Well, so much seems not to have happened since my last post that I really don't know where to begin. Or even end. But it will not be with football. So that's my excuse for spewing out the usual guff (I hope I'm not mixing metaphors too much - or too revoltingly - there) as I desperately try to pad this thing out.
My first stab is around shit managers (pause for gags...) And I don't mean people who manage shit, for whom I have a very healthy respect, btw - no no. Not mentioning any names, or in any way intending to implicate anyone currently involved in my professional life, I do have a general beef (pause for more gags...) about the way that many people who are somehow given the immense responsibility of leading others whilst in a state of permanent terror lest they be discovered for the human beings that they are. Before I tie myself in semantic knots, I will cut to the chase by focusing tightly on the specific areas with which I have some kind of issue. To wit, the eternally busy boss.
We are dealing with an archetype here, let's face it. The kind of person whose diary is always full with overlapping meetings, who always comes late to these meetings (if they happen at all) in any case (hardly surprising, I guess) and who - even when they make it - does not stick to the agenda, and ends up shouting an uninformed decision over their shoulder as they rush away to the next crisis. This is the path to the disaster.
There are certain signifiers to mark these people out, such as the half-finished Pret sandwich languishing on the desk, the IMPORTANT phone call which vindicates someone sitting like a lemon for 20 minutes in an inappropriate setting after a long delay to a scheduled discussion... and so on. All because there is no trust in those whom we lead.
We are cauterised.