Well, my work here is done. I made my presentation this morning, and can now sit back and try to stay awake for the remainder of the week. Actually, now that I think about it, staying awake might prove harder work than making another presentation. Seriously, there is nothing more tiresome than a Brit who loves the sound of his own voice. Unless perhaps it’s a blogger who writes 4,000 word stories about ex-girlfriends.
OK, bad example.
Not that the subject matter isn’t gripping. Why, worldwide sales meetings are nothing but exciting! We’re digging deep into the kind of hard decisions that cause most business leaders to freeze like a deer in the headlights. For instance, this morning we came to a global consensus that Profit = Good. On tomorrow’s agenda – Does “more profit = better”? Stay tuned, I’ll let you know how things turn out!
All in all, it’s been a good trip so far, aside from the fact that I forgot to pack a hairbrush. So I’ve been going with that insouciant, disheveled look that works so well for pop stars. A little hair gel, and rub my hands on my head and voila! Justin Timberlake! Of course, it doesn’t hurt that most of my UK colleagues combed their hair with a six pack last night. Jeezus, it’s like the night of the living dead when these guys get together. I’m just happy if they don’t pee themselves during my presentation.
But the meeting isn’t all drunkards from the North of England. We’ve got Americans, Flemish, Walloons, Catalans, and Germans from Westphalia here too. With all these different nationalities, and languages present, we are holding the meetings in Esperanto.
I’m kidding. I kid. I’m a kidder. The meetings are not in Esperanto. They are in English, and that universal language known as “Clip Art”. I’m not sure if there is anything more inane in the world than Microsoft Clip Art. Watching the presentations today I’ve discovered that this lack of creativity seems to transcend gender and culture. I find this both comforting, and disturbing. I just assumed it was us American’s that lacked imagination. God help us now.
Tonight we are going out to dinner for traditional Scottish fare. After that, we will sacrifice the blood of the working class in front of the monument to Adam Smith, then dance naked in the moonlight, chanting songs to the demons of capitalism.
OK, I made up the part about the human sacrifice, unless a few Brits passed out in the gutter qualify. I’m also still undecided about the dancing naked in the moonlight part, until I see what the weather is like. But I’m all for chanting songs to the demons of capitalism, it beats karaoke any day.