Tabula Rasa

The Meeting Place

There are some events which are so mortifying when it is happen-ing and yet so hysterically funny looking back.  One such incident is my setting up a high powered meeting with who's who in the workplace via Outlook. 

We have a snazzy system whereby a meeting place id is picked automatically when you select 'choose a meeting id' and *the number* is then shown on the location field in the meeting invite. Errors do happen, especially when you're in a hurry and hitting the enter key rather manically, i.e all the time. When this happens, the system picks up the last meeting location you selected and then slots it in for the event/meeting you are sending out.

And so this how I came to receive a call from a male colleague who hummed and haahed before asking me whether it really is the case that the discussion he and 10 other meeting participants  (invariably male) were to attend to in 5 minutes were located in the nursing room* on Level 3.

_________

* in my workplace, you have to book the nursing room via Outlook using the meeting invite.

Challenge

The challenge is how to eat a banana leaf full of rice without spilling any gravy on the white suit. 

How does one manage to climb that corporate ladder without compromising on being mum to a adventurous toddler and supportive partner to spouse; to squeeze in enough 'me' time to read thought provoking/witty books and skim through fashion and gossip mag Grazia; to catch up with old and new mates; to get some exercise in, to travel the world as well as explore the local scene, AND get enough sleep.

Soon come Wolfie. Soon come.