I never enjoyed working, and nowadays I shy away from anything that could be construed as work. I am therefore disappointed to report that I spent this morning in what can only be described as a committee meeting.
I survived my working days in employment by hiding in my office, drinking murky brown liquid and sending out the occasional controversial e-mail that hinted that I was operating on the bleeding edge of the oil industry, even though I wasn’t really bleeding working at all. This pleasantly relaxed environment was punctured by the need to attend regular meetings, the price to be paid for the continuing receipt of a monthly salary. These were designated “committee meetings”, indicating that so many people would be attending that any decisions taken would be sufficiently compromised to ensure that no real progress would be made and nobody could be blamed for anything.
Worst was a weekly meeting of what was rather optimistically termed “the management team.” None of us were particularly adept at managing anything, and at any one time there was open war between at least four members. For three wasted hours a week I would keep my eyes partially open through a series of drab presentations, dropping in the occasional pithy comment to prove how in touch I was with the business. I positioned myself at the far end of the conference table and played bluetooth battleships with the drilling manager, until he spoiled things by shouting “sunk you, you bastard”, a comment which it was obviously not related to the production forecast presentation in progress at the other end of the room. I was then reduced to writing saucy SMS messages to assorted ladies on my PDA. These messages were then zapped, rather appropriately, across my lap into my trouser pocket where my phone transmitted them to my special friends.
More bearable was the Health and Safety meeting. Firstly, it only had to be endured once a month. Secondly, it was worth attending to hear the report from the company doctor. His name was Doctor Vimol, but to maintain his anonymity I will refer to him only as Dr. V. He was convinced that every employee was a drug taking, fornicating alcoholic (he was not far wrong); and he set out to prove his theories by implementing a series of stringent random tests. His monthly reports focussed on the miscreants that had dragged down our health statistics by taking a day off for such minor ailments as a broken leg. When an employee was sadly tested as HIV positive, he found it hard to conceal his glee. And the management team were not immune to his investigations. He arrived at my office one morning with a suspicious pot in his hand. I was to pee in it and he was going to make sure I did not substitute another pot of pee in the process. I was followed into the toilet and he was most disgruntled that I would not let him into the stall to watch the pee into pot operation. I believe I tested positive for disillusionment.
Fast forward to this morning, and I find myself sat in a weekly committee meeting again. This time it is to manage our condo. I attended the AGM last year and, through no fault of my own, I found myself dumped onto the committee. There are nine of us. Five are Thais who live in Bangkok and visit on occasional weekends, four are non-Thai and we live in the condo; so the Thais happily delegate most of the work to us.
Our leader is American and has an interesting past involving CIA missions. His first visit to Thailand involving springing someone from a Thai jail! Then there is a Brit who “invented the hard drive” and is clearly loaded. Finally, another American who rides around on an old bike, wears knock-off T-shirts and is clearly not loaded at all. It came as some surprise therefore to discover he comes from a family that owns a massive chain of chemists. He recently flew off to a university in California to attend a major exhibition of renaissance art. When we asked him why he was going, he informed us that he owned the art. Oh.
Anyway, they are a pleasant bunch of people; but I resent spending my morning in a meeting with them, or anyone else. But there is much to do. We have recently thrown out our incompetent management contractor and have discovered a long list of things that don’t work that should. Most of the staff for a start. And the fire alarm system which wouldn’t ring even if you lit a fire under it. The waste water treatment system, which is meant to render our waste water harmless before discharging it into the public sewer; doesn’t. And many pages more of defective stuff that needs fixing. Sigh. So every week we sit and discuss how little progress has been made, beat up our new management contractor and vow to do better next week. Sometimes I am so bored I almost wish that Dr. V. would burst in and demand urine samples from all present.