Is This The Life

It started one Thursday. It was lunchtime. Aldgate. A work colleague gorging on sushi was highlighting his relief that both his children were appearing in the same nativity play at school. It meant that he only need to sit through one school performance rather than two. I’ve never had kids, so I have never had to ride the emotional gauntlet of a school performance for a loved one. I’m sure it has its rewards. I have no doubt. Pride. Passion. The desire to show support for offspring whether they or the play is good, bad or indifferent. It’s a rites of passage thing. But. I think it is safe to say, they must be pretty painful to sit through. The missed lines. The lack of emotion in delivery. The embarrassment and the crying. Regardless, I do recall sitting through other school class performances twice a year. Generally, my memories involve having a numb or – worse – sore arse from sitting cross legged on polished, parquet flooring for what seemed like days. I do not have an...

It must be mid-morning. I’m sitting at a large desk with six or seven others in a meeting room. Somewhere outside Rugby. We’ve been fed tea. We have enjoyed biscuits. A Health and Safety Manager has just explained that a retail unit that we, collectively, manage has an issue where homeless and/or drug addicts defecating in the alley behind the store. The staff have complained that when they take deliveries into the store, they often have to carry boxes and heavy loads while watching their footing to avoid human turds. I knew what was going to be discussed in the meeting beforehand. I had responded to a couple of emails. I had already offered a couple of solutions and ways to support or resolve the issue. Regardless, I have been summoned to attend a meeting to offer the same solutions and the same ideas. But this time, out loud. I had sympathised with the staff member’s plight before the meeting and I am sympathising with their plight now. But the meeting has turned a littl...