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9 to 5
Down with The Kids
I've been dissed by The Kids at work for buying the Franz Ferdinand album. It seems they are now 'so five minutes ago'. Despite my protestations that I've been namechecking them since I saw their gig last August, I know in my heart that The Kids are correct. Franz are in fact The Darkness of the art-school set.
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Including the demo single and the best part of the first two EPs on the first album does suggest their creative juices are not exactly flowing. And that's £13 for half the tracks I've already paid for.
The concept of value for money seems to be something the record industry has difficulty with. Up to now we've been warned about the evil downloaders, who are destroying artists livelihoods (and doubtless funding terrorism and child pornography in the process). Now it seems there's an even greater threat to these poor beleaguered multi-billion dollar entertainment conglomerates - The Supermarkets.
According to The Independent - 'A British music retailer warned last night that the specialist record store was under threat. Simon Dornan, spokesman for Virgin Mega-stores, said he believed that discount pricing of CDs by supermarkets posed an even greater threat to record shops than downloading.'
Now as if describing a Virgin Megastore as a "specialist record store" wasn't laughable enough he goes on to say "The scenario [for record shops] is far more dangerous than anything to do with downloading,". If supermarkets came to dominate music retail, British music would become less exciting. Labels will be less inclined to invest in a wider roster and we will have far blander music on offer. I don't suppose I will find Franz Ferdinand in Asda or Sainsbury's this week."
Franz Ferdinand is of course on offer in your local Sainsbury's at the considerably cheaper price of £9.99.
So it seems that the problem is not that we aren't buying music, it's just that we aren't buying it at the hugely inflated prices they want to charge for it. As evidenced by the BPI's action against the small, and rather excellent, internet retailer CDWOW, who sell chart CDs at £8.99.
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It has not, I have to say, been a good week. It started badly with yet another teleconference. The reception on the speakerphone was terrible, I could hardly hear anyone. The result of which was what I thought was me agreeing to attend the next meeting turned out in fact to be me heading up the whole project……….fficeffice" />
Wednesday I was pitching the 2004 plan to my director and assorted other ‘Heads of’. So I’m in full flow – ‘championing this……initiating that……launching whatever’ not really giving the whole process much thought, just passing a few hours painting a pretty picture. Now since I still don’t know many people, I hadn’t really taken any notice of the quiet girl in the corner who seemed to be making a lot of notes.
Not until I got the minutes from the meeting today, with all my throwaway lines and schemes neatly catalogued, all with a corresponding due date………bollox!
The only scintilla of a silver lining in this very large cloud is the fact that it is remarkably easy to get things done at BigCo. What they lack (and oh do they lack) in competence, they more than make up for in gosh darn niceness.
One of my first deliverables was to walk a project through the Commissioning Steering Committee. Now this process had been described, in hushed tones, by colleagues as being a cross between a Pop Idol audition and the Spanish Inquisition.
Now to be fair they did have a ten to one advantage in the meeting, but when they begin their questioning with “might I just challenge you on that point” you know it’s not going to be too tricky. The equivalent enquiry at FUKD plc would have been along the lines of – “you fucking want some?”
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I spent Friday in one of London’s better hotels with 700 of my new colleagues at BigCo's divisional conference. Or, former colleagues, after I was introduced to the conference by the MD as "the man who will turn this division around and deliver 2004" - not the sort of label to endear me to new co-workers, or for that matter, enable me to continue the 35 hour week regimen I pride myself on...... fficeffice" />
Anyway, with that little shock over, it was on to the standard 'how do we achieve 2004' spiel. Or, in BigCo's case - 'How do we achieve 2004, as contextualised by reference to the film Sound of Music'.
This (and I'm not making it up), was a full production number, with theme music and appropriate excerpts from the film on the video screen.
We, it seems are Maria. Our customers are the von Trapp children. Our old ways of working are Captain von Trapp. The competition are the Germans. We have a new list of 'favourite things' (which are more along the lines of 'achieving customer delight' rather than 'raindrops on roses'). Our objective for 2004 is, of course, to climb that mountain.
And, as the rousing strains of 'Climb Every Mountain' filled the speakers, I remained in a slack-jawed minority as grown men and women applauded like Duracell bunnies.
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Sick Boy
Last week was not in the least bit pleasant. Since I spent most of it wracked with terrible food poisoning. The result of going for a meal with my old boss from FUKD plc. His conversation alone was emetic enough, without the addition of bad seafood, as he told me how well he and Mr Motivator were getting on at the moment. This was a far cry from the contract-killing proposal we’d mooted a few months ago.
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So as a result of this, on Monday night, instead of dying quietly in bed, I was flying to Glasgow –with more drugs stuffed inside me than the average Jamaican mule (for which I had to visit three separate chemists to obtain! As I pointed out to the sallow shop-girl, its come to a sorry state of affairs when I can more easily buy crack cocaine than over medicate myself with over-the-counter pharmaceuticals).
Tuesday’s meeting was somewhat of a blur of the customary coma inducing boredom, interspaced with waves of nausea.
They wouldn’t even let me die in peace; they kept drawing me in to the debates – “what’s your thoughts on this Dave?”. It’s times like this where honesty is not the best policy – “look, I’m trying to cope with Pepto-Bismol induced psychosis, do you want me to stab you to death with the complimentary hotel pen? Do you!?!?” – and go instead for a little bullshit “right-size the success threshold…….descope extraneous process flows….narrow in on the big wins……” Generally talk for a sufficient length of time so that people have forgotten the original question, and therefore can’t disagree as to whether you’ve answered it or not.
Eventually they left me alone to stare out of the window. But even that offered little solace as we’re directly opposite the considerably better hotel I used to stay at with FUKD plc. Oh for my old corner suite and a comely chambermaid to mop my brow.
It’s a truism with FUKD plc and other companies in the same market sector – whilst the wages of sin are quite possible death, it does come with a very agreeable expense account.
After achieving nothing in Glasgow it’s just another short flight to Belfast for the next session (a flight made somewhat more bearable by the commendably laissez-faire attitudes of the Sauchiehall St pharmacists). The hotel too is a great improvement. The Belfast Europa has always managed to maintain a pleasingly contemporary décor in sharp contrast to the faded chic of comparable hotels. Although, to be fair to other chains, this is, in no small part, due to its distinction as being the most bombed hotel in Europe.
By Wednesday morning things are improving slightly, as the infection moves down my digestive tract (never has chronic diarrhoea been so welcome); and I am able to make a small contribution to the meeting (whilst maintaining a vice-like grip on my sphincter). Unfortunately this contribution includes volunteering for an action point! My illness is obviously more serious than I thought, I’m becoming delirious.
Now obviously there have been times during my career, and I’m not too proud to admit this, where I have received action points. But to volunteer for one…….
No matter how small, no matter how trivial it sounds, it’s always better to just say no. You don’t have to be rude, just a firm decline - “I’m sorry, I appreciate this may put you in a difficult position, and whilst I’m always the first to support a colleague, I’m afraid my current workload would make it impossible for me to step in as relief masseuse for the Australian woman’s beach volleyball team, on their tour of the Caribbean.”
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Back to the grindstone
Although I was one of the unlucky few in on Friday. Not that it was too painful - no traffic on the roads, so the journey took half the time. Parked right in front of the office (the high point of the day, it was all downhill from there). The spaces outside the front are normally reserved for those mad
fools in at 8am - some of whom have still got their cars there at 5pm when I leave (personally speaking if my time management was that bad I wouldn't want to advertise the fact).
No today was effectively the first day. Skipping into the office with a spring in my step, ready to start the day. Or more accurately - where the hell am I going to park myself since I STILL HAVEN'T GOT A DESK OR COMPUTER!!!!!!!!
I know it's only been four weeks, but I'm starting to get a little hacked off. If I wanted rank incompetence I could have stayed at FUKD PLC.
So I'm wandering around the office looking for anyone who's off sick - "ooh, he's ill is he, great.........could be all week, excellent". I hover around people's desks, looking for signs of malaise. I'm hoping to find someone with something life threatening so I can settle down for a week or so. I though I was in luck this week as one of the guys was off to hospital, the operation got cancelled and he's back at work.
My role as the Angel of Death is of course endearing me to my workmates.
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post party blues
I'm sitting in an internet cafe, sobering up, after last night's party with my old contractors at FUKD plc.
Since I'd stayed in town over the weekend, there seemed little point driving down South to BigCo, for a days work, so I arranged a store visit in town. Wonderful things store visits, great opportunity to swan round the country glad handing the troops (or getting slagged off for Head Office innaction). Since I'm still a new boy, it's an easy ride.
When you're 'showing the flag' it pays to dress for the occasion, so I'm wearing the cashmere suit and Aquascutum overcoat. This generally improves your chances of receiving forelock tugging rather than complaints.
The outfit plays well in the store, less well in the checkout queue at Primark. Primark! You ask. Well....Being creative souls, my contractors felt it would be fun if we exchanged gifts of tacky things to wear, to get the party started.
So there I am, all sartorial elegance, in the (very, very long) queue at Primark buying nylon leopardskin underwear in a size 18. I fear I may never be able to show my face in there again (not too much of a hardship admittedly), after the sneering looks from the other shoppers. Looks which basically said "you cheap bastard, is that all you're getting your mistress for Christmas"
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