I am still here at the “team building 2010” and still fighting the urge to stab Mr Berkley with my “Crystal Lakes Conference Centre” ballpoint pen. At least doing so would put it to some sort of use, because it sure as hell doesn’t write as can be evidenced by the etchings in my piece of paper and clipboard.
We are supposed to be writing down moments when we felt empowered in a team and then to discuss these with the group. The examples my “empowerment” my team mates have given range from the boring to the mind-numbingly boring. I don’t know if wizards or scientists have managed to measure boredom (probably in tears), but I’m pretty sure I am reaching a lethal dose.
Thankfully we decide to take a break for lunch before it was my turn to share. I’m not sure stories of slaying dragons would fit it after Doris’s story of how she felt empowered by being able put pictures of her 17 cats on her desk…
So we were sheparded towards the buffet table where a veritable banquet of food awaited us. I just hope they have those tiny little cocktail sausages with the mustard sauce. For the love of all that is good and holy in this world let them have those damn sausages. As people grab plates and join the queue there is the strangest dynamic as everyone edges closer to the food. It’s like an uneasy form of panic as you see all the favourite dishes depleting rapidly and the fishcakes remain untouched.
It takes quite a bit of manoeuvring and agility to finally get a plate and join the line and as I do I am met with a most joyous vision… COCKTAIL sausages! They have them?! This day might not be a complete waste after all. But as the line edges forward…painfully slowly; that panic sets in. The sausages are depleting rapidly and people appear to be piling their plates with those tasty little links of deliciousness. Oh for the love of… now someone just rejoined the line after already dishing up! Just to get more cocktail sausages… I start to grip my plastic knife tightly as the urge to kill rises.
I am now just out of arms reach of the cocktail sausages, just one more person… and then horror upon horror Mr Berkley asks to speak to me. That stupid little imp-man I swear that if I miss out on the only joy available on this stupid team day…
He takes me aside to ask me how I am enjoying the day so far at which point I am overcome with a great panic as I see the last two sausages staring at me from the plate. I am at a total loss of words as I way up the pro’s and con’s of plunging my plastic knife into Mr Berkley’s eye socket.
As he reaches to the plate of cocktail sausages and devours the penultimate one, I sigh and die a little inside. That’s it Mr Berkley, you just made “The List”.
Out the corner of my eye I watch as Doris takes the final sausage and… DROPS IT ON THE FLOOR! I die a little inside as I watch it roll under the table. I will look for it later, but mark my words Doris, you too are on “The List” you and your stupid cats!