Look, I know I don’t stay in these fancy pants hotels so much as I used to, pre child, pre move, pre part time working, and maybe I’m completely out of touch with such matters, but, really, GREY shower gel? Grey? Scum coloured cleansing products? Who came up with that one?
Also, if I call housekeeping at 7.30 in the morning because I can’t find the iron that’s supposed to be in my room, and I want to give a linen skirt a quick once over on the ironing board they’ve so kindly provided, but I want to do it BEFORE I get in the shower so I can then hang skirt in bathroom for remaining crinkles to steam out a bit, and if I have to get a move on because an habitually early colleague is kindly picking me up, if I tell them I can’t find the iron – don’t tell me to go and have another look! Don’t tell me to double check. I’m nearly 34, I pretty much have that whole looking for stuff thing down. Don’t send the night porter round to my room to check that I’ve checked. People – I need to be getting in the shower now! Having checked in the wardrobe and the cupboards, don’t have the porter say to me “Oh, there’s no iron in here. How strange.” So I have to say well, yes, whilst these executive suites are undoubtedly both capacious and generous in their furnishing, I think I pretty much established the total and complete absence of iron more than 20 minutes ago, and I really should be getting ready now. Big day. Big meeting on behalf of my bosses boss. Bosses boss has stood these people up three times now. They hate me before they’ve even met me. I have to go sell these people ideas that mostly suck. The inadequacy of these ideas is paralleled only by the muppetry with which they have been delivered so far. I am going to have to sit in a room with more than a dozen senior people from the business who will all have their arms folded pondering all the lucrative and productive things they could be doing with their time. I’m going to have to explain this project (which is a fundamentally a good project despite troublesome gestation) look them in the eye, apologise for the stuff gone before that was nothing to do with me without actually demonising my colleagues, and get them to buy into in. Heck they don’t even have to buy, I’ll settle for short term lease and not being laughed out of the building. But I can’t do any of that until I’ve had a shower. I can’t get in the shower til the iron thing is resolved. PLEASE RESOLVE THE IRON THING!
posted by dodo @ 7:25 pm
3 Comments:
*snicker*
that's a horribly funny episode, sister. sounds like some bad voodoo.
how'd it all turn out? the meeting, I mean. can't leave the audience panting to know whether they hated you on sight, or if you were able to turn the pre-conceived notions on their proverbial heads at the very last minute with your fast-talking, sweet-walking sleight-of-hand maneuverings?
?
oh, and I almost forgot - the scum-toned shower gel? how very wrong. those who perpetrated the heinousness ought to be shackled and teased mercilessly. (I'm not one for physical violence, my government's promotion of such behavior notwithstanding.)
this company I work for - they're redefining Dysfunctional. I'm only in the office two days a week, so I don't exactly have it in my face all the time. which is good, else all the going about with mouth agog in horror might give me wrinkles. WHat happened next is pretty much still going on. The meeting itself endedup, after rather shakey start, ended up ok, they were pretty much on board. But then I ended up being put on another project, so never followed throguh on their expectations. Now I'm back on it, but they hate me all over again.
Next time I'll take buns.
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