No room at the Inn
Grrr to today, quite frankly. Hared off to work with a packed suitcase, The plan was for me to stay in a hotel so that I would be handy to leave for the North tomorrow for this latest bloody pitch.
It was only when I got to work I realised that I had left my wallet at home. Argh! For several moments I had to overcome desire to bang my head on the desk, or The Gnome. Working far too hard today. Feeling very stressed and suddenly got sharp stabbing chest pains over my heart. Turns out that I have pulled a muscle while swimming this week, but it gave me a nasty few minutes.
Took time out to meditate for half an hour at lunch and felt 100% better. The afternoon stretched well into the evening. Working with people who were actually completely incompetent at their jobs. Pitch moved into Pitch Hell phase when I found myself standing over people (while the rest of the agency was out enjoying a party) having to take every single decision myself for a web redesign for two hours. Unbelievable.
Finally I could leave, and was told that my colleagues had paid in advance for the hotel in Bloomsbury. And was given a reservation print out. I collected the portfolio of work I would be showing tomorrow and my bag and suitcase and headed into London. I assumed I knew where the hotel was, but managed to get lost walking in an area I know really well. Ran around the streets swearing under my breath like a madman, having a massive sense of humour failure until I finally found the hotel.
The hotel refused to let me stay. They demanded a credit card, which I explained I didn't have as my wallet was in Brighton -- which was why my work had paid in advance. The vacuous pair of planarian worms that pass for its reception desk staff would not accept the details phoned through as a payment however. Had humongous tantrum in lobby of the scum sucking Bloomsbury Thistle Hotel after failing to reach any of my colleagues (it being 10:30). Decided I had no option but to go back to Brighton. Arrived at Victoria just missing a train. And eventually arrived home having found a way to laugh about it at around midnight.
Whoo-hoo! Five hours sleep here we come.
Grrr to today, quite frankly. Hared off to work with a packed suitcase, The plan was for me to stay in a hotel so that I would be handy to leave for the North tomorrow for this latest bloody pitch.
It was only when I got to work I realised that I had left my wallet at home. Argh! For several moments I had to overcome desire to bang my head on the desk, or The Gnome. Working far too hard today. Feeling very stressed and suddenly got sharp stabbing chest pains over my heart. Turns out that I have pulled a muscle while swimming this week, but it gave me a nasty few minutes.
Took time out to meditate for half an hour at lunch and felt 100% better. The afternoon stretched well into the evening. Working with people who were actually completely incompetent at their jobs. Pitch moved into Pitch Hell phase when I found myself standing over people (while the rest of the agency was out enjoying a party) having to take every single decision myself for a web redesign for two hours. Unbelievable.
Finally I could leave, and was told that my colleagues had paid in advance for the hotel in Bloomsbury. And was given a reservation print out. I collected the portfolio of work I would be showing tomorrow and my bag and suitcase and headed into London. I assumed I knew where the hotel was, but managed to get lost walking in an area I know really well. Ran around the streets swearing under my breath like a madman, having a massive sense of humour failure until I finally found the hotel.
The hotel refused to let me stay. They demanded a credit card, which I explained I didn't have as my wallet was in Brighton -- which was why my work had paid in advance. The vacuous pair of planarian worms that pass for its reception desk staff would not accept the details phoned through as a payment however. Had humongous tantrum in lobby of the scum sucking Bloomsbury Thistle Hotel after failing to reach any of my colleagues (it being 10:30). Decided I had no option but to go back to Brighton. Arrived at Victoria just missing a train. And eventually arrived home having found a way to laugh about it at around midnight.
Whoo-hoo! Five hours sleep here we come.
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