A Conference Call in Real Life

I love this!  Full marks to all involved...

A conference call playing out in a boardroom.  Clever stuff.

Watch Your Ps and Qs

I judge people harshly who casually abuse the English language.  Within a language containing over one million words there is always room for error - I'm not infallible myself and am always open to correction - but you can tell the difference between a genuine typo and a blatant disregard for syntax and punctuation.

On The Guardian website today it says many top schools receive applications for teaching posts which include spelling mistakes and grammar anomalies.  The article even points out that some schools have difficulty filling senior teaching positions due to poorly-presented CVs.  

Why have people become less particular about their standard of written communication?  Has the speed of online contact and text speak affected our ability to string a sentence together?  As we become more multicultural, are our languages fusing together and losing their identities?  Do we place too much importance on perfectly presented prose?

Mark Twain said   “Anyone who can only think of one way to spell a word obviously lacks imagination.”

I say   “Anyone who can only think of one way to spell a word obviously had a good education.”

I don't like the dumbing-down of the English language.  Although not the most widely-spoken, it is the language which rules the world.  Our rich history of revered writers is in danger of becoming extinct thanks to a generation of Hip Hop slangmeisters and Essex retards.

Even the most successful literary series (and I use the term loosely) of the last couple of years had 50 shades of 'must try harder' about it.  Still at least it got the chavs reading.

I wonder if I care too much.  Am I old-fashioned in my expectation of fully-formed sentences?  After all, language does evolve.

It's also been proven that everybody can read the following:

"Aoccdrnig to rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoetnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer are in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a toatl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe."

So, what's the point?  Why go to all that trouble of educating yourself and double-checking your work if most people can read it with a few mistakes anyway?  

I'll tell you why.  It's because it's simply not acceptable in the world of business to send an email like it's come from the barrow boy down Portobello Road.  People like me will automatically judge you. I can hardly stand it if someone abbreviates words in a tweet, let alone in a covering letter.  It tells me you have a poor level of communication.  Even if English is not your first language, if you want a job where English is the primary method of communication, you'd better make sure you are literate.  If somebody has to interpret what you've just told them, you have failed.  People want to do business with people they understand.  Communication should be clear and concise, if you can't manage that then you need a job stacking the shelves in B&Q where you won't be bastardising the Queen's lingo, innit tho?

TTFN

How Do You Get Rid Of The House Guest From Hell?

Aaaaarrrggghhhh!!!!

This weekend, my partner’s childhood friend came to stay.  After my hard week at work, I was looking forward to a nice leisurely time with good food and wine.  It’s always nice to meet Julian’s friends, I adore everyone I have met through him so far.  One of the reasons I fell for him was his social circle.  If lots of lovely people gravitate towards someone, it’s a good sign of their character.  Which makes it even harder to believe that this weekend’s guest, Marilyn, is one of the most reprehensible people I have ever met.

It started off innocently enough when she pulled up in her car and came in proffering a bottle of red wine.  She said the drive was hellish and had located the corkscrew before she had even taken her coat off.  I went upstairs to take a shower and left Julian and Marilyn to catch up.  When I came back down 30 minutes later, Marilyn was already slurring.  Julian looked at me and raised his eyebrows but it’s not the first time we’ve had to endure a tipsy friend - we like a drink ourselves.  

We got to the restaurant for our 8pm booking and when the sommelier came over, Julian chose a nice bottle and Marilyn jumped in and ordered a Cosmopolitan.  No problems there, it’s Saturday night, even if she was racing ahead.  Anyway…

We ate our starters and listened to Marilyn - neither of us could get a word in edgeways.  Her mouth chattered away with a sprinkling of expletives which weren’t really befitting our environment but me and Julian exchanged another grin and bore it.  

Our main course came at which point Marilyn started to get ranty about women in the workplace.  I didn’t disagree with anything she was saying but she started to get very argumentative.  Twisting things.  Then she said that it was impossible for me to truly understand feminism from my white male privilege so I dared suggest that feminism wasn’t all about white middle class women.  My mistake, I gave a red rag to a bull with PMT (I’m aware that’s sexist - I’m being ironic) and she ran with it...  

She was demanding to know my knowledge on female genital mutilation - hers didn’t amount to much more.  She started to raise her voice in an accusatory tone drawing glances from our fellow diners.  At this point, even though I didn't feel I was the one who should be apologising, I backed down.  I tried to pull the evening back on course but she accused me of trying to control the conversation.  Her word ratio to mine 500:1.  Poor Julian didn’t know what to do.  His lovely old schoolfriend and his partner just had a barney and the nice meal turned into a very awkward silence.  We were less than halfway through our main - cringe.

We paid the bill (she actually didn’t attempt to pay so I swallowed it up - is that part of my white male privilege?) and we made a silent journey back to ours.  She was clearly too drunk to drive herself home so I decided the best thing I could do, as I seemed to antagonise her so much, was remove myself from the situation.  I left them chatting and had an early night.  Julian came to bed 2 hours later saying she was still up and drinking whiskey.  Come midnight she was making weird noises.  At 1am, she decided to put music on.  At 2am, it sounded like she was on the phone to someone or just shouting.  Julian said he would go out and tell her to go to bed but I told him not to, she was clearly spoiling for a fight.  At 3am, she finally passed out.

Reflecting in the morning, there was no two ways about it.  She had behaved abysmally.  She was beyond offensive, personally attacked me and put Julian in an awkward position.  We had planned for her to stay tonight too but now we both want shot of her.  We don’t want her here, especially as it may involve drinking again.  Anyway, this is where it gets worse…

Julian got a call from work, he had to go in to service a short European flight and would be home by supper.  Good.  This solves our predicament.  Marilyn was still in bed as Julian left.  I wanted to get rid of her quickly so made a fresh pot of coffee and turned on the radio LOUD.  She eventually surfaced with no apology, helped herself to coffee and dumped herself on the sofa.  She then told me to turn the radio off as she wanted to watch the TV.  I said No.  She then started on me saying she found me objectional last night and couldn’t believe I was still this rude this morning.  I snapped, I said she had to leave, she said she wasn’t going anywhere as she wanted to see Julian.  I said that Julian didn’t want to see her and she said ‘Tough’.  We are now at a stand off.  I have asked her again to leave and she says no.  This is a really weird situation.  This is my house and there has been an irredeemable reprobate on the sofa watching TV for the last 3 hours and I am in my office typing this.  What do I do?  Seriously.

I reckon I have 2 options:

- Pick her up and manhandle her out - which I’m sure would be a criminal offence with the police on her side.

- Call the police on her - which seems like a total waste of their time as no real crime is being committed.

What do I do?  HELP ME!

Madonna: Celebrity or Philanthropist?

Madonna’s human rights initiative Art for Freedom has been established 'to fuel free speech and protest persecution around the world.'  Artists are invited to submit work based on their ideas of freedom and revolution and each month a guest curator comes aboard to help Madonna deliberate over the submissions.

And who has Madonna chosen to curate January's input?  Malala Yousafzai?  Peter Tatchell?  Pragna Patel?  No.  That well-known philanthropist, Katy Perry !!!???

“I am so fortunate to have the freedom to express myself through music,” gushed Perry. “I believe that 2014 can be a year of great social change.”

Quite a statement from the pop princess.  On the surface, she seems one of the more lightweight singers at the top of the charts preferring to sing about Daisy Duke bikinis and fireworks than stray into the pop politico arena like P!nk and Lily Allen.  

Perry has 3 mainstream albums choc full of pop confection with nary a Masses Against The Classes in sight. This blatantly begs the question why Madonna, who has come under fire for using philanthropy to further her celebrity, would choose someone who doesn't have the credentials when it comes to human rights.  Especially when that person has been criticised for deriding minority groups.

Her breakthrough hit I Kissed a Girl was singled out by lesbian groups irked she had reduced girl-on-girl smooching to nothing more than a bit of teenage boy titillation.  Lines like 'It's not what good girls do' understandably caused friction with gay rights groups who were already unhappy with lyrics to a previous song.

Early in her career, Perry wrote and recorded an unremarkable track called Ur So Gay.  The lyrics bemoan an ex-boyfriend for being a bit fey.  He wears designer clothes, drives an eco car, reads Hemingway and is a vegetarian.  For Perry and her blinkered binary view of gender, all of this points to the obvious conclusion that he’s gay.  It’s undeniably homophobic and after initial opposition, Perry was quick to set the record straight.

"The fact of the matter is that we live in a very metrosexual world. You know, a girl might walk into a bar, meet a boy, and discover he's more manicured than she is. And they can't figure it out. Is he wearing foundation and a bit of bronzer? But he's buying me drinks at the same time! I'm not saying you're so gay, you're so lame. I'm saying, you're so gay, but I don't understand it because you don't like boys!" 

Perry is totally unaware her explanation digs her a deeper hole.  Her level of ignorance and stupidity are not befitting a human rights initiative.  I mean, would a pro-gay humanitarian like Madonna support such points of view?

Listen here as Madonna waxes lyrical about a pre-fame Katy Perry and her 'so good' song Ur So Gay.  A glowing endorsement.

Countless articles have been written opposing the song but Perry remains indignant and still plays it live to this day.  Whatever her intention, the use of the word gay as a negative is harmful and each time she plays it onstage, she has thousands of teenagers singing along to the chorus reinforcing the insult.  Perry stresses she doesn't use the word as a derogative term yet at this V Festival performance she introduces the song by encouraging people to leave voicemails to their ex-boyfriends saying 'Ur So Gay'

and in this performance, in front of a high school audience, Perry spots an old classmate who turned down her affections and dedicates the song to him - 'Ur So Gay'.  

Fans argue Perry is a gay ally as she has come out in support of equal marriage but by still performing songs which are abrasive to many gay people, it's hard to believe she is fully committed to the cause.  Are her words of support a contrived part of her pop star profile? Similarly, why would Madonna choose Perry for her campaign opposing persecution when there are a hundred more suitable people?  Because this really is more about celebrity than philanthropy, that's why.  

Survival of the Fitties.

Two economists based at the University of Wisconsin recently ran a study rating CEOs on their aesthetic beauty and it seems film star looks are good for business.

They assessed 677 CEOs on their ‘facial geometry’ - i.e. making sure that everything was in the right place and no eyes were looking in opposite directions - and it showed there's a direct correlation between the CEOs who scored high on the FAI (Facial Attractiveness Index) and their company’s stock performance.

Andrew Witty: CEO of GSK (and he's FIT)

In addition, attractive CEOs also earn more and strike better deals in the boardroom.

"Beauty is wealth: CEO appearance and shareholder value." reports having a CEO with a face to rival George Clooney’s “has a positive and significant impact on stock returns surrounding the first day when the CEO is on the job, indicating that shareholders seem to perceive more attractive CEOs to be more valuable."

Mark Carney: Governor of the Bank of England (increases my interest rate)

This isn’t new, we all respond better to people in authority if we find them attractive.  At school, it was always easier to do homework for the teacher you had a crush on, chances are the quality of work would be better too.  Poor old Miss Woodburn, the silver-haired spinster, barely ever got her full quota of English essays in on time whilst Mr Michaels had a towering stack of neat papers on his desk first thing.  With a bag of apples on top.  We’re just drawn to good-lookers, it didn’t need an academic study but it’s always good to get the confirmation.

The economic study of beauty, or to give it its proper term - Pulchrinomics - was first looked at twenty years ago.  It doesn’t just concern those at the top.  Those considered more attractive earn around 5% more than those of average appearance while wages of people with below-average looks earn less.  No wonder the dowdy girl in accounts always looks so miserable.  She should make an effort with her appearance - it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy!

We live in a world increasingly obsessed with appearance.  Like it or not, Superificiality is Queen (fitting, as most queens are superficial).  The beauty business is booming like never before and the corporate world is no longer immune.  You have to make the most of your appearance if you want to get on.  It may not be morally sound but business isn’t, it never has been, you have to play the game.  People are ultimately judged on ability and achievement but if it came down to the wire, the person who is more pleasing on the eye is going to have the edge.  If you had to choose between two equally-pegged Gillians for the promotion, Anderson is always going to get it over McKeith.

As these companies with the hotties at the helm thrive, expect the less-facially-gifted CEOs to be pushed aside in favour of new Rock Star Chief Executives.  Companies with failing fortunes will employ supermodels to be their public face.  Soon we will have Dreamboys taking the annual seminar while the real-life pug-faced CEO is sat behind the screen feeding the speech via an earpiece.  It’s another Milli Vanilli disaster waiting to happen.

Anybody with below-average looks will be out of business in less than 18 months.  Plastic surgeons and hair-restorers will be in demand as The City becomes more pretty.  But, of course, there will always be one exception to the rule. 

Well, alright then, two…

You can read more about this lop-sided fish-faced old queen here

So, How Was Your First Morning Back At Work?

I am at my first client meeting of the year.  I arrived on time.  I have been here 20 minutes and they are still not ready to see me.  I realise this is the first day back for a lot of people and they may have a lot to do but so do I.  Why do they think their time is more important than mine?  If you arrange a meeting for 11.30am then you should be ready to go at 11.30am.  As it is, I am sat in a corner of the office - they don’t have a reception - waiting for them to finish what they are doing.  I can see them, they are both at their keyboards tapping away.  I’m anticipating our chat will last 30 minutes tops.  They should do all their stuff after I’ve gone.  It’s rude.

I’m looking around their office, there are paper cups on the window sill, left over from the Christmas party no doubt, a shabby way to start the New Year.  The staff have got their coats on the backs of their chairs, I hate that.  And their recycling bin is overflowing.  On the first day back!  Tut.

It’s so hot in here, I can barely breathe.  I know we’re in January but we’re hardly in the midst of a polar vortex like our American friends.  I’ve already taken my jacket off and I may have to remove my sweater in a minute but I want to look smart.  I have a pale blue shirt on underneath and I fear I may be perspiring too much to take it off, if I knew I was coming to a meeting in a sauna, I’d have worn a white shirt - and brought poppers.  

There’s a girl at her desk in a scarf and gloves, there’s always one, isn’t there?  I bet she’s the one who turned the thermostat up to tropical.  Bloody princess.  Oh my gosh, she is rubbing her gloved hands together as if she is still freezing, she must have the blood of a lizard.  How does she cope outside?  I can feel the sweat beginning to trickle down my back, I’m desperate to crack a window for a bit of fresh air.  

I’m in a bad mood now.  I wasn’t when I got here.  I might leave.  Why do we put up with this?  I could be running a vineyard in France with Julian.  No treks across London on the tube.  That was a barrel of laughs this morning.  Everybody stood in silence on the platform as if they were about to be put in front of a firing squad.  Perhaps some of them were.  I could even see a couple of people silently debating whether to jump in front of the train as it pulled into the station.  Real life begins again today.  Ugh.  

One of them has just taken a phone call.  Great, that will be at least another 5 minutes added on to my wait time.  Still, at least I can sit here and bitch about them on my blog.  See!  This is the very reason why you shouldn’t keep people waiting.  They might tell the internet about the permanent stench of microwave meals that hangs in the air in your office or your IT guy who is addicted to online poker or the fact that you are listening to The Corrs.  Nobody listens to The Corrs anymore.  It carbon dates your workforce to 1998.  I wish I hadn’t come.  I’m thinking of naming and shaming them but then the contract would well and truly be over.  Perhaps I want it to be?

The Ice Princess is putting a coat and hat on, she is going outside!  This is the most interesting thing to happen since I got here.  I’m interested to see how she will cope.  She’s so skinny it’s possible she may freeze mid-stride.  She’s mummifying herself leaving only a slit for her eyes.  She’s created an insulated version of a burkha.  She goes out.  I don’t look up as she walks past.  I don’t like her.  I’m sure it’s her who’s turned this room into a greenhouse.  I’m going to have to take my jumper off.  Or I could leave.  I start to work out if I can afford to start the year without this contract.  I can.  I think I’m going to leave.  Although it would be very unprofessional of me to just walk out.  I look over at the guy on the phone, he looks over at me and puts up his spread hand to suggest ‘5 more mins’.  It’s now five after noon.  I wait five more mins…

I have now waited for longer than I anticipated the meeting to be.  I should be leaving about now and we haven’t even got started.  Again, why do they think their time is more important than mine?  Arrogant arseholes.  There’s a crisp packet tucked down the side of my chair.  The weather is terrible outside but I can still tell their windows are filthy.  See, keep somebody waiting and they will notice the cracks in your operation.  Nobody has interacted since I’ve been here.  Nobody in this office is happy to be back.  I feel myself about to fall into a pit of depression I haven’t felt since I holed up in my bedroom at the age of 16 with a Leonard Cohen LP.

The Ice Princess is back.  She reeks of smoke.  She stomps back in and complains about how cold it is outside.  Not cold enough to go out and have a cigarette, obviously.  I hate smoking.  She’d better not be in on the meeting.  I’ll be offering her a Tic Tac.  Nothing worse than fag breath.  Ugh, this is loathsome.  I’m irritated.  Unless this meeting turns out to be highly productive and fun, I’m not coming back.  I’ll make some excuse about how an established client has increased the workload for the next 6 months.  It would be easy to get out of this.  In fact, I’ve already made up my mind.  Ah, one of them's coming over, let’s see how this goes…

And they’re gone again.  Just came over all smiles and shaking hands and now they’ve gone off ‘for a quick wee’ before we get started.  A quick wee?  Really?  This is over.  Right, I’m positing this blog now.  I sincerely hope your first morning back was a darn sight more productive than mine.  Happy New Year Everyone!!!  May it be a prosperous one!