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9 to 5
It's grim
I'm 'up North', enjoying the colourful local charm: Cabby "so what team you support?" Me "........" Cabby ".......! They're shite!" The prospect of a tip not looking too promising at this point Cabby "my Probabtion Officer supported '.......', he got stabbed" Me "and you follow?" Cabby "United!" Me "you're a long way from Guildford then aren't you?" and, sadly, this stimulating badinage is curtailed by our arrival at the destination. And perhaps it is a good thing. For, if one were to choose the location of one's passing, it wouldn't be in the back of a Fiat Multipla, accompanied by the aroma of pie and stale vomit. And the destination is the offices of our supplier. And it's downhill form here. Their Sales Director is a fuckwit. His sole purpose seems to be to visit fuckwittery on all in the vicinity. He spends the morning coffee break treating us to his views on the postal strike, which do involve 'sending in the army'. He's pre Big Bang, which is rare to see these days. He's from an age where sole criteria for getting a contract was that you'd buggered a chaps brother at boarding school. And I didn't, and I don't believe my MD did either - so he's misjudging his audience. And his team are little better. The lead salesman mumbles through his presentation, fixated on his shoes. The techie is so nervous, he completely dries; and he's stood their gulping like a landed fish, whilst the Sales Director looks blithely on. Eventually we have to step in and get him a glass of water, or we'd still be there. Mercifully we break for lunch. Note 'break for lunch', not 'lunch arrives' - because it doesn't. We're planning to pay these guys tens of millions for the IT contract. Not being able to get a plate of sandwiches to the right room, at the right time, doesn't inspire confidence. And do they fill these awkward moments keeping us entertained with a little small talk? No, they do not, they take the opportunity to update their Blackberries. They're sitting there round the table, checking their emails, while we're starring at the walls. At this point, my boss just gets up and walks - which I've got to give him credit for. I stay, dragging one of them away from some vitally important youtube clip in his inbox; and get a tour. Which actually pisses me off more. 'cause they're crap - operationally. They've got a similar set-up to ours, and they're rubbish at it. Despite the fact that, I assume, they actually give a fuck, and are working hard it - I'm running an operation which is at least twice as efficient. And that pisses me off; not because they're crap, but because I'm not - and I'm not getting the love for it.
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Be careful what you wish for pt 2
I am up North. For quite the most pointless meeting. There's a dozen of us round the table (at quite a substantial combined hourly rate) watching a PowerPoint presentation on some proposed project milestones. And it's animated......it's got dissolves and flashing boxes and everything. And our annoyance at being dragged up to something which could have been handled by an email is dissolving (without the flashing boxes) into squirming embarrassment at the catastrophic tweeness of it all. However, long train journeys are ideal for thinking - about how I can extract myself from the current problem Option 1 is bluster - to declare my outrage at Finance for providing me with the wrong numbers for the last few months. But that won't fly - I imagine myself on the other side of the argument, eviscerating my feeble protest - I signed off on the plan; and if I'd been paying attention I should have seen the figures were wrong. So, option 2 - gloss over the error, but get the numbers reforecast for H2. And it's not a bad plan, I've got some plausible reasons for why there should be a reduction. But, frankly it's beneath me. I'll take a few points off just to win the argument, but the rest of it, I'm inclined to swallow. I may come to my senses tomorrow. But at the moment, I seriously considering.....actually doing some work
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Be careful what you wish for
I have been experiencing more than a little ennui of late. Feeling like the end of a job, rather than effectively the beginning. Not really applying myself, and taking a somewhat cavalier attitude to the work. And, let's be honest, being more than a little smug - I've rejected all criticism of my methods, on the basis that I'm achieving plan, so people can, quite frankly, take a hike. But, all in all, it has been a little dull. So, the fates delivered quite the opportunity this week, when Finance informed me that the plan I have been diligently working to all year, is actually wrong. Wrong by a factor of about 20%. In every Board meeting I've been paining a rosy picture of steady as she goes, when in reality there's a chasm opening up beneath me. The evil genius of it is, that had I known things were on the slide I would have created an elaborate tale of excuses and mitigators. Excuses which now, will have little credibility. I am quite screwed, but I cannot help but be amused by it - it's true karmic reckoning
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Mostly, I have been watching
The ABN Amro takeover battle The tail end of 06 saw Barclays being eyed up by BBVA and Bank of America. The writing was clearly on the wall for Chief Exec John Varley - merge or die. Which is where the motivation for the £45bn bid for ABN Amro comes from. A successful tie-up would creates the world's 5th biggest bank. An £85bn company, which should be big enough to survive. The deal was to be funded by Barclays shares, and was contingent on Amro offloading their subsidiary LaSalle to Bank of America for $20bn. And things were looking good last month, with Rijkman Groenink, Amro's Chief Exec opening the books, and putting out the welcome mat. Until, RBS/Santander/Fortis crashed the party with a counter offer. A deal presumably driven by Fred Goodwin of RBS, who needs to protect their UK position against competition from a substantially enlarged Barclays. Going head to head with any one of the 3 is no small undertaking, they're serious players. But the trio working together creates big problems for Barclays. And for Amro. The RBS/Santander/Fortis offer is 70% cash, and higher than the Barclays bid. And getting more attractive by the day, as Barclays shares begin to slip. But, it's dependent on LaSalle being part of the package. ABN Amro shareholders made their position very clear at the AGM. They want the cash, and RBS. To this end, they've successfully halted the sale of LaSalle to Bank of America. But, Bank of America have a contract, so they're going to sue Amro if the sale doesn't go ahead. And, Barclays are going to sue Amro if the merger doesn't go through. Some people like sports, for me, it's the theatre of big corporate deals. This one's the best for a long time. We've had far too many insipid arranged marriages lately. The stakes are just so much higher here. If Barclays fail, they're dead meat; Bank of America will turn on them. Groenink is probably done for whichever way it goes, no-one gets between shareholders and their money. RBS will likely win the day. And, for about 20,000 staff, it's going to be an unhappy Christmas this year....
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just business
encountered a strange feeling today - the warm glow of effort, well rewarded. Could this be what they call 'job satisfaction', it's all very curious.... My pitch went well. It was, uncharacteristically, low on spin, and heavy on pith. There were facts, evidence, and even some measure of truth. Every once in a while, just for the novelty if nothing else, a reasoned argument is not a bad approach. Particularly when you're telling people what they really don't want to hear. And I win. After six months of deeply irrational, and purely emotional objections, I get what I want: progress, with minimal risk, and a substantial fall-back position. Now a victory like this doesn't come without cost, of course. Every silver lining has it's cloud. Into each life, a little rain must fall. Not my life, obviously, other people's........ Specifically, one of my colleagues, who is going to experience the rather unpleasant prospect of giving me 25% of his turnover, but keeping all of his annual target. To be fair he took the news surprisingly well - there just so gosh darn nice here.
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You can't handle the truth
It has, been a tiring day. Barring the couple of hours I spent at lunch, and a hour in the bar, I've been nose to the grindstone from 9, right through until past 6. An uncommon, and unwelcome level of effort. The reason for my pain? My boss's breezy "let's move the meeting forward. It's no problem is it? You said you'd already done the paper" Well, the paper has somewhat of a duality. It very much exists, in the mind of my boss, because I've said I've done it - and that existence has a reality. Yet it doesn't have a tangible reality, at this time. It quite clearly has potential for existence, even though that existence cannot be established in the now. But, since I'm guessing he's not big on Schrödinger, I go with a "yeah, no problem" So that was me this morning, a blank sheet of paper, and a pit of despair. The problem with the paper goes far beyond mere idleness. It's an existential malaise. It requires me to propose 'doing' something, when nothing is required. When the status quo will easily deliver us plan, to go in there and improve things. And to take a business risk to do it ((shudders)).
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Moron building
"Is this bra working for me?" It's not even 6 o'clock, I'm only on my second G&T, and already I've got a face full of cleavage. Courtesy of one of our junior accountants. I can't deny that her cups runneth over; but there's a time and a place for that sort of thing. Evidently Stuff-u-Like's annual conference is the time, and the place. I'm really not in the mood, I've had a troubling afternoon. I've been outdoors, in the countryside ((shudders)). Enduring a teambuilding session. Facilitated by khaki-clad morons who really never got over scout camp. "RIGHT! ARE YOU UP FOR THE CHALLENGE!" - 'oh do fuck off you tiresome little TA wannabee' The fickle hand of fate puts me in the MD's team, so all hope of deserting, and spending the afternoon in the bar are dashed, and I spend the next few hours crossing imaginary rivers with planks of wood - 'why don't we just imagine we've crossed the river.....' All soundtracked by the "go team!" ethusings of these outdoor pursuits nutters. I mean, honestly, pursing the outdoors!?!? Surely the point of civilisation is to repel the outdoors.
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