It’s a fact of life that when you require urgent information for a customer quote, every bugger you need to contact is at lunch. What’s this fascination people have with their one hour lunch break? The damned thing is inviolate! The attitude is: ‘Bugger the customer, I have to have my organic goat’s cheese (RCPCA monitored and Welfare Standard), roquet and lo-cal Paul Newman vinaigrette dressing on granary - and no-one is going to stop me, even if they pay my salary.’ Not being considered adult, we sales people have to used the Admin Dept. as intermediaries when contacting suppliers, so the problem is compounded by the fact that our suppliers are based on the continent, so if you need some info it dries up at 11am (when the continentals have their beer and sausages) and doesn’t start again till 1pm (when our lot come back from Tesco).
I’m still reeling from the fact that I’ve been told that my sales team has to increase sales by 10% this year. This is despite the obvious fact (which seems to have escaped the directors’ notice) that we’re part of the manufacturing sector and we’re in the largest recession since Vice Admiral Bertram Ramsay organised the retreat from Dunkirk. I wouldn’t like to be in their shoes at the end of the year when they’ve informed the shareholders that we are targeting 2008 revenues +10% and end up bringing in 2008 revenues – 25%. These people need a truth serum and a heavy dose of reality. I guess the words ‘profit warning’ aren’t in their lexicon. Makes you wonder how they got to the top.
Had a brilliant idea while listening to Last Words on Radio 4 – a programme that celebrates the recently dead and reasonably renowned. I learned that Wally Stott, a renowned musical arranger, had a sex change and became Angela Moreley, a renowned musical arranger, and died aged 84. Now women tend to live 10-20% longer than men, so how about men, once they’ve passed the age of reproduction, undergoing a sex change? Not only will men (or women, as they will then be) live longer, but they’ll get along better with their wives as they can share the housework, exchange clothes and swap make-up tips.
Another Devon/Cornwall resident has been found guilty of attempting to blow up innocent people. The southwest seems to be a Mecca (if you’ll pardon the expression) for fundamentalist nutters of every hue.
Hay and I were watching a programme about how a bunch of villagers in Bengal were training feral dogs to protect them from tiger attacks. Hay mentioned how impressive it was that the dogs had been trained to such a high standard. I responded that dogs were man’s best friend and they were the first thing we domesticated after women.
Here are some real-man product adverts that a friend in Birkenhead sent me - they're quite amusing: