Things that make you go hmmm

As I read the news online today, I experienced more than the usual amount of eyebrow raising and 'WTF?' moments. So it seemed logical that today’s entry reviewed the colourful, wacky world of news headlines.


"Please Explain - The Movie"
I’ll say! I would like to send a big ‘please explain’ to Screen Australia and Film Victoria, who have apparently kicked in over 100k of taxpayer dollars to fund a film about Pauline Hanson.

Writer/Director Anna Broinowski claims the film will have an "affectionately humorous tone". But I myself don’t see what’s so funny about that small-minded moron who is not worthy of being a redhead. Some of the coolest people I know have red hair, but she is not one of them.


"Mastercheat?"

Poor old Chris Badenoch of MasterChef fame. He may well be a cheating s.o.b. but I don’t see why his ex is being allowed to air her grievances in public. Seriously, who is this woman? And why do we give a flying continental what old mate did or didn’t do to her?


The guy is a reality TV cast-off, who quite frankly does not have the looks or personality to even command the interest of remote-control toting housewives. Seeing they voted for one of their own. So why are we still hearing about it??


"Flash Gorden sits pretty"
OMG… spare us another Brynne Gordon interview. For the sake of all that is holy!! I mean this is really scraping the bottom of the barrel, even for a glorified tabloid like the HS. Fair enough, this twit got her baps out at the Brownlow, made the social pages for a day or two and we all had a good laugh. But as the saying goes… ’15 minutes of fame’ people!


Get her off and do it quickly I or might even stop visiting the website just to make fun of your ridiculous headlines.


Now if these examples are not enough to make you feel good about yourself, just take a look at this photo and remember the following two things folks…


1. It is perilous to believe your own hype, and,
2. There really is no substitute for brains.

Race Disgrace

I like to think I’m a realist.


And the benefit of being of realist is having the ability to recognise that sometimes, tough decisions need to be made.


In the corporate world, such decisions are made on a daily basis - especially in the current economic climate. They are strategic business decisions and ones which can often drastically affect the future outcomes of an organisation.


Sometimes the decision itself is to do nothing. To not succumb to pressure or opinion and change that policy, product or directive. And they are justified in the interest of self preservation.


The decision by Racing Victoria to allow entry into the Spring Carnival to two horses owned by Chechnyan President Ramzan Kadyrov - despite his horrific human rights record - is not one of them.


Greens Senator Bob Brown brought the issue to light last week, labelling Kadyrov a ‘blood-stained dictator’ and calling on RV to reject his two horses, Mourilyan and Bankable.


And rightly so.


From all credible reports, Kadyrov is a man who having forced his way into power in Chechnya, has perpetuated a culture of fear, death and lawlessness of the highest order. He runs a private army, the Kadyrovites (is this not the ultimate narcissist??), who the Human Rights Commission believe, beyond any doubt, are responsible for hundreds of deaths and disappearances, as well as major crime and corruption rackets. Given the fact that these so-called Kadyrovites are under direction from Kadyrov himself, how can the blood on his hands be disputed?


I’m sorry… but are we doing this now? Are we happy to pretend that our treasured national event is all champagne and strawberries, by rolling out the welcome mat to horses that have clearly been bought with blood money?


The official party line from RV's chief steward Terry Bailey, is that the organisation is “powerless” to stop Mourilyan and Bankable from entering. This is based on the fact that as Kadyrov technically doesn’t have any criminal convictions, RV has “no reason to stop them coming”.


Is Bailey for real? How many reasons does he need?? That justification might apply to some of the shady connections which no doubt exist in racing. And I will concede that Racing Victoria are - to an extent - powerless in regards to individuals who carry no convictions within Australia. But we are talking about an international war criminal, who is suspected of countless human rights violations and has amassed his fortune by extorting precious natural reserves from his own country.


It’s about time certain people admitted that there are bigger issues at stake than gate attendances at Spring Carnival.


I will be boycotting betting on Mourilyan and Bankable and encourage others to do the same. If other morally bankrupt punters still want to back them... let it be on their conscience.

Decisions, decisions

My mother tells me I'm a walking contradiction.


It’s pretty standard stuff. I detox Monday-Friday, with red wine on the list of prescribed substances, and blowout on weekends. I lament wasting money, then arrive home brandishing another top/pair of shoes/accessory I ‘really needed’. I get upset when others show a lack of tolerance, but would offend the ears of a sailor with my colourful driving commentary.


It’s classic Gemini make up really… when I'm good I'm very good, and when I'm bad I'm terrible.

But I’m starting to worry whether I will ever actually commit to something. You see I’m also a chronic mind-changer. I either really love something, or really loathe it and will fluctuate between the two at the drop of a hat.

My love life is no different. In fact my friends have a standard question which is inevitably asked when I start seeing someone new... “Has he walked the plank yet?”


It happens instantaneously… and sometimes so fast that I even surprise myself. One minute I'll be sitting happily on a dinner or drinks date thinking oh he’s cute/smart/funny/great bum in jeans, and then uh-oh. A strange laugh, opinion or gesture… and the poor guy topples overboard.


One friend recently suggested speed dating as a potential solution to this problem. You know, to weed out the guys with high plankability. Not interested? Looking for the exit? No worries just wait for the bell and then, ‘Oh sorry Tom/Harry/Dick (usually the latter) what a shame our time is up…'


But even with speed dating, it’s a fine line isn’t it?


There’s the expectation that you should pick someone simply because you're in a room full of singles looking for a date / one night stand / future spouse. Or you might hit it off with someone who appears funny and interesting - but you might also have met a good actor, whose high level plankability is hidden behind well-rehearsed and delivered responses.


Another friend has tried to convince me that internet dating isn’t as bad (in theory) as the stalker/teacher/student affairs we see in the news. What better way than to screen the profiles of potential suitors online, with the power to cut them off if they - and I quote – ‘get weird’. Because at least you don’t have to ever meet them, right?

Wrong! There are freaks out there who could find you faster than a drive-thru McDonalds… so it's more a matter of when!


So I thought it was timely that Channel Nine aired the old stolen identity/stalking drama The Net last week and advised my friend to watch it. (Not that she needs to worry, her man is so well-trained he could cook Julie from MasterChef into oblivion and actually volunteers to make her races head-wear… while remaining plenty big and manly of course).


Perhaps there is another more sensible, mid-level dating option.
Multiple choice dating.


You could start by running through each others vitals – name, age, occupation, favourite pizza topping, Anchorman quote etc. Then jump into finding out what really makes the person tick (think Cosmo quiz, but broader and much more insightful). For example:


Question 1. How often are you inclined to talk about your ex-girlfriends?
a). Daily
b). Weekly
c). Monthly
d). Never


Question 2. We have a disagreement, are you most likely to;
a). Say nothing
b). Call me names
c). Buy me flowers
d). Want to talk about it


Question 3. Your mother is in town, are you most likely to;
a). Take her out for the day
b). Take us both out for the day
c). Make me take her shopping while you go to the football
d). Sleep in her bed


SPLASH!


Wouldn’t it be great to know all of this up front? The questions would go both ways of course, as I’m not suggesting for a minute that girls are beyond reproach. There is an abundance of nutty chicks out there, just as there are plenty of wankers - and let’s face it - you’re always a wanker to someone. It’s simply a matter of finding the right fit. Someone whose values and likes align with your own.


Yes. I think Multiple Choice Dating would save people a lot of time, legal fees and therapy.


But I reserve the right to change my mind.


Now... I'm not really a 'dater' as such (and you're about to see why) but there have been a few little gems which I have filed away, to one day share with the world. I hope they prove helpful for male readers.


When on a date...
1. Don’t talk about my eyes, I know they are nice
2. Don’t talk to my boobs, I know they are very nice
3. Saying ‘I could fall in love with you’ on the first date is a little forward
4. When asked what you do for a living - ‘ding!ding!’ is not an acceptable answer. (Being a tram driver is an admirable profession but the audible clue was weird/misleading).
5. If I tell you there is no spark, the wrong answer is ‘then let’s go spark hunting’
6. Telling me that you might get back with your ex-girlfriend on our first date is a real conversation killer

Gen Why?

I have often wondered whether I truly belong to Generation Y. Not so much because I feel more like a Gen X, but because in all honesty I think, how could I possibly be one of them?


The iPhone toting, fluro t-shirt wearing screenagers. The ones who have absorbed more information from media and digital technologies by age 8 than their grandparents did in their entire lives.

Because I often look at these guys with as much bewilderment as Gen X and the Baby Boomers do, tsk tsking to myself and wondering ‘what will they think of next?’

But as I sat down to write yet another resignation letter this week, it dawned on me. Not only am I one of them, but upon reflection, it seems I am something of a pioneer.

Here is why…


Now, I was surprised that the internet couldn’t produce a comprehensive or endorsed list of Gen Y traits, but after consulting many credible sources (uni studies, independent research, opinion pieces, perezhilton.com – ha ha kidding) the following appear to be the prevailing qualities which identify us new millenials.


1. Technology savvy
I don’t claim to write java scripts, nor can I re-wire a mother board. But I know how many gigs of RAM to ask for, the implications of my ISDN not talking to my WAN and can work as effectively from a park bench as I can my desk.
I shop, pay bills, study, book holidays, bank and self-diagnose online and can text, email and check FB on my mobile, whilst performing almost any other task.

2. Tendency to travel and will move for work

I filled my first passport at 26 and have visited every continent except Antarctica. I’ve trekked the Inca trail to Machu Picchu, done a sunset game drive in the Serengeti, visited Christ the Redeemer, ridden a camel around the Pyramids, rode a Gondola in Venice, visited the temples of Angkor Wat, run with the bulls, drunk cocktails in the Big Apple and climbed the Eiffel Tower – twice. And those are just the highlights.

70% of Y Gen Australian’s have already spent considerable time overseas and 65% intend to spend time overseas in the future according to a survey conducted by STA Travel (as read on statravel.com.au)
(BTW, you can read more about my last adventure at http://www.lasmuchachas-sa.blogspot.com/).

3. Seek job fulfilment and change jobs frequently

I’ve worked in Melbourne, England, Ireland, Qatar, the West Indies and soon, Canada. I have had 23 jobs from babysitter, paper girl, music store attendant, usher and bartender, to event manager, marketing and communications officer, media and PR person and hopefully one day, writer, author and if there's time, bikram yoga teacher.

A survey commissioned by International Customer Service Professionals revealed that 67 per cent of Generation Y’s plan to change jobs within the next 12 months and 91 per cent within the next 1-2 years (as read on careerone.com.au)

4. Goal oriented / ambitious

My career is in major events, mostly contracts, working to a deadline, finishing at a finite point in time. So far I have lasted only six months in a regular job, before the predictability of my days drove me up the wall.


5. Stay at home longer
I may have left the nest at 17 for uni, but in the past five years alone I’ve moved back in on six occasions.

6. Free speaking

I assume, if you’ve read up to here, that you have worked this out already. But suffice to say, don’t discuss something in front of me if you don’t want my opinion.

Social researcher and leadership expert Avril Henry said this week that Gen Y would rather quit a job than work for an employer who didn’t value their opinion, saying “Gen Y will leave a job without another job to go to even in the current environment.” (as read on news.com.au)

7. Free spending

I have only ever been able to save before each holiday/trip and even then I’ve ridden the plastic fantastic for all it’s worth. I have lost or broken 5 phones, 3 iPods and 1 digital camera and simply replace them with new ones. If I want it, I buy it... plain and simple.

So there you have it… my life as a Gen Y.

Now that I’ve owned up to it, I actually feel a bit more justified in my life choices. So next time I walk into an employer’s office, resignation letter in hand, or my parents give me that incredulous look followed by ‘you’re going where?’ I will simply say, it’s my generation baby.

We might not be children of the revolution, but the nature of the world is to revolve, which mine does… around me!

News Flashes

On Monday night, I watched with delight as most contestants found love, lust or something in between on the third season of Farmer Wants a Wife. It was however, a particularly cringe-worthy finale and I had to channel change several times to avoid gagging.

Gavin having a d&m with Rebecca whilst perched awkwardly on the plough was one of them. Then he leaned in for the kiss and I had to watch a full five minutes of City Homicide just to erase the memory. Mind you, the acting endeavours of Aaron Pederson were no more palatable.

And surely well-to-do Farmer Phil could have done better than “she ticked all the boxes and I ticked her box”… way too much information Phil-thy! Did anyone actually believe she was interested in him by the way? I ain’t sayin she a golddigga…

Speaking of Kanye, if the Before the Game panel are prepared to cast the net a little wider for my favourite segment this week, Kanye is a cert for Tool of the Week. What an absolute muppet. Sure, if Taylor Swift had actually been singing I wouldn’t have minded if he unplugged her microphone… but wrenching it from her as she accepted an award was very uncool.

A note to Mr West… stop being such a tool and start working on producing another album as good as College Dropout. Word.

And finally, it would be remiss of me to allow the great Patrick Swayze to pass away without some form of tribute.

There have been some good chick flicks in my time, but none which hold a candle to Dirty Dancing. Nobody could rock a high-waisted trouser like you Patrick. And despite your many cinematic indiscretions since 1987 (obvious exceptions: Ghost, Point Break and Donnie Darko), you will forever live on in our hearts, minds and living rooms as Johnny Castle.

Celebs and fans alike have rushed to the internet airwaves to attest to what a top bloke you were, always displaying humility and compassion. This was never more evident than in 2004, when you turned up at the premiere of Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights. That was probably tougher than chemo.

R.I.P Patrick.

“I'm gonna do my kind of dancin' with a great partner, who's not only a terrific dancer; somebody who's taught me that there are people willing to stand up for other people no matter what it costs them; somebody who's taught me about the kind of person I wanna be”.

Fabulousness: An Epidemic

At the risk of following up one pro-women entry with another of a similar nature, I read an article on the Daily Mail website today which was equal parts amusing and disturbing.

Entitled The Ego Epidemic, the piece detailed a study by two psychologists, Drs Twenge and Brown (both yanks), on the growing number of women who display narcissistic tendencies and an inflated sense of their 'own fabulousness'.

My first issue with this, is that the good doctors interviewed 37,000 college students, yet the article draws all its parallels and implications in reference to mid-30s single career women. Chalk and cheese no? Completely different lifestyles, drivers of choice, aspirations, desires etc.

Secondly, the following statement which reads: An estimated ten percent of the population suffers from narcissism as a full-blown personality disorder. Well that would be really alarming if it were true! But unfortunately the author didn’t see any need to back it up.

Despite my personal feelings on its validity, I will share the symptoms of this ‘disorder’ with you, just in case you come across it. (Unfortunately there was no information regarding treatment, so you're on your own there).

The symptoms include: a grandiose sense of self-importance, the belief that he or she is special or unique and in some way better – either intellectually or physically – than others, a requirement for excessive admiration; a sense of entitlement, whether to fame, fortune, success and happiness or simply to special treatment…

The list goes on…

Now I also resented the attempted manipulation by the author who interviewed some poor bastard called Dave, who appears to have a bad case of battered mans syndrome. The 40-year old divorcee, who recently joined a dating agency and in his own words ‘is not perfect - but is told he is an eligible and pleasant guy’, has had the misfortune of meeting several of these preying mantis types. An experience which led him to believe that 'women were living in a Sex And The City-inspired fantasy world'.

So what you're saying Dave, is that women have lost their grip on reality because of a TV show?

I must admit, I do feel sorry for him. But maybe these women were simply not at the ‘oh bugger it, he’ll do’ stage of their lives yet? Perhaps he should try older and more desperate ones?? It seems more a case of Dave underselling himself than anything else. Surely even the most drippy, balding, middle-aged pommy git could muster up a more enticing description of themselves than ‘eligible and pleasant’.

I mean, every woman loves a bargain, but painting yourself as the Black & Gold brand of boyfriends isn’t exactly going to get hoards of discerning single women whipped into a frenzy Dave.

Look, maybe the researchers are right. Maybe us ladies should just get back into our boxes. After all, chicks have had a pretty good run over the past two decades. Perhaps all the womens lib and equality has gone to our heads a bit??

To fully explore this question, I thought it best to do some research. I came across the webpage profile of Dr Twenge who, as it turns out, is a woman herself. It was in this moment, that the real truth came to light.

Here is her photo…

Now I’m not trying to poo poo this woman’s entire career. I just wonder whether her motives for conducting such a study were a tad… questionable.

At a guess, I'd say that there is (or was) something going on between her and Dr Brown. So I did a little further investigation and I could suddenly see how that relationship might have its difficulties... given the title of his latest book is When you love a man who loves himself.

Dr Twenge, might I suggest a hairbrush and some time outdoors might help your cause?

Chicks on the front line

Watching the 7pm Project last night, I found myself getting rather irate at an ex-Commando politician named Stuart Robert, who was trying to defend why women are currently not allowed to apply for the Special Forces.

Now before you roll your eyes gentleman... I'm not launching a feminist tirade. Sure, I expect equality as standard behaviour, and don't appreciate men conversing with my breasts. But I also like it when the cute muscly ones move weights for me at the gym.

But this Mr Robert clown (who I suspect still sleeps in his khakis and is often found practising covert ops in his backyard) gave the following reasons for this discrimation:
Commandos spend long days without sleep - clearly not a gender biased issue

Commandos use every ounce of mental strength - as far as I know, there's no evidence to suggest men are mentally stronger than women (in fact I'm tipping most evidence is to the contrary), and finally,

Commandos are tough enough to tip the blood from their boots and put them back on - really? have you ever seen a guy stub his toe and not carry on like a pork chop?

To his credit, Charlie Picking went slightly green at the bloody boots comment and said he certainly couldn't do it. (And I suspect that none of these modern day MacGyver's ever walked up Racecourse Drive on Derby Day with multiple skin flaps hanging off each foot).

But seriously, is the whole 'tough enough to tip blood out of your boots' prerequisite written on the application form for Special Forces? Do they ask the question at the entrance exam? 'Solder! Are you prepared to piss blood in your boots boy?' 'Yes sir!'

I don't diminish the role these guys play (and admit I may have seen A Few Good Men too many times)... obviously these Special Forces types are not your average guy.

But it doesn't change the facts. This rule means policy makers believe every single woman in society to be weaker than the average male. They must, because even males are at least given the opportunity to fail. Whilst the toughest, most athletic, determined woman is still rated below them... seeing she can't even fill out the form.

Is it because pink pen is too hard to read?

Realistically, it's unlikely many women would make it, but I have no doubt there's a few G.I. Jane types out there who could wipe the floor with the average bloke.

A rather unappetising entry...

On Sunday, after showering Dad with the usual Fathers Day gifts, we headed out to meet relos for lunch.

The venue of choice (not mine - for the record) was in Frankston, which I was prepared to overlook seeing it was the most convenient mid-point for all parties. The most important fact remained that as Pop's first Fathers Day without Nana, we made the effort to get together and buoy his spirits.

Lunch turned out to be oddly entertaining. A rather conservative aunty ended up sitting at the 'naughty' end (aka the White's end) of the table, and was privy to all the gory details of Kacey's prep class excursion to the zoo. Watching my aunt's face as Kacey told a particularly graphic tale involving 'monkey jizz' (her words, not mine) was one of the funniest things I've ever seen.

It was then revealed that the bar/restaurant we were at (which shall remain nameless) was the old stomping ground of both my parents, in their heyday. We listened to a number of stories from Dad which he was quick to point out 'were PR of course' - being pre-Rosie. The image of Dad chasing skirt at the bar was actually trumped by the thought of Mum sneakily downing voddys in the corner, no doubt looking as guilty as she did underage.

On a more appetising note, the seafood platter Mum and I shared was delicious and what good fortune for me that Mum didn't fancy her share of the oysters...

Fast forward 12 hours... and as I lay shaking and moaning on the bathroom floor, the oysters seemed considerably less fortuitous. I can assure you, there's something really disconcerting about seeing yourself turn the same shade as freshly poured concrete. Only now, having slept for two days, has my appetite / will to live returned...

Despite knowing I couldn't prove my oyster theory, I called the restaurant today - just to provide a friendly heads up that their Fathers Day special was in fact so special, it ALMOST KILLED ME. To their credit they accepted my detailed report with dignity, assuring me that 'kitchen staff maintain the highest possible standards' blah blah and should I wish to return the meal would, of course, be complimentary.

Well, thanks for the memories Frankston... but it's safe to say that your sucky town, and oysters, are off the menu for good.

I'm with Stupid

The disappearance of Minister Tim Holding from Mt Feathertop this week has prompted many to ponder the role of search and rescue ventures.

Since he sheepishly descended from the mount on Tuesday, the debate as to whether Holding should whip out his wallet and square up the Emergency Services has, predictably, been in full swing. I was actually quite gobsmacked at the vitriol being poured onto public opinion forums, with some suggesting that the Minister deserved to indeed perish for being such a knucklehead.

Far be it from me to use this event to pretend I have deep-seated political leanings (other than to admit that Holding seems like a bit of a tool), I’m more interested in the notion of anyone being invoiced by the Emergency Services, for needing rescue from ‘avoidable’ situations. Who then would determine an incident which had occurred as a direct result of stupidity? And how could they police it without sending stupid people ie. nine tenths of the general population, broke?

I suppose they could adopt a pay-as-you-go policy. You know, let people know what charges they might be in for up front . Imagine a rescue helicopter winching a stupid man to safety… “Look mate, you’ve been a bit of a peanut here. We’re gonna have to sting you. It’s 100 bucks to winch you up and another 200 to fly you back to safety. Will that be cash or credit card? Would you like any optional extras today?"

Hmmm. Is anyone else thinking what I'm thinking? Can open… worms everywhere?? Because if we're going to start appointing people judge and jury as to what constitutes an act of stupidity, what guarantees do we have that such a department won’t be entirely made up of stupid people? And what about all the silly poor people who will inevitably remain stuck on the side of cliffs?

Although on the plus side, this could open the door for other tactile units. I personally would like to see a constabulary for crimes against fashion, bad pick up lines, back hair and budgie-smugglers...

The Fast and the Frustrated

Driving to work one morning recently, I challenged myself to stay in one lane for the entire 40 minute journey. Avoiding all unnecessary lane changes, and the preceding split second when you perform a half-arsed blind spot check and hope for the best. It was a concerted effort to stay put, even when my lane was backed up by ten cars, and the next lane had just one. Avoiding the furious hand gestures and manoeuvring that go along with trying to get around some dickhead turning right when they shouldn't be.

To simply glide through the city, out onto the car park that is Kings Way a.m. and even, to wait patiently behind all the lovely parents dropping their lovely offspring at school. Resisting the urge to brazenly dodge beamers, mercs and Toorak tractors who'd half pulled off the road, and wait for them farewell their wonder-children.

No snarling, swearing, head shaking, angry gear changes followed by angry turbo acceleration, no scanning traffic furiously for the shorterst lane, or the aforementioned gratuitous head-flick sweep of my blind spot.

How do you think I went?

Well, lets just say, at the completion of that fun little game, it was
Traffic - 1, Me - zip.

As a road veteran of ten years, who has been in five car accidents (directly causing three), with duct tape holding up the front of her car and a meagre three demerit points to last until 2011 - the challenge was doomed from the start. But it did lead me to question, why am I such a bad driver?

Is it just inattention? My predilection to pay more notice to the radio and singing in full voice than to road rules? A tendency to apply make up, send texts and drink from my thermo-mug while driving?

I don't believe so.

Whilst these habits are certainly detrimental to my driving, and on occasion other road users, they are ultimately symptoms and not the root of the problem.

Which I have identified as: I am always in a hurry.

Always. Every bloody day. Perpetually rushing, almost late or already late, keeping someone waiting, about to miss a yoga class or desperately trying to get my foot in the door before the shop, chemist, post office or medibank outlet closes.

So I say this earnestly, to other drivers who have displayed similar irritation at my onroad behaviour as I do to other got-my-licence-from-a-weeties-box types: I am sorry and I share your frustration. I am frustrated too!

And after venting this concern with several friends recently, I discoverd that they are equally troubled. What is wrong with me/us/society today that we have become a nation of perpetually late, over-committed frustrated people??

Another victim of this crisis is the personal relationship. Take this tongue-in-cheek email survey I received yesterday, in which the lead question was:
When listening to someone tell a story, are you more often than not just waiting for them to finish so that you can tell your own story, which is not only better but also more directly involves you?

Well, yeah. Totally! Aren't we all guilty of that some, if not most, of the time? Looking at it in the harshness of print didn't exactly make me feel proud though. But again, I don't think it's mere selfishness or a fondness for my own voice (contrary to popular belief). This habit is borne from needing people to hurry the hell up, so we can move on to our next conversation, phone call, meeting, coffee, dinner, gym class, bikini wax and so on.

The older we get, it seems the busier we become. The first quarter hour of any scheduled catch up is genearlly spent doing the 'gosh aren't we busy', 'can't believe it's been so long' dance with whoever is lucky enough to have secured your time. The implication of this is not that we don't value these occasions, only that it's hard to maintain a meaningful connection when you're always looking at your watch.

Working in the busy world of major events for the past six years has not helped my propensity to rush. One particular legacy of this is my phone manner at work - which can be abrupt. And in an office where some people have spent the better part of their lives drinking from the same coffee mug, it doesn't go down so well. I was somewhat perturbed recently (and I use the term 'somewhat' lightly, as I only felt brief, token remorse for causing a colleague this level of undue anguish), to find out someone had put me on their self-proclaimed, and evidently quite public 'Shit List'. Apparently said person was quite miffed at the way I quickly ended phone conversations by saying thanks and promptly hanging up.

Well my goodness, it appears I failed to read the Telephone Code of Conduct in full! On which page of the HR manual was that? Oh, there it is.... 'Management recommends that all all employees shoot the breeze with their colleagues for a period of no less than five minutes, before terminating any phone call'. It was right next to the sections on 'Why it is wrong to use someone else's mug' and 'How stealing someone else's stapler and white-outing your name on it doesn't make it yours'.

I digress. But that 'Shit List' thing really pissed me off! So much so, that I'm now cultivating my own list entitled 'The Lame, Boring and Irrelevant People List'. And three guesses who is on top.

My point - finally - is that life is busy, busy, busy. But at what point are we simply rushing from one thing to another, breaking road rules and not actually having meaningful relationships?

Anyhow, you can all ponder this... but I have to run. I have to meet a friend for coffee, go to yoga, pick up my dry-cleaning and solve world poverty before lunch.