I scan the room and am comforted to see that nobody is looking smarter than I am today, as is always the case on team meeting day, and in fact almost every other day. But Brian does have those shoes on; I wrote a post-it regarding asking him about those didn’t I? Yes, I think I did. I notice that Ian, a promising Analyst, is, like me, wearing a skinny tie today. Only certain people can pull this look off, and Ian lacks the effortless style that I hold to do so. My tie is silk and from Christian Dior, his is clearly polyester and from Tierack, worst of all, it is light blue. The fact that he is an only an analyst prevents me from suggesting his tie as an agenda item to discuss at today’s meeting. Not all skinny ties work, in fact only skinny ties of a dark tone work, on certain people; not light blue and not on Ian. Skinny ties must be black or mid to dark blue. A white skinny tie, or white tie in any form, should be listed in the Rome Statute as a crime against humanity, in a fashion sense of course. In fact, wearing anything white in business dress other than a shirt is an offence of the same magnitude. White shoes? Unless it’s Halloween, head back to the general admission area at Randwick Races where you belong and drink your canned bourbon and coke. With white ties, no possible shirt and suit combination can ever mean this is a good idea for any rat racer who takes themselves remotely seriously. I make a note to mention this faux pas to Ian the next time I need his assistance on a potential investment. Ian is a character who I see some of myself in, and so I am sure he will appreciate this valuable feedback.
The meeting begins promptly at 11am as Brain launches into the agenda. As always, many of the attendees look bored and itching to leave. I’m listening today and the Blackberry stays in inside pocket of my Herringbone suit. After a few largely uninteresting updates on how my colleagues have fared in the last seven days, Brian reaches item 5, and turns to give me the floor. My suit is unbuttoned and I’m looking relaxed as I play with my favourite pen (I discovered that it matches my grey suits nicely, thanks Lauren). “Morning everyone” I say as I stand up. Nobody responds, which doesn’t surprise me as the pastries are taking a hammering. “As Brian alluded to earlier in the meeting, there have been some bumper developments and results recently.” I turn and nod at Brian, who is sitting straight and listening intently. This is a good sign. Body language in meetings tells you an awful lot about the people you are dealing with and their interest in the subject matter. Too often you can almost see the hamster on the wheel in people's heads taking some time out to have a cigarette and rub their feet. Brian’s hamster has just put a sweatband on his little head. I look at Jono next, it seems his hamster has gone out shopping, yet left the lights on to scare away burglars. I launch into my short but informative speech on how I personally have successfully negotiated the input of over a million dollars from private clients in the last seven days for our newest fund. Information like this must be short or you lose your audience and they’ll turn to muffins for salvation, and I have no intention of letting this happen today.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Team meetings
I decide that the lunch with Pete should go ahead as planned; telling that man-mountain you’re cancelling a free lunch and a chance for him to drink enough booze to fill an oil drum would be like telling Tony Abbott his topless photo shoot on the beach has been cancelled – borderline cruelty. I’ll just have to stay off the booze. I’m meeting Pete at 1pm, it’s now approaching 11am and our weekly team meeting is about to start in the conference room. My plans to scupper Jono seem somewhat futile now that I know Brian has made a firm decision most likely in my favour, but the team meeting will provide me with an invaluable opportunity to get today’s score even. Team meetings; the fun filled hour where you get a chance to remind your colleagues about how you’re much better at your job than they are at theirs. Even though this is always an enjoyable experience for me, it’s often a better use of my time to divert the attention away from myself whenever necessary and focus it on others so I can read emails on my Blackberry in peace, while enjoying the lovely selection of miniature pastries on offer.
Brain’s PA was having a crisis with her beloved miniature poodle at the end of last week so Sarah was tasked with distributing the agenda and readings for this week’s meeting. I asked that she put in an item where I have an opportunity to discuss what I personally have in the pipeline this week; one of my best weeks ever at Invest Co. Fortuitously, I know that Jono has lost a couple of clients in the last seven days, probably because he’s been too busy fantasying about the short-skirted hairdressers he continually meets in Bungalow 8.
I get in the room precisely a minute before it starts and grab my first mini blueberry muffin. Arriving a minute before commencement is essential as that way you don’t need to make unnecessary small talk with your colleagues about what they are doing for holiday this year, and other things you don’t care about. I accidentally arrived four minutes early once and almost got trapped in a conversation with Lauren about her plans for New Year. Thankfully the day before I had purchased my new Mont Blanc pen and so was able to tune out and think about how nice my signature would look writing with it while she rambled on about something to do with Hamilton Island.
Brain’s PA was having a crisis with her beloved miniature poodle at the end of last week so Sarah was tasked with distributing the agenda and readings for this week’s meeting. I asked that she put in an item where I have an opportunity to discuss what I personally have in the pipeline this week; one of my best weeks ever at Invest Co. Fortuitously, I know that Jono has lost a couple of clients in the last seven days, probably because he’s been too busy fantasying about the short-skirted hairdressers he continually meets in Bungalow 8.
I get in the room precisely a minute before it starts and grab my first mini blueberry muffin. Arriving a minute before commencement is essential as that way you don’t need to make unnecessary small talk with your colleagues about what they are doing for holiday this year, and other things you don’t care about. I accidentally arrived four minutes early once and almost got trapped in a conversation with Lauren about her plans for New Year. Thankfully the day before I had purchased my new Mont Blanc pen and so was able to tune out and think about how nice my signature would look writing with it while she rambled on about something to do with Hamilton Island.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Client lunches
I’m no faker or a fraud. I achieve things through hard work and determination; and my confidence and skills at persuasion are invaluable assets along the way. I’ve got a long way to go but I always did and continue to study hard, when required, and even now I am enrolling in a Masters Degree. You can’t sit still in this business, to challenge the best you have to be the best; and you don’t do that by sitting on you backside. I do everything by the book, as all good business people should. No inheritance from Daddy for me, no family members in positions of power, I got myself where I am and will get myself where I want to be on my own, and I like it that way. I get a little help along the way though my extensive network, but again, it’s my network that I built.
I no longer have the desire to interrogate Jono so I walk to his desk to give him the brush off. He’s not there, which is a shame as that would have been very satisfying. My assistant Sarah taps me on the shoulder and asks me to sign off her expenses, which are mostly things I have asked her to buy me like sushi, coffee and expensive staplers. Sarah has worked with me for a couple months now and ticks all the boxes required of a successful assistant. Young, but not too young; good-looking but not too good-looking and smart but not too smart. She’s spunky and we often flirt innocently, innocently from my side anyway. With a raised eyebrow she comments, “Look at all this coffee, you’ll get fat you know and we can’t have that can we.” Considering I use a personal trainer three times a week and run on the beach every second day, I find that unlikely, regardless, I make a mental note to check how fatty skim milk is. Unusually, I can’t think of a witty response so I just smile and show my recently whitened teeth, which does the job of making her giggle.
The talk of food reminds me that I have a client lunch today. I love client lunches, mainly because they usually turn into something resembling the night-out in The Hangover, excluding the rohypnol of course. I’ve wined and dined at some of this country’s finest establishments and today I’m taking Pete Dunstan to Quay to squeeze a six-figure sum out of him. Pete drinks like a thirsty fish and knowing how our lunches normally pan out we’ll talk business for about ten minutes, eat about ten mouthfuls and drink for ten hours. Unfortunately, this afternoon I have my meeting with Brian, meaning I have to either cancel lunch or stay off the booze, neither of which will make Pete a happy chappy. I’ll have to remind Sarah once again that when I have an important afternoon meeting, I cannot have a client lunch. And if I do have a lunch, my diary should always be cleared out for the rest of the day, and until 10am the following day. The last lunch Pete Dunstan and I had, about six months ago, consisted of alcohol, lap dancing, business, a meal and Pete losing his suit in a bet. In that order. Pete has the physique of a sumo wrestler on his holidays so being half naked on Martin Place didn’t do Tourism Australia any favours.
I no longer have the desire to interrogate Jono so I walk to his desk to give him the brush off. He’s not there, which is a shame as that would have been very satisfying. My assistant Sarah taps me on the shoulder and asks me to sign off her expenses, which are mostly things I have asked her to buy me like sushi, coffee and expensive staplers. Sarah has worked with me for a couple months now and ticks all the boxes required of a successful assistant. Young, but not too young; good-looking but not too good-looking and smart but not too smart. She’s spunky and we often flirt innocently, innocently from my side anyway. With a raised eyebrow she comments, “Look at all this coffee, you’ll get fat you know and we can’t have that can we.” Considering I use a personal trainer three times a week and run on the beach every second day, I find that unlikely, regardless, I make a mental note to check how fatty skim milk is. Unusually, I can’t think of a witty response so I just smile and show my recently whitened teeth, which does the job of making her giggle.
The talk of food reminds me that I have a client lunch today. I love client lunches, mainly because they usually turn into something resembling the night-out in The Hangover, excluding the rohypnol of course. I’ve wined and dined at some of this country’s finest establishments and today I’m taking Pete Dunstan to Quay to squeeze a six-figure sum out of him. Pete drinks like a thirsty fish and knowing how our lunches normally pan out we’ll talk business for about ten minutes, eat about ten mouthfuls and drink for ten hours. Unfortunately, this afternoon I have my meeting with Brian, meaning I have to either cancel lunch or stay off the booze, neither of which will make Pete a happy chappy. I’ll have to remind Sarah once again that when I have an important afternoon meeting, I cannot have a client lunch. And if I do have a lunch, my diary should always be cleared out for the rest of the day, and until 10am the following day. The last lunch Pete Dunstan and I had, about six months ago, consisted of alcohol, lap dancing, business, a meal and Pete losing his suit in a bet. In that order. Pete has the physique of a sumo wrestler on his holidays so being half naked on Martin Place didn’t do Tourism Australia any favours.
The talk with Tones
No answer, I’m not surprised but as usual, disappointed. Tony is one of those people who selfishly believe they are so busy that they can’t spare one minute of their day to write a quick email or return a phone call. One of my Rules of the Race is that you return contact promptly, mostly because I find people that don’t incredibly disrespectful and it prevents me getting things done. Still, he’s a mate and most importantly, my insider, so I continually make allowances for the fact that the he’s about as reliable as Amy Winehouse is to stay sober on St. Patrick’s Day.
Ignoring my agitation, I begin my daily activity of craftily convincing people with lots of money to let us at Invest Co put their dollars it to things they don’t understand. Brian walks by my desk as I’m speaking with a client who wants to know where my firm is going to invest the $500,000 I persuaded him to give us. I like and respect Brian, but I’m troubled again by the new Bluetooth headset he has been sporting and find myself once again squinting at it accompanied by a little shake of my head. My puzzled look changes to one of admiration as I notice the fine new shoes he is wearing, I must ask him where he got them, and so write ‘B shoes’ on a post-it to remind myself. “Hello?” Oh that’s right, I’m on the phone, “Yes err, sorry Mr. Phillips. I’ll send you the details of the new Fund’s proposed investments in the next 10 minutes. Say hello to your lovely wife Linda for me.” Linda, Mr. Phillip’s enchanting young American wife, and ever-present distraction whenever I have met her husband, continually tries to seduce me during the frequent stops her husband makes to the bathroom. If he wasn’t such an important client to me maybe I…. “Mate, wanna grab a coffee?” Jono has, as always, interrupted my thought process. I hate it when he calls me ‘mate’ but I agree to the proposal “Ok Jono, let’s go for a walk.” I know what’s coming; we are both about to do our best Columbo impression and try to scope out how our respective discussions with Brian have gone.
Before we begin our charade my mobile phone rings. It’s 10.48am, a full 48 hours after I sent Tony a text message asking him to call me as soon as possible. “Sorry, I’ve got to take this” I say while walking away into a meeting room. Mobile phone calls in a meeting room; the internationally reognised sign to the rest of the office that you’re either arguing with your partner, looking for a new job or generally doing something you shouldn’t be on company time.
“Tones, finally, any news?” Tony is a beer buddy of mine and the Melbourne based head of Invest Co’s HR department. A good bloke but like anyone who works in recruitment, he’s, well, you know, a bit of arse. “G’day. Sorry, been busy. I’m streamlining our staffing policies so we only hire people that can hit the ground running. Best practice, you know, win win.” Tony is a man of business buzzwords and expertly works them into almost sentence he speaks. “Yeah that’s great, but any news on the position?” Having been present at all three interviews Jono and I have each had for the Senior Manager role Brian is vacating as he takes up his Directorship, Tones is the man in the know. “Well Brian will be talking to your blokes this afternoon, as you know. Don’t push the envelope; he’ll talk to you when he’s ready. No hardball from him on this one, the decision has been made.” “Come on Tony, give me something. You owe me remember.” A short silence, then “Maybe put your tailor on standby.” All I needed to hear, not that there was even any real doubt.
Ignoring my agitation, I begin my daily activity of craftily convincing people with lots of money to let us at Invest Co put their dollars it to things they don’t understand. Brian walks by my desk as I’m speaking with a client who wants to know where my firm is going to invest the $500,000 I persuaded him to give us. I like and respect Brian, but I’m troubled again by the new Bluetooth headset he has been sporting and find myself once again squinting at it accompanied by a little shake of my head. My puzzled look changes to one of admiration as I notice the fine new shoes he is wearing, I must ask him where he got them, and so write ‘B shoes’ on a post-it to remind myself. “Hello?” Oh that’s right, I’m on the phone, “Yes err, sorry Mr. Phillips. I’ll send you the details of the new Fund’s proposed investments in the next 10 minutes. Say hello to your lovely wife Linda for me.” Linda, Mr. Phillip’s enchanting young American wife, and ever-present distraction whenever I have met her husband, continually tries to seduce me during the frequent stops her husband makes to the bathroom. If he wasn’t such an important client to me maybe I…. “Mate, wanna grab a coffee?” Jono has, as always, interrupted my thought process. I hate it when he calls me ‘mate’ but I agree to the proposal “Ok Jono, let’s go for a walk.” I know what’s coming; we are both about to do our best Columbo impression and try to scope out how our respective discussions with Brian have gone.
Before we begin our charade my mobile phone rings. It’s 10.48am, a full 48 hours after I sent Tony a text message asking him to call me as soon as possible. “Sorry, I’ve got to take this” I say while walking away into a meeting room. Mobile phone calls in a meeting room; the internationally reognised sign to the rest of the office that you’re either arguing with your partner, looking for a new job or generally doing something you shouldn’t be on company time.
“Tones, finally, any news?” Tony is a beer buddy of mine and the Melbourne based head of Invest Co’s HR department. A good bloke but like anyone who works in recruitment, he’s, well, you know, a bit of arse. “G’day. Sorry, been busy. I’m streamlining our staffing policies so we only hire people that can hit the ground running. Best practice, you know, win win.” Tony is a man of business buzzwords and expertly works them into almost sentence he speaks. “Yeah that’s great, but any news on the position?” Having been present at all three interviews Jono and I have each had for the Senior Manager role Brian is vacating as he takes up his Directorship, Tones is the man in the know. “Well Brian will be talking to your blokes this afternoon, as you know. Don’t push the envelope; he’ll talk to you when he’s ready. No hardball from him on this one, the decision has been made.” “Come on Tony, give me something. You owe me remember.” A short silence, then “Maybe put your tailor on standby.” All I needed to hear, not that there was even any real doubt.
‘Beat that slimy git Jono and then buy a new suit day’ begins....
D-day, or ‘beat that slimy git Jono and then buy a new suit day’ as I’ve come to think of it. On the face of it however it’s just another cold winter morning in Sydney. I’m sitting on the ferry with all the other rat racers holding our morning coffees waiting to start another day of trying to one-up each other in the concrete jungle that is the Sydney CBD. Well I say ‘waiting to start’ but for me anyway the working day began, as usual, when I picked up my phone and started reading emails immediately after I woke up. I’m sure my part time colleague and full time nemesis Jono did the same today too, that pesky brownnoser. It’s a big day for us and I, like Jono, intend to be a little bit richer and more important by the end of it.
Sipping my skim latte and reading my AFR, I become a little distracted and for a moment take smug satisfaction from the fact that I could not have pulled off a better suit, tie, watch and cufflink combination today. The dark grey tone of my Herringbone suit perfectly complimented by my black tie, white Hugo Boss shirt, black faced Omega watch and silver cufflinks, I even add a somewhat unnecessary but complimentary black scarf and umbrella; unnecessary as rain today is unlikely and the scarf does little or nothing to keep me warm.
The ferry docks and I enter my world. These streets and the offices that inhabit them have been good to me the last few years, and today I may be kissing a few paving slabs to show my gratitude.
Jono is in before me and I immediately notice how he has carefully untidied his desk to give the illusion that he has been in for hours, which of course he hasn’t. I see straight though this mainly due to the inane wink he gives me as I walk in ‘late’. I hope as always that Brian too sees straight through this farce. “Morning Jono, I assume Brian’s in?” I ask as he begins a few dramatic stretches. I get a strained “Yep” in response. Typical. “You look like you’ve been in for hours mate” I say sarcastically. Jono’s selective hearing of course means he didn’t register the remark. Jono knows Brian gets in at 8am, which means he would have got here today at 7.59am. It’s now 8.03am, “Damn ferries” I say to no one in particular.
My Brian sense tingles and I see him in the conference room. He glances at me and then at his gleaming gold Rolex. It says a thousand words. “Damn ferries” I curse again. Jono has done me like a kipper with this one, congratulations. Still, I have got some tricks up my carefully pressed Hugo Boss sleeves today, so I brush off this small defeat and sit down at my pine battle station and pick up the phone.
VXZSFTRNTASW
Sipping my skim latte and reading my AFR, I become a little distracted and for a moment take smug satisfaction from the fact that I could not have pulled off a better suit, tie, watch and cufflink combination today. The dark grey tone of my Herringbone suit perfectly complimented by my black tie, white Hugo Boss shirt, black faced Omega watch and silver cufflinks, I even add a somewhat unnecessary but complimentary black scarf and umbrella; unnecessary as rain today is unlikely and the scarf does little or nothing to keep me warm.
The ferry docks and I enter my world. These streets and the offices that inhabit them have been good to me the last few years, and today I may be kissing a few paving slabs to show my gratitude.
Jono is in before me and I immediately notice how he has carefully untidied his desk to give the illusion that he has been in for hours, which of course he hasn’t. I see straight though this mainly due to the inane wink he gives me as I walk in ‘late’. I hope as always that Brian too sees straight through this farce. “Morning Jono, I assume Brian’s in?” I ask as he begins a few dramatic stretches. I get a strained “Yep” in response. Typical. “You look like you’ve been in for hours mate” I say sarcastically. Jono’s selective hearing of course means he didn’t register the remark. Jono knows Brian gets in at 8am, which means he would have got here today at 7.59am. It’s now 8.03am, “Damn ferries” I say to no one in particular.
My Brian sense tingles and I see him in the conference room. He glances at me and then at his gleaming gold Rolex. It says a thousand words. “Damn ferries” I curse again. Jono has done me like a kipper with this one, congratulations. Still, I have got some tricks up my carefully pressed Hugo Boss sleeves today, so I brush off this small defeat and sit down at my pine battle station and pick up the phone.
VXZSFTRNTASW
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