Live electricity with water and juggling with sharp sabres while riding a Penny Farthing bicycle, uphill on a cobbled street (I live in Edinburgh, they do these kind of things), are just two things which I believe should never be mixed. Recent experience leads me to suggest another, that of football and business meetings. I expect you will wonder why I come to this conclusion. Well, l will tell you.
I was at the midweek match last week and was not in my normal seat. The space I occupied was in a different stand and located at the back of the proletarian rows, directly in front of the executive padded and heated seating. You know, the ones inhabited by the bourgeoisie, proudly displaying their lanyards, granting them the exclusive privilege of access to the executive lounges, pre-match bar, coffee or tea, match programme and perhaps, most importantly, not having to wait in a long queue for the utility toilet facilities in the 'standard' areas.
I arrived just as the match was starting and, having dispensed with the customary nods and grunts of introduction, settled down in the seat. It was at that point it all started. Two booming voices began assaulting my eardrums from behind. The first voice, probably the loudest and perhaps because of its 'otherness' (it was a London accent) was the most grating. The other was an upmarket localised business type.
As the game progressed, the conversation which was now well and truly 'in my head', took flight. It started off as a bit of light verbal sparring, both protagonists setting out their credentials in a warming up routine. London stating he had friends who had, unlike him, not done so well, however mates are mates sort of thing, as if to underline his sense of loyalty which he could bring to the party. For he was, no doubt, the seller. Local chap, the buyer, cannily let the other speak without too much interruption. It then moved up a gear as they both set out their pitches. It was at that point that I pulled out my Business Bingo card and marked off a full house. There was 'passionate', 'partnering', 'bringing added value', 'interoperability', and 'gain share', among many other clichés. Even worse though, the subject matter they were discussing was a bit interesting. Just as well the first half was dull.
You know the expression that 'a problem shared is a problem halved'? Well, in a closely regulated experiment, I have disproved that theory. When I mentioned the proceedings taking place behind us to the guy sitting next to me, he tapped my arm five minutes later saying he was now caught up in the conversation. We agreed, however, that it was time to leave if they started talking about cars. The half-time whistle brought a lull in the proceedings as the 'loungers' headed off to their half time refreshments. Some kind lounge types did bring pies out and offered them among us non-exec types, which just proves, does it not, that trickle-down does work.
Our hopes were raised when the negotiation team did not appear for second half kick-off, however, this proved a false promise as they duly took their seats a few minutes in. The deal must have either been signed or declined as very little conversation was forthcoming in the second half and we were left unencumbered to enjoy the game.
The motto of the story then: I need to balance this chip on my shoulder, perhaps by using the one on the other shoulder?
Frank Eardley
If you would like to contribute to the Cafe, please email your comments to islay@scottishreview.net
