Friday, October 01, 2004
Workplace Shenanigans And An Unexpected Night Out
This morning I received an e-mail from the Managing Director of our IS Department: the main man, the one who's picture sits proudly atop the tree of disillusionment. He has asked me to attend a Coffee Morning in the director's suite of the main Head Office building along with the Company Secretary. The reason for this, he explains, is "to enable him to meet staff from across the Division and for staff within the Division to meet each other and discuss topical issues in an informal environment."
So from about 8 or 9000 other members of IS staff, and by playing the percentages, they could not have picked someone with less enthusiasm and more cynicism than myself. I was one of about 20 that was invited, which is what...450 to 1 or someting!?!
I don't know how this has happened or indeed why, but I can only compare the magnitude of this request as perhaps akin to George Bush being asked to speak at a John Kerry convention - or Margaret Thatcher being asked to address the annual Sinn Fein get together - or David Beckham being asked to the News of the World's Christmas party. I am left wondering if someone put my name forward in order that they can start a more intense brain-washing course and lure me back into their fold. I must resist.
After work I met up with my old pal Dave Graham, one of the old school who I used to drink with regularly on a Friday night along with a few others. With the advent of marriages and children, sadly these events are now not as common as they once were. So we met up for a sneaky pint at 4pm in Clark's Bar.
Dave has revealed a hidden desire to write, and has started asking questions - the same ones I asked myself five years ago. I hope he is serious firstly because it will be great to have another writer at close hand to talk to, and second because some of the ideas he has are superb and can definitley be worked on. He started a Blog this week, check it out at Worries Of A Wandering Mind
Anyway, by 1.30am that sneaky pint in Clark's had moved onto Hamilton's in Stockbridge for a plate of Suasage and Mash (why?) and then St. Stephen's Bar, a student haunt as it turned out, and we got about whipping their asses at Killer Pool. We were eventually asked to leave when the barmaid, who objected to us gambling in the first place, had decided enough was enough.
It was an unexpected night out, but one of the best I've had in a long time. It was just like the old days. Unfortunately for me, I have to do it all again tomorrow when I go to a friends 30th birthday bash in Edinburgh centre....
So from about 8 or 9000 other members of IS staff, and by playing the percentages, they could not have picked someone with less enthusiasm and more cynicism than myself. I was one of about 20 that was invited, which is what...450 to 1 or someting!?!
I don't know how this has happened or indeed why, but I can only compare the magnitude of this request as perhaps akin to George Bush being asked to speak at a John Kerry convention - or Margaret Thatcher being asked to address the annual Sinn Fein get together - or David Beckham being asked to the News of the World's Christmas party. I am left wondering if someone put my name forward in order that they can start a more intense brain-washing course and lure me back into their fold. I must resist.
After work I met up with my old pal Dave Graham, one of the old school who I used to drink with regularly on a Friday night along with a few others. With the advent of marriages and children, sadly these events are now not as common as they once were. So we met up for a sneaky pint at 4pm in Clark's Bar.
Dave has revealed a hidden desire to write, and has started asking questions - the same ones I asked myself five years ago. I hope he is serious firstly because it will be great to have another writer at close hand to talk to, and second because some of the ideas he has are superb and can definitley be worked on. He started a Blog this week, check it out at Worries Of A Wandering Mind
Anyway, by 1.30am that sneaky pint in Clark's had moved onto Hamilton's in Stockbridge for a plate of Suasage and Mash (why?) and then St. Stephen's Bar, a student haunt as it turned out, and we got about whipping their asses at Killer Pool. We were eventually asked to leave when the barmaid, who objected to us gambling in the first place, had decided enough was enough.
It was an unexpected night out, but one of the best I've had in a long time. It was just like the old days. Unfortunately for me, I have to do it all again tomorrow when I go to a friends 30th birthday bash in Edinburgh centre....
Colin 1:39 pm