Castigators after the Remnants of Squalor,
The keynote speech was yesterday, I don’t fear giving presentations. My limited football skills are mostly pointing and shouting. A combination of these with indifference to the audience is my usual style. Unfortunately, yesterday, I wasn’t indifferent enough; it had been so long since my last presentation (6 months) and I really believed that what I was saying was important. I was quite anxious about the whole affair until I was reminded of what I was up against.
A simple incident with one of the more unruly project contributors and the motorised blinds calmed me down. The MC was chatting to the project leader, and I stood by waiting patiently to ask the MC to load my presentation onto the computer system. The boisterous one charges in with the loudest of entrances, “Ah, this room is great, but a bit of daylight would make it perfect.” He must change every room that he enters to his specification, he makes it his stage. He was told that there were settings for the blinds to go up or down, he wanted them open halfway. The MC pressed UP, the blinds started moving, and our performer shouted, “Stop”. The MC tried to do something. The blinds continued to the top. The MC pressed DOWN, “Stop”, came the bumptious call when they reached midway, the blinds continued despite hammering of the key pad. Five minutes passed where the polite and obedient MC tried to please the haughty one, the blinds whirred, they roared, they groaned, they finished halfway up the window but that was probably where the motor konked out.
After this, I was at ease. My presentation passed without incident but I was now drained. Waiting for dinner in the evening was a chore and eating so late was painful. I dreamt through the meal and on the road home.
The final session of the project meeting was this morning. I want to be respectful but I am disheartened by the scepticism of some of the more senior collaborators to the existence of what I see as the real issues. As always, I end up believing the only way ahead is off at a tangent in a breakaway movement. I found a whole morning hard to suffer and it was a relief to head to the swimming pool.
I was delighted to hear on my way to the car, a lad singing The Poorest of Company, hit song from the Drever, McCusker and Woomble album, whilst walking through the car park. I didn’t imagine it, it really happened. It wasn’t even Kris Drever.
A simple incident with one of the more unruly project contributors and the motorised blinds calmed me down. The MC was chatting to the project leader, and I stood by waiting patiently to ask the MC to load my presentation onto the computer system. The boisterous one charges in with the loudest of entrances, “Ah, this room is great, but a bit of daylight would make it perfect.” He must change every room that he enters to his specification, he makes it his stage. He was told that there were settings for the blinds to go up or down, he wanted them open halfway. The MC pressed UP, the blinds started moving, and our performer shouted, “Stop”. The MC tried to do something. The blinds continued to the top. The MC pressed DOWN, “Stop”, came the bumptious call when they reached midway, the blinds continued despite hammering of the key pad. Five minutes passed where the polite and obedient MC tried to please the haughty one, the blinds whirred, they roared, they groaned, they finished halfway up the window but that was probably where the motor konked out.
After this, I was at ease. My presentation passed without incident but I was now drained. Waiting for dinner in the evening was a chore and eating so late was painful. I dreamt through the meal and on the road home.
The final session of the project meeting was this morning. I want to be respectful but I am disheartened by the scepticism of some of the more senior collaborators to the existence of what I see as the real issues. As always, I end up believing the only way ahead is off at a tangent in a breakaway movement. I found a whole morning hard to suffer and it was a relief to head to the swimming pool.
I was delighted to hear on my way to the car, a lad singing The Poorest of Company, hit song from the Drever, McCusker and Woomble album, whilst walking through the car park. I didn’t imagine it, it really happened. It wasn’t even Kris Drever.
posted by Leif at 8:57 PM
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