I asked an English colleague to find out what the exact title of a conference was – she rang the organisers. “It’s called ‘Giant Up Thinking for the Future,” she told me. What a stupid name, I thought to myself wondering how to work it in to the presentation I was preparing. Another colleague looked over my text for me and said, “Is that definitely the name of the conference?” “I know, it’s stupid, let’s double check with E.” “Yes,” she confirmed. “Are you sure,” said my smart colleague, “that it’s not ‘Joined Up Thinking for the Future?” E and I did feel foolish. Ah the perils of the Irish accent for the non-native. I do love the crisp delivery which my English colleague has; imagine, she finishes all her words. When we have crank callers, we ask her to take the calls because they all respect her crisp, clipped tones.
Work
Parable
The head of my organisation is presenting at a seminar on how to promote your career in a recession. I have been asked to attend. Unfortunately, I cannot do so as it is mid-term and I will be at home minding the children.
Follow Through
I have a colleague who is a vegetarian and loves animals. I think she may be a vegan and not use leather either. Very thorough. The most impressive moment came today when she gloomily confided to me that she thought she had rats under her decking (a distressingly common problem, apparently). “What will you do?” I asked. “I’ll get a humane trap and release them in the park.”
Is Everything Genetic?
Daniel: I’m the best in the class at Irish dancing.
Me: Good for you.
Daniel (after some reflection): The best except for S.
Me: Well, you know, S’s mother is a dancer, so you would expect him to be good at dancing.
Daniel: Am I good at what you do Mummy?
Me: Well, um, you probably have latent middle manager skills.
More Customer Service
When I first got my own car, about 15 years ago, I went to my father’s insurance broker for cover. The broker is based in Cork and I live in Dublin and, from time to time, I have considered changing to a Dublin broker but I never got around to it. Today, I called the broker to check something on my renewal quote. Our conversation went like this:
Me: Hello, I’d like to check etc.
Him: That’s Anne, is it? I’ll get your file.
I haven’t spoken to him in a year or more and he still recognised me on the phone straight away. He didn’t need my insurance number, my surname, my date of birth, my phone number or a six digit activation code to find my file. I don’t think that his brokerage will be losing my custom any time soon.
And in completely unrelated news, the Princess lost her front tooth last night (a dramatic event I completely missed since I was out winning the office pub quiz with my crack team). Now she looks like this.
Bicycle Racks are a Feminist Issue. Maybe.
I go to a number of conferences in the course of my work and there are always more men than women on the podium and, regardless of the gender make-up of the audience, there are always more men who ask questions than women. Why should that be? And why is it that that would be true pretty much in any line of work, even in professions like teaching which are female dominated? And is it only women who ever notice this? Why do I spend all my time counting? I see over on twitter that Suzy Byrne has made a campaign of counting the number of female panellists on Vincent Browne’s current affairs programme (not very many, if I might summarise).
The other night I was unlocking my bike from the rack and two (male colleagues) were there with their bikes also – I have a child seat on the back and they commented that they had been wondering who owned it. “I do,” I said, “bringing gender balance to the bike rack.” “Eh?” they asked. “Haven’t you noticed that there are never any other women’s bikes on the rack?” I said. They looked at me in surprise and amusement, no they would never in a life time have noticed. Could it be that I am overcounting?
Do you spend your time counting?