This morning, a few minutes ahead of time, I turned up for the 9am meeting I mentioned yesterday - a meeting that was scheduled 13 weeks ago.The department is an open plan design, and standing at the reception desk I could clearly see and hear a meeting in progress. Every staff member was sitting around a table, leaving their desks and the reception desk, unattended.
Meetings over-run and I don't have difficulty accepting such situations. So, I sat down and waited. For 20 bloody minutes.
As I waited, I also listened.
"I have a cassette player I can bring. It has his last song at the end of the tape, we can use that". I was going to mention something about copyright, but I thought sod it and continued to eaves-drop.
"Where can we get a smoke machine? It would be great if we could have a Viking ship coming out of the smoke, like a sort of sea mist".
Obviously this was some new government strategy to help small business.
"Dunno. I will have a look in Yellow Pages."
Another staff member informed everyone, including me, that at lunchtime she was going out to see if she can buy a Viking hat. Where the hell she expected to get one was beyond my understanding, but a lot of things about this department are beyond my understanding. At least she was going to go in her own time which is a bit of a novelty in this workers paradise called Australia.
After 20 minutes listening to the meeting - a meeting held to discuss plans for their bloody Christmas party, I had enough.
I stood at the reception desk and explained that although I was sorry for interrupting matters of such great importance, that unlike them, I do not automatically get my clients - I have to fight tooth and nail for each one - and while they are talking about Viking ships and helmets, they are preventing me from doing so.
Wonder Boy, (described yesterday), stands up, sheepishly shakes my hand and apologises. Then the meeting begins.
He spent so much time talking about visualising, conceptualising, embracing, enhancing, mutually-cooperating, empowering and strategically supporting, that there was no time left for him to do any of them.
He probably has a shrine at home with a picture of Steven Covey and Anthony Robbins, surrounded by candles and Herald Angels. He's the sort who rushes out to buy any book that has the word "secret" or "success" in the title and assumes that by reading the introduction he will automatically become the new Kerry Packer.
For some reason I felt an Irresistible urge to tell him that books are all fine and dandy, then start singing, "You got to get a little dirt on your hands boy, you got to get a little dirt on your hands".
Of course if you would have told me 25 years ago I would one day be thinking such thoughts, I would have called you an old fuddy duddy and laughed.
One thing I have learned over the years is that business is like sex education. Theory and books are all very well, but there are things you have to figure out for yourself - often the hard way. When you're behind the back of a bicycle shed on a cold windy night, there aint no gurus around to tell you seven secrets to a successful outcome!
To his credit, he did try to be helpful. He offered me the services of a reverse marketer. I already knew this department has three speeds; slow, dead slow and stop, so I guess adding reverse makes sense.
Enter Cassie. Dressed like a refugee from Woodstock, she "floats" over to us after being summoned by Wonder Boy. I stand up to greet her, she smiles and says, "Hi Darl".
"Darl" is gaining popularity as the new way for females to greet male clients or customers. I have been called that in banks, insurance companies and medical facilities. Of course if I were to call the same staff, "Dear" "Luv" or even "Darl", I would have every loony, left wing, tight-assed feminist after my knackers with a butchers knife.
She sits down and I explain to her how my business operates. Online mostly and primarily overseas clients. Quite simple really.
"How do you do that? everyone's on different times".
Have to admit, she cottons on quickly.
"Yes, but that isn't a problem as everything is arranged to fit in with the client".
"You must work odd hours".
"Yes".
"I wouldn't fancy that."
A little voice inside me called out, "Don't go there Mike", so I remained quiet.
"But at least being your own boss you can take leave when you want".
I told the little voice to bugger off.
"I don't get paid leave, rostered days off, maternity leave, paternity leave, grief leave, sick leave, stress leave, study leave, flexi-leave, leave in lieu. I take it when and if I can". I was going to add that the only leave I actually get to take is taking leave of my senses.
Then she was informed there was a phone call for her - her mum. Did I mind I mind if she took the call? I'm a nice sort of guy so I smiled and nodded.
"Yes mum. Yes. No mum. OK. mum. No, not really mum."
Oh good, I have a real kick-butt marketer to help me.
"Yes, O.K. I got that mum. Yeah, that's ok with me mum. OK, no, I will be home the same time."
At least I have an avenue of redress if she doesn't get results - I'll tell her mum on her. Needless to say, after talking to her and realising she hasn't got the foggiest idea of how I operate, I declined the offer of her services.
Then I had to catch the bus home - but I wont even begin to tell you that fine example of the great Australian shirk-force.
Wherever you may be - be safe!
