Unlike most of my work "colleagues" (I love the common aim that implies... like the fuckers don't regularly shit on our best ideas) I don't hate Mondays. They're a novelty after the weekend, especially if you've just had as dull a weekend as I have. I tend to get a bit more done on Mondays too, which is nice. I've spent the better part of today writing our little office's annual report, to be presented to the Governing Body in what will be a brave attempt to justify our existence. It's nice, seeing your year's achievements laid out in print. It's worrying that it only stretches to 10 pages (and that's the bilingual version).
Fuck.
I'd like to beef it up with fancy descriptions of the events we've hosted (yes, that's the "work" I do) but most of them descend into pleidhcíocht at an early stage. And while some have been wild successes, others have been horrifying flops. I'm still the only person I know who's been stood up on a speed-dating night. Serves me right, I suppose. Who the hell would want to go speed-dating? 20 forced conversations with 20 people you wouldn't normally choose to be in the same room with, never mind actually speak to. Ick. I did it once and have never done so much work for so little reward. It should have been a lesson learned. What was I thinking hosting the kind of lame set-up night I didn't enjoy for students, who are more than capable of riding rings around themselves?
So I won't mention that in the report.
The success stories are worse though. I think I'll play it safe, and emphasise all of the publications we've translated into Irish, in between parties. Nobody's likely to read 'em anyway, right?
Roll on Tuesday!
Fuck.
I'd like to beef it up with fancy descriptions of the events we've hosted (yes, that's the "work" I do) but most of them descend into pleidhcíocht at an early stage. And while some have been wild successes, others have been horrifying flops. I'm still the only person I know who's been stood up on a speed-dating night. Serves me right, I suppose. Who the hell would want to go speed-dating? 20 forced conversations with 20 people you wouldn't normally choose to be in the same room with, never mind actually speak to. Ick. I did it once and have never done so much work for so little reward. It should have been a lesson learned. What was I thinking hosting the kind of lame set-up night I didn't enjoy for students, who are more than capable of riding rings around themselves?
So I won't mention that in the report.
The success stories are worse though. I think I'll play it safe, and emphasise all of the publications we've translated into Irish, in between parties. Nobody's likely to read 'em anyway, right?
Roll on Tuesday!
