Matters sartorial now shipshape we proceeded to the business of buccanerial discord. As part of a results-driven hardball programme to get our ducks in a row, the crew was broken into numerous focus groups. Over a moveable feast of low-hanging fruit we then netted out our goalposts while the Admiral kept his balls in the air. Finally, having strategically fit our ticks in the blue-sky boxes, we were ready to put our game plan to bed and concentrate on actioning our no-brainers and fast-tracking our big-ticket items.
Naturally, before we could discuss the lessons learned, we needed someone to benchmark our metrics. Key to this process was Mr Sad, a fellow of infinite gloom whose dejected aura caused the ambience such injury as to make an undertakers’ convention a more likely source of merriment.
With our notes and a heavy sigh, he retired to his murky corner, the sole ornament of which was a faded print of notable storms. Like broken convicts en route to the Gulag we attended our fate in mute anticipation.
Only when our hearts were fit to explode did he finally decide our fate and, in his hushed tones, solemnly deliver his decision: “Your team dynamic, sir, is OK”.
Naturally, before we could discuss the lessons learned, we needed someone to benchmark our metrics. Key to this process was Mr Sad, a fellow of infinite gloom whose dejected aura caused the ambience such injury as to make an undertakers’ convention a more likely source of merriment.
With our notes and a heavy sigh, he retired to his murky corner, the sole ornament of which was a faded print of notable storms. Like broken convicts en route to the Gulag we attended our fate in mute anticipation.
Only when our hearts were fit to explode did he finally decide our fate and, in his hushed tones, solemnly deliver his decision: “Your team dynamic, sir, is OK”.
Grand Inquisitor
Larry Sad
Likes: nothing
Dislikes: everything
No comments:
Post a Comment