Thursday, 25 October 2012

The doctor will see you again

(c) Charles Schultz
Since the inaugural edition of Doctor LCM's BADASS consulting sessions, my inbox has been inundated with all kinds of requests for advice, solicited or otherwise.

Mind you, an inordinate amount of the emails received have to do with random strangers asking whether they can provide me with 'guest posts', or pay me to 'link to a site', or even send me some [insert random name of toy/food/clothing here] for me to test and review and blog about.

FFS. Do these people not realise how precious my time is? Tsk. Really. Impertinent little buggers.
More importantly, do they really really REALLY read my blog? I doubt it. As demonstrated in this little exchange that took place earlier in the year.

Anyway, I digress.

Doctor LCM is BACK.

The letter being addressed today hails from Nigel (not his real name, although I somehow think it might be his real name as it sounds like a real 'Nigel' type problem).

"Dear Doctor LCM

Please can you help me. I work in sales for a very important company. I spend lots of time pulling together spreadsheets and lists and writing very long explanatory emails that demonstrate how effective I am in my job, how well I am doing against my targets, and how good my prospects are. Yet whenever I am invited to attend a sales forecast meeting I am confronted with phrases such as "upside", "stripped out", "ripped revenue", and when I ask questions I am told to "take it offline". 
It is very confusing and I cannot understand what they are talking about. Why can they not speak plain English?

Yours sincerely,
Muddled Nigel"

Doctor LCM replies:

Dear Nigel,

Really? Life is too short. Claim the time back, quit, book a one-way flight to Havana and enjoy your days in the sun.

Trust me. Noone else will ever be bold enough to tell you that you are in the wrong job.

You're welcome.


If you too have a pressing business-related matter that you would like answered or on which to receive valuable advice, please submit to the Doctor and wait patiently in line.


Sunday, 21 October 2012

Mother's pride

After a couple of weeks where I have been so busy I have barely had time to scratch my nose, I came home to face the reality that not only was the Laundry Fairy missing (again), but my trusted cleaner was also on holiday. For three weeks.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I am all in favour of pulling my own weight and doing a fair share of the housework, however sometimes other things take priority. Managing the minis rugby team, taking up a new post as parent governor at the children’s school, pushing through changes and communications as a member of the local residents’ committee, drawing up and scoping out the go-to-market strategic plan for my main client, working on proposals for new opportunities with my business associates, getting through (or even starting) the latest selection of books for my reading club, trying to fit in some semblance of training when I don’t fall asleep on the couch instead…

Anyway. You get the gist. The last thing I fancied was hoovering, mopping, dusting or cleaning on a weekend. Or any weekend for that matter.

Cue the rescue party, aka the children. A reward system for all chores performed to an acceptable standard, a tangible prize for any of them who showed proactive initiative, and – hey presto – Alan Sugar eat your heart out! A right little armada of helpers intent on manoeuvring the vacuum cleaner around the house, pushing the mop over floors, polishing surfaces and cleaning bathrooms.

They were all winners in their own right, however a special mention would have to go to my daughter who not only took her duties to heart, but also provided suitable abidance by health and safety regulations.

Who needs a governmental department when you have this kind of talent?


Wednesday, 10 October 2012

Kevin's 1001 nights

Once more in to the fray with the Kevinettes. Another night of laughter, tall tales, good food and wine. And some banter about the books.

Hmmm, yes, the books.

Remember my last post about our very simple guidelines for the bookclub? The black book in to which we write our comments and thoughts about what we have just read?

Mine went as follows (for the first book): "Shag, kill, shag, kill, shag, kill, kill, kill, repeat..."
And for the second: "Like reading the rantings of someone with ADHD on speed who is about to suffer from an overdose of verbal diarrhoea."

Enough said.

Except that as we caught up over a glass - or three - of wine on a weekday night, I rumbled in my bag to find my notebook and pen and scribbled down some of the amusing anecdotes.

"Are you taking notes?" asked Belfast Blonde.
"Uhmm, yes," I answered, a tad sheepishly.

"For your blog?" queried the Botanical Artist.
"Yup!" I laughed, scribbling something unintelligible and putting the notebook away.

And so the evening progressed, we ate delicious food prepared by the Aussie Solicitor (who was hosting), were entertained by the Lovely Radiographer and her recounts of the Paralympics (she was a volunteer at the opening and closing ceremony), and had our Doctor of Psychology propose a potential new member*.

A lovely evening as always.

What about my notes? I hear you ask.
Yes, indeed. Here they are:

No, I have no idea either.
I blame the wine.

* We are still waiting to hear whether this prospective Kevinette will a) be game to join us, and b) be daft enough to last the distance after attending one meeting. Watch this space!


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