Friday meeting

Friday, 4.02 PM
I get to the meeting room 5 minutes late, with my senior manager. It’s her fault we’re late.
The 8 men attending the meeting are all enthusiastic and smiling, they pump hands up and down when introductions are made, and do their best to look smart.
The truth is, each of them would like to kill everybody else in the room.

We sit down, the two parties facing each other. I can’t help noticing that:
- all of the men from the seller side wear violet ties, while those from the buyer side wear red ones;
- both side leaders are fat, bald, wear thick glasses and look 15 year older than their real age;
- from where I sit, I cannot reach water, candies or chocolate. No coffee in sight. This is gonna be bad;
- my head aches.

And then, the negotiation starts.

Friday, 6.00 PM
By this time, we have all understood that the original timing of one hour meeting was unrealistic.
Men have started loosening their ties, people yawn and the air is heavy.
There is no more water, and I still cannot reach candies and chocolate.
My head is getting worse.

Friday, 7.00 PM
My head aches BADLY. I don’t have any aspirin on me. How stupid of me.

Friday, 8.00 PM
By now, I’m convinced I have brain cancer.
The ties have disappeared, and the air stinks. I lost 12 phone calls, and both KS and the Sponsor want to know at what time I’ll be home. As if I knew it.

Friday, 8.30 PM
I don’t know what we’re talking about anymore. Most people in the meeting room fake listening while reading their emails on blackberries.
I’m picturing what my friends are doing right now, in this precise moment.
Polish Chick is partying in London.
KS is driving to get to my parents place, ignoring I might not make it home tonight.
A bunch of colleagues are having aperitivo at Armani’s
Is Thailand is 3.30AM, so Andrea the Hunter is probably banging some random chick whose name he doesn’t know (and doesn’t care to learn).
Nicola is on a cruise boat between Australia and New Zealand, sleeping (maybe. Or maybe drinking Jack Daniels).

Friday, 9.00 PM
Maybe it’s not brain cancer but aneurysm and I’ll die within the hour.
Anyway, 15 more minutes and I’ll lose the last train home. KS drove all the way there, he’s going to kill me if I don’t get there.
Shit.

Friday, 9.10 PM
Okay is this guy nuts or what? He just proposed another meeting at the same time for next Friday. Get a life, you dork.

Friday, 9.14 PM
It’s over. I still have 10 minutes to reach the Central Station (forget about the ticket) and jump on the last train. Run, DDgirl!!!