Monthly Archives: December 2015

PISSED ON THE PISTES

I did my fair share of alpine skiing in my younger years, especially when I was living in France. My first honeymoon, as I have had the luxury of having two (so far), was in Chamonix, where I took pretty intensive lessons, which is always a very good idea for a beginner.

This set a sound basis for my forthcoming years of skiing, enabling me to improve relatively quickly. In later years when I was living in Nice, it was only a couple of hours drive to the closest resorts, which made it even easier.

So I progressed nicely from green to blue to red and was also starting slowly to tackle the odd black slope once in a while. No mean feat, especially in France where the level of their pistes is known to be rather difficult.

So all in all I was rather pleased with myself and gaining in confidence as time went by. All until one day a few of my friends asked me if I wanted to join them for a skiing weekend in Meribel/Val Thorens. And why the hell not, I figured. A few days with the lads should be fun for a change.

They asked me briefly how well I skied and I told them quite confidently that I was pretty good, which was not an exaggeration by most standards. However, as the saying aptly goes, everything in life is relative… as I was soon enough going to find out, the hard way.

We all made our way there, a couple of us from Nice, one from Marseille and some from the Lyon area and it came as no surprise that we spent that first evening partying hard until the very early hours of the morning. I distinctly remember that only a couple of hours later, when we had to meet for breakfast, my tongue and lips were still bright red from the gallons of vin chaud I had consumed during much of the night, and the only bit of rinsing they had received was from the dozen or so fiery eau de vie, which knocked me out flat.

Breakfast was painful, very painful. But not half as painful as putting on the tons of gear, trudging laboriously to the ski lifts and making our way up to the top of the frigging world. This happens to be quite literally the world’s largest ski resort with over 600 kilometers of trails, served by 170 lifts and joining Courchevel, Meribel, Val Thorens and four other stations together into a mega resort like no other, called Les Trois Vaallees.

So we took lift after lift and we went higher and higher, until we were close to the mountain tops themselves. All of this physical exertion, the bitter cold and the relatively thin oxygen, sent both my head and my stomach spinning, as I regurgitated disgusting burning residues of red wine and white spirits. What I desperately needed was a nice comfortable bed and another eight to ten hours sleep rather than attempting to beat some world skiing record, that morning.

But what was done was done and I strongly hoped that the exercise and the fresh air would eventually clear up my throbbing hangover. What I found a bit strange however, was that as we arrived at the top of the world, at the end of the final and highest ski lift, my mates didn’t head down the harsh black slope that started its torturous way down from there, but they headed in the opposite direction, down a steep and very dangerous narrow ledge, beneath which was quite literally a near vertical cliff, falling precipitously several hundreds of metres below.

As I shuffled carefully along behind them, trying to hug the mountainside on the opposite side of the narrow ledge, to my intense and terrifying horror, all my friends suddenly started popping over the edge one by one and shooting down the vertical face like bullets! No, no, no, no, NO! I thought! This isn’t skiing, this is absolute madness. It was exactly what you would watch on TV in some extreme sports type of programme. And they were not even trying to slalom carefully down from side to side, they quite simply couched forward on their skis and headed straight down forward, dodging rocky outcrops and totally vertical falls, as they raced down at lightening speed.

Within seconds they were all the bottom of the immense drop and making their way along some gentler slopes, before disappearing again over another edge, much further down. It was more then obvious that these guys were totally ignoring the marked trails and just doing it their way totally hors piste and searching for near vertical drops and other madness, just for thrills. A couple beckoned me to follow them down, as they too then vanished over a much lower ledge.

The rule we had set was that we would always wait for each other at the bottom of the slopes, until we all regrouped, before moving on to new ones. With this in mind, with the great difficulty to make my way up the steep narrow path to the top of the lift, and even to manage to turn around in such a tight spot, and also because I would lose these guys for the rest of the day – this being well before the time of mobile phones, it really seemed that I had no other choice than to follow them down their chosen cliffs.

Fear, dread and terror are words which do not even begin to describe my feelings as I went over that edge. I however kept my skis parallel to the slope, leaning sideways towards the mountain, desperately trying not to tumble all the way down, and began the extremely tough and tortuous descent, as slowly and and carefully as I could.

Because of the immense gradient, I had to literally spring up into the air and twirl myself around in the opposite direction, every time I had to turn, otherwise I would instantly shoot down to the bottom, the way by long-gone buddies had done, but in my case not at all out of choice.

It was truly exhausting, painstaking and very slow work, as I laboriously wound my way gradually down the first face. By then already, my legs were shaking uncontrollably from total fatigue. But after the small comfortable slope at the bottom, there was another cliff, and then another and yet another… and no trails anywhere in sight, all the way down.

I was so totally spent by the end of it that I literally didn’t have the strength to stand any more and I descended the last few slopes sliding down on my backside. I was simply unable to stand up.

When I slid down the final few metres, onto a large flat area at the bottom of the slopes, where hundreds of skiers were commuting in one direction or another, I was the embodiment of shame and humiliation. Everyone looked at me with scorn and disgust, as they steered well clear of my broken body, in case anyone around would wrongly assume that they were with me.

I was cold, wet, shivering and dangerously exhausted. My lovely helpful and compassionate friends were nowhere in sight. As I lay there, panting in the melting, filthy sludge of a thousand skis, one of my mates gingerly comes forward from amongst the crowd, desperately hoping that nobody recognises him.

He looked down at me with a look of utter disgust and said “And you told us that you could ski! Pfff” and walked away, coldly informing me that they would see me at the hotel that evening.

I struggled hard to stand up and to make my way to the bus which would take me back to the hotel. Every step was immensely painful and I must have tripped and fell on my face at least three times, as all the skiing fashionistas made huge detours around my failing body.

I spent the rest of the day in bed trying to recover and finally summoned enough courage to go down to the bar and face my friends. As they say, attack is the best form of defence, so I thought I would play it in this direction. I gave them all a big piece of my mind and called them every French expletive and obscenity I knew, which I can assure you was exceedingly prolific.

So they all had a chuckle and a laugh and when I was finally done, they then explained how they were all ski instructors except for one, the one who had won a gold medal as the best skier in Savoie, and he was considered as the weakest one of them all.

NOW YOU TELL ME!

DECEMBER GROUP FUNCTIONS

Here is a quick rundown of a few of the more notable venues where I attended group meals and parties this December so far. More to come…

TERRONE, Marsaxlokk

I have had the occasion of dining there on an a la carte basis many a time and have really never been disappointed. This restaurant offers an original and refined take on Italian cuisine, miles above your average trattoria. This was a semi-set menu for about 25 of us, starting off with a selection of Italian style starters to share, then individually plated main courses which each one of us selected from a restricted choice. The quality of the food throughout was identical to our previous a la carte small table experiences, which in theory should always be the case, but in practice in many restaurants, often isn’t. Here it was exactly the same – exceptionally good. From a service point of view, our table was assigned two dedicated and talented servers who were with us all the time and served us to perfection. A large table needs attention and having its own dedicated staff is always a great idea.

CAFE JUBILEE, Gzira

We chose this place for its great pubbish ambiance and party atmosphere. There were nearly 20 of us there and we wanted a venue which would only reserve the space for us without pre-booking anything else. This was just a get-together where we wanted everyone to do their own thing and decide and pay for what they wanted to consume there and then. Not an easy task at all, as most places would tie you down to a minimum spend in one form or another, either in food or beverages items. But Cafe Jubililee were kind and obliging enough to accommodate our request, and it all turned out perfectly well. Everyone ordered their own drinks and most also selected a plate or two from their extensive menu, with everyone paying for themselves as we went along. The establishment was also kind enough to provide us with various complimentary nibbles out of their own accord. This is the perfect party place which also enjoys an excellent central location.

MUNCHIES, Mellieha Bay

Being a Sunday lunch, the place was absolutely packed and heaving with people. Although there were only 12 of us, I am still considering this as quite a large table. We went for normal a la carte and all had full meals from their regular and speciality menus. I personally chose both starter and main from the specials menu, consisting of chowder soup and duo of rabbit. Both were very good as were every single starter and main served at our table. In spite of them being absolutely full with all types of tables and functions, the service was impeccable. It is obvious that there is a very effective and multi-leveled hierarchy managing this place in a very professional manner. This has become one of our all time favourite eateries this Winter, and along with their outstanding location they will surely be seeing us many times over the coming months. Ian was also gracious enough to offer us coffees and drinks on the house! How can we not return?

BACCHUS, Mdina

What a marvellous facility this is for group functions. Firstly being in Mdina adds so much charm, although admittedly parking has become a nightmare and the greedy wardens are having a field day, not with those who park dangerously or obstructively, but with anyone who doesn’t abide perfectly to their illogical, ill-thought ground markings! The restaurant is housed within the actual bastion walls, giving it tremendous historic and aesthetic value. It also has enormous capacity and a number of varied areas which can be used differently by groups. This was a standing reception, followed by a pre-ordered set menu for about 50 guests. We started off with drinks and canapes outside, right on the bastions, which was lovely and refreshing, rather than spending all our time inside. We were then seated indoors for our set menu, which in my case at least, consisted of beef carpaccio and braised shin of beef. I thoroughly enjoyed both dishes, which were tasty and well prepared. Admittedly there was a small mixup with my requested diabetic desert, but this was immediately sorted, showing goodwill and care from all sides. Service was swift, efficient and friendly, in spite of the size of our group, as well as many other tables there at the time. The only pity was that very exceptionally Mario was not there, so I had to purchase my own drinks at the end, rather than bumming them off him!

CONCLUSION

I believe that the main point to take away from the above, is that a professionally run restaurant can always get it right, no matter how busy and how full they are and no matter how large your group. Only too often we make large concessions in our mind to excuse mediocre food and bad service, simply because the venue is busy. Quality should not suffer based on quantity, it is all a matter of proper organisation, as may be perfectly seen from the above experiences.

LES PAGES JAUNES – Part 1

For much of the time I was living in France, back in the ’80’s and early ’90’s, I was self-employed. Until I moved to Nice, where I met and befriended a bloke who worked for the French Yellow Pages. He was in management and found my outspoken, bold and quirky attitude intriguing, thinking that they could use loud, cocky people like me.
 
This was then the company which employed by far the largest sales force in France, with over 2,500 sales executives. They were therefore extremely efficient, had systems and procedures, methods and training all worked down to a perfect science, and it was overall a great experience for me, while it lasted.
 
In reality, for much of the time I was working with them, sales reps were not employed per se, but were also engaged as self-employed freelancers, instilling in us a rather cavalier and cowboy attitude to our job. A sale was a sale was a sale and we literally stopped at nothing to make one, and I mean nothing! It was also a constant competition between us who would pull off the craziest stunt of all, which we all bragged about, until the next lunatic came up with something wilder and more entertaining, an environment in which, I must admit, I seem to thrive and also excel.
 
So it all started in one of their major recruitment drives in Nice, followed by training in Paris, to where I had to travel on my own expense on three different occasions. Just for comparison’s sake, this is the exact same distance between Malta and Rome. It was therefore like being told by your boss that Monday to Thursday you are to report to the office in say Msida, then every Friday you must make your way for training to the head office in Rome.
 
But you simply have to adapt to every situation. I remember that just before I got this job I had applied for a sales manager’s job in a large fruit processing company, which was based in a tiny village between Aix-en-Provence and Avignon. This was over 250 kilometers away and close to a three hour drive, depending on traffic. So I am selected for an interview and gladly drive the considerable distance. I get there and I am given an in-depth presentation on the company, its history, what they do, their mission and vision, a detailed look at all their products, as well as a grand tour of their massive plant, only to be told that next time I attend we will speak about the job.
 
So I return home exhausted and await for their instructions. The week after I am asked over for the second interview. We talk about the position and what is expected out of me, about markets and targets and responsibilities. I thought that I hadn’t done too badly and at the end of the three and a half hour interview with three stark men and an even sterner woman, I await in anticipation for an indication of whether I got the job or not. However I was simply informed that I would hear from them within ten days.
 
Exactly ten days later, I receive a letter from them asking me to attend a third interview, this time with their corporate psychologist, for character profiling, and naturally I thought what on earth…??? So off I go again and met this weirder than weird tiny, rat-looking guy, who visibly did his very best to scrutinise my every move, my body language, the way I stood and walked, what I had dressed and very importantly, my handwriting. He asked all these very obvious key questions about my personality, noting everything down on a little notebook with barely audible ‘mmmh’s’ at each of my replies. I just fixated on one thing and programmed my mind to think that I didn’t give a rat’s ass about this job and that this guy was a massive idiot and that I couldn’t give a flying toss on what his final analysis would be.
 
I am sent back home to wait for my life’s biggest moment. Mr. Ratsass’ analysis of my character. I had to sign a form of disclaimer for this to be done, and could even have opted not to do it, however the fineprint had also indicated in so many words that although I had every right in doing so, the Company equally had the right of disqualifying anyone who did! Now how obvious was that statement! Employment regulations then also stated, that companies conducting such character profiling, had to send a full and detailed report to the applicant on the psychologist’s findings.
 
So when mine arrived I was rather intrigued to see to what extent I had truly lost it. When I read it I remember laughing my head off, as my self-induced conditioning had worked wonders. It basically said that I was a super-confident, bold and relaxed individual, who might however show traits of indifference. It also said that if channeled properly, my traits could lead to great success, but if allowed to run wild and unchecked, they could result in mayhem and uncontrolled confusion. I found this most amusing… perhaps Ratty wasn’t so batty after all!
 
I get chosen for a fourth interview, yes fourth! And let us not forget that every time this involved a six hour return journey and an average of three hours meeting each time. We chat and we chat, then we chat a bit more. I met the HR Manager, the Administration Manager, the Production Manager, the Sales Director, the Managing Director, the Director of Rapidly Dwindling Patience, the Manager of Becoming So Edgy That I’m About To Explode and most of their three thousand employees. I distinctly remember taking slow deep breaths and trying to emulate the cool and composed state I had achieved with Mousy. All until my then four or five simultaneous interviewers stood up, approached me with stretched arms awaiting a courteous handshake, and one of them said “We are very pleased to inform you that you have now been shortlisted to our final six candidates selection. So you will now be able to commence the final recruitment process and attend the main interviewS with us.”
 
I just totally and utterly lost it. It really wasn’t a pretty sight and not one which I am particularly proud of. I was flashing bright colours of red and purple like a crazed disco ball. I spitted and spluttered and stammered and stuttered, making very little sense, until I finally managed to get out a few straight words which included “you are fucking crazy”, “just go to hell”, “stuff your disgusting fruit products up your ass”, “I don’t ever want to work with you morons” and similar niceties, as usually expected during job interviews.
 
Needless to say I just left them there in a tremendous state of shock, jaws bouncing off the floor, turned around, and rushed out through the door shaking, and drove home swearing and screaming like a raving lunatic, on my own in the car all the way home.
 
Believe it or not they actually took the trouble of writing to me! This is how seriously they took their whole palaver – to unbelievable levels. They went as far as informing me that they had dropped my application. which was not exactly a surprise now was it! But they also explained that they were totally amiss as to how this happened and how their shrink had not been able to sense it and warn them about it. I bet a million francs that Ratsass must have got the sack, all because of me.
 
But back to the Yellow Pages!
 
Having received my running-in, so to speak, in being compelled to journey ridiculous distances for work, although Paris was infinitely more distant, this was at least after I got the job. This time at least I was successfully recruited in Nice, where I lived, which was very convenient. My mate told me that they loved eccentric characters and showoffs, as these invariably proved to be the best in sales. So I took it to an entirely different level and walked in along with a few dozen other applicants into their presentation hall, wearing a smart but daring yellow suit, topped with a cowboy hat.
 
I admit that I looked like a frigging maniac but I got the job, which is what counts!
 
After a short presentation by the Regional Sales Director, each of the six sales managers chose the reps who caught their fancy to be part of their own team. The amusing thing is that three of them wouldn’t touch me, considering me totally bananas, while the other three literally fought over me, making me feel rather special…
 
The following week they held a special dinner along with all the new recruits, and as is the story of my life, I was sort of expected to yet again impress in some way or another, especially after my John Wayne debut. So I remember that back then virtually nobody knew anything about Malta, and I was constantly bombarded by an annoying barrage of senseless questions, even during the meal, to the tune of whether there were cars and telephones and electricity in Malta, and other similar hogwash.
 
So as I had started eating my salad starter, the person sitting in front of me suddenly yelled at me “Oh Yuck careful, there’s a large maggot in your lettuce!” Sure enough, a rather well endowed maggot was slowly sliding along my plate. Fuelled by the many glasses of wine I had already drunk, and naturally by my prankster character, I looked up and made sure I caught everyone’s attention by shouting “Oh look a maggot, Yummy!” and proceeded to stab it with my fork, toss it into my mouth, totally dissimulate my disgust, especially with the many eyes of my amazed audience fixed upon me and solemnly announced “Hmmm maggots, our favourite food in Malta!”.
 
I only told them a couple of days later, after having heard them all repeat for hundreds of times their incredulous phrase “Mon dieu, c’est incroyable, ils mangent des asticots à Malte!”.

CHRISTMAS QUICKIE

Christmastime evokes vastly ranging feelings for different people. Some have retained and sustained the magic they experienced as children, many have become uncaring and unconcerned, while others dislike the added work, worries and hassles involved. There are also a number of people who have come to loath it and everything it represents.

We all have our own personal thoughts and perspectives and our subjective sensibilities. It makes little sense trying to impose your own on others. We all associate the things around us with different factors and experiences in our own past.

I think that no matter how you feel and where you stand in your appreciation of Christmastime, you can always grasp the opportunity to reflect on the past calendar year, on the new one about to start, and about your life in general.

Life should be all about improving yourself in as many ways as possible. About acceding to a better life and to finding greater peace and happiness within yourself.

I like to find a few quiet moments to think about what I did well and what I could have done better. Then to ponder on how I can succeed in achieving more of my goals in the coming year.

This should be a constant process for as long as you live, a conscious effort for greater accomplishment and fulfillment, both in material and in spiritual terms.

Make yourself a better person – for others, but most of all for yourself.

THE WIND

It starts as a rising breeze. Pleasant and teasing at first, the harbinger of change and reinvention. Flattering your skin with endless caress and flirtation, promises of muse and inspiration.

Then slowly it grows. It fills in its own unrestrained impetuousness, unchecked by the landscape, unscathed by the hills. It is amplified by the slopes and the valleys, funnelled by the shapes and the contours of the land, and encouraged by the flat expanse of the sea.

Then it maddens, it waves and it twists, it whistles and it blows, fiercely and tumultuously, uncaring of the damage it may wreak in its wake. It pushes and it shoves, savagely bullying everything in its path.

With each howling gust of unashamed power, it raises debris and dust, swirling towering clouds of uprooted litter, mercilessly spewed all around.

It paints vague horizons, whipping up water, erasing distinction between sea and overlying sky. It greys out the blues, effectively merging them to its careless delight.

And on land it sets everything in motion, nothing sits still. It combs through forests and kicks hard at the sands. It rushes around rocky outcrops, playing its high pitched songs. It sets mast cables on yachts viciously vibrating, frantically ticking in anticipation of quieter conditions. It screams furious V sounds on electric wiring and bends branches and trees in its chosen direction.

But no matter how strong, no matter it’s fury, it will eventually calm, it will soon blow itself out. After all its huffing and puffing it will always tire, until slowly, very gradually, almost imperceptibly, perfect silence and complete calm is restored.

MICHEL GASPARINI

His name was Michel Gasparini. Quite an unremarkable man. Short, overwieght and slightly balding. Very unassuming and with absoloutley no pretence, or claim to fame. Single and a bit of a loner, this was a rather unspectacular man.

I met him in the Western suburbs of Paris in 1986, when he was a direct colleague of my French ex-wife. We never got too close or personal, and I couldn’t have met him more than half a dozen times. But in spite of all of this and the thirty years which have since elapsed, I still remember him distinctly and for good reason.

It must have been on the first occasion that we met, at one of my wife’s work functions, that I was listening in on a conversation between him and some of his mates. It was the normal expected chitchat, talk about their work and other mundane matters. Then suddenly one of them touched what seemed to be a rather hot topic, about rumours that their company might be laying off some workers the following year.

The tone instinctively harshened and people aired their concerns. They all talked of their financial commitments, about the reluctance and difficulty of looking for a new job. All of them revealed a certain uneasiness and anticipation, to see if and when such hearsay was in any way founded.

I was keeping my distance, as the matter did not directly concern me. But as I watched and observed, I noticed that while all of them had visibly been absorbed by this new turn in the conversation, Gasparini had kept the same smile and nonchalant look. He put in the odd word here and there not to be totally left out, but he certainly aired no concern.

Then my wife turned up and joined in the conversation. But I soon asked her why Gasarini seemed so detached and she laughed out in front of the others “Haha my husband asked why Gasparini isn’t worried about getting the sack”. They all laughed and giggled and by general consensus I was informed by all that Gasparini never gave a hoot about anything and that he had a totally relaxed approach to life.

I found this rather intriguing and at the first opportunity I grabbed a quick tete a tete with this unique chap. In so many words he chuckled away with me that he had managed to train himself to take everything with a massive pinch of salt and that he simply refused to worry or get upset about anything.

I initially thought that this might be fun party talk, or just generalisations on his part. However as several of the others joined in next to us, stories of court cases, divorce, health problems, his house catching fire, being falsely accused of theft and being arrested, attempts at being humiliated in front of his colleagues by his boss, and other substantially alarming stuff, was revealed about him. Not to incriminate him in any way, but simply to clearly and unequivocally demonstrate that nothing could ever perturb him. And sure enough, at each of these personal disasters, he laughed and he cracked a joke, and he recounted how merry his was at the time, to the great puzzlement of judges, lawyers, police, insurance surveyors, and all others around.

On the few other occasions I met this man, I always brought up the subject, which in no manner bothered him. On the contrary, he always found new fascinating stories, which would for others translate in a mini nightmare, but which for him were clearly the occasion for a joke and a laugh, both during and after the otherwise harassing experience.

His philosophy was simple, and one known to all, and repeated by many, but truly practiced by very few. It is totally futile to worry and get upset, in fact it only made matters worse. So good old Gasparini had somehow managed to totally disconnect himself from these negative feelings and was literally a very happy man.

As may be seen I have never forgotten this unusual man whom I have always held in great admiration. I cannot say that it has always been my main ambition in life to emulate him, and neither can I say that I did not gain directly from his inspiration.

Our past experiences and the people we meet in the long journey of life, all have some form of impact on our psyche and our behaviour, and it goes without saying that some affect us more than others.

Today I am proud to have finally made it into the Gasparini world of total zen and bliss.

It was obviously a long and slow process, made up of countless little stages in my life. The recent passing away of both my parents contributed to my present attitude, as did my following decision to slow down my work and take more time to enjoy life.

In fact it was a very recent and nearly sudden realisation, that I had finally achieved this elated state.

I can honestly say that now absolutely nothing worries me, I remain unruffled and composed no matter the situation. I simply cannot be troubled or harassed. And above all I have no issues with anyone or with anything, anymore. I have worked out all my issues without exception, and although I obviously have likes and dislikes and preferences, I am totally cool with everything.

Not one person truly upsets, I simply give more attention to some rather than to others. In fact I must admit that those who place themselves as my adversaries tend to amuse me, more than anything else. And what entertains me most is their seriousness and the gravity they give to such situations.

As for all the world’s issues and troubles and tribulations, yes I am very aware of them all. I know that there is suffering and pain and injustice, but my consciousness and knowledge is never transferred into anger or frustration. People’s ignorance and abuse will generate scorn and disdain, but no emotional and passionate behaviour. If people are crass and uncouth and politically incorrect, it does nothing to me more than a chuckle and perhaps a snide remark.

I have however, not only managed to retain my passion and fervour towards life, but also to greatly intensify it. In the process of desensitising myself from the negative, the anger and the frustration, I have simultaneously succeeded in shifting this emotion and sentiment to all that is positive and joyful.

I feel more, I am far more sensitive, I love stronger and I laugh harder and much more frequently. My passion for life has greatly increased, for all that is good and fun and beautiful.

It might sound strange, but I must admit that I am a perfectly happy person.

I care about everything, yet I don’t care too much. I live and let live more than anyone else. I cannot be provoked or angered, simply because I easily rise above it.

I no longer follow the quest for happiness, as I can honestly say that I have fully found it!

THE FRUIT OF LOVE

It lays there in perfect peace and unperturbed harmony. The embodiment of innocence and purity. The fruit of love.

Two people get together for moments of intimacy and passion. Mindless pleasure or purposeful procreation. Physical enjoyment inflamed by lust and sometimes heightened by distant hopes of propagation.

Waves of thoughts and sensations, rushing through loins and minds. Stark images of the erotic, flashes from the past. And then with a sudden tightening, constricting of muscles and veins, furtive and fleeting instants of intense pleasure, until reality slowly creeps back in.

And the miracle has happened. A new life is created. From nothing comes everything. From the improbable and the seemingly absurd comes all.

For nine months the mother’s breath gently oxygenates it, her food sustains it, her love and thoughts nurture it. It grows and it waits. It moves and it kicks, until it is time.

Tiny, weak, miniature, dependant and fragile. So fragile that its beauty is amplified and encapsulated in its absolute vulnerability, leading to the defence and fierce safeguarding by all.

It sleeps, oblivious of its surroundings, dreaming of things to come, uncaring and unawaiting, safely far from any reality, unattached and unthoughtful of any preoccupation.

It twists and it turns without purpose. Its little arms punch away aimlessly in the air and its tiny fingered hands grasp at imaginary mummies and daddies, while it instinctively mimics sucking motions and noises in its sleep.

A perfectly formed individual, with fine wisps of hair, a little pot belly, chubby knees and elbows and a cute button-shaped nose. The tiniest toes and fingers with barely visible but fast growing nails. A nicely rounded bottom and perfectly shaped genitals firmly placing it as little boy or little girl.

It depends entirely on its parents for its survival. Yet it survives. It even thrives.

Until slowly, after years of constant unabating care and attention, with not one small instant of unsupervised heed, it very slowly acquires recognition of its surroundings. The dawn, the awakening, the realisation of self.

We look down at our sleeping babies and cannot help think that they are us and we are them, forever one, forever together, but forever separated by time.

VETTING CONTACTS & PROSPECTIVE EMPLOYEES

SYNOPSIS IN POINT FORM

• Seeking recommendation is vital when dealing with new contacts
• A person’s past is a very good indicator of their expected future behaviour
• Background checks are easy to make as an effective means of checking up on people
• If several reports are firmly negative then stay away
• No honest person should be upset to find out that they are being checked upon
• Ask as many people as you can about them
• You may also check them out well on Facebook and other social media
• Try to find common friends and contacts to speak to
• The same principles apply when recruiting – never take anyone’s word for it
• Make sure that certain jobs & professional experiences have not been purposely omitted

FULL ARTICLE

It is inconceivable to do business, give credit, or trust in any way, anyone whom you do not know well, without first obtaining some background on the person. Yet so many people unfortunately and carelessly do this.

Nobody can give you a guarantee on anyone else’s behaviour and often not even on their own future actions. However it is very obvious that someone’s past behaviour, attitudes, achievements or lack of, are about as clear a picture as you can ever get, and are over all very revealing.

Nobody could have had decades of bad luck or simply a bad phase, and even if they truly did, then this is just as good a reason to steer clear of them.

We live in a perfect society and era to easily obtain such recommendations from others. Malta is small enough to invariably find some connection with anyone, if you look hard enough. And with Facebook and other social media, it is often very easy to delve into somebody’s background and stye.

If you take the time and make the effort to ask around, you will usually get a pretty good profile and feel to the person you are considering dealing with. If you sense some hesitation from various people you ask, then it is always best to delve deeper. Check out what their reservations are based on. Admittedly there are certain individuals, such as some sharp successful businesspeople, who might create some apprehension in others, without every really having caused anyone any harm.

However if you start hearing of hard facts, such as people not being paid, being cheated, or taken for a ride, or simply treated badly, then this is a very clear warning sign to stay well away. Do not kid yourself, if this person has a history of being dishonest and nasty, then the chances of you being the next victim are very close to 100%.

If, on the other hand, you receive only fair reports, then hopefully the coast is clear, and you would have at least surmounted the very first hurdle.

If the person in question finds out that you have been checking on them, then unless they have something ugly to hide, this should really not bother them at all, it should actually flatter them. It also shows that you know how to do your homework and that you are a sensible and clever businessperson. So don’t be duped by silly stories of them being offended by your lack of trust. If they are true businesspeople and not charlatans they know that business is not based on trust but on facts, at least not in the very being.

Trust must be earned through being honest in situations where you had absolutely no control or means to check up on them. When on the other hand there are means of control available, such as this one, then every businessperson should use them to their advantage.

Here are some of the most obvious ways of checking up on someone :
– Simply ask the people around you – family, friends, colleagues, acquaintances
– Ask in any private group, club, forum you form part of, which groups up many individuals
– Check for mutual Facebook friends
– Check out their personal background such as schools, clubs and interests, where you
might have a few contacts
– Ask contacts who are involved in the same business or industry as them
– Check out their business platforms such as their website and FB page for contacts,
recommendations and third parties whom you may know
– Ask for general recommendations in related professional fora
– Failing all of this just ask them! Yes, tell them that you require some recommendations.
This too is normal practice and certainly should never offend

Above all do not just hope for the best. Keep in mind that often the biggest crooks are the best talkers who easily convince others of their false good intentions. So never take anyone’s word for it. Furthermore, what anyone tells you verbally, they should have no qualms putting down on paper. If you are given the lame reply that their word is enough, then start running as fast as you can in the opposite direction.

The same applies when recruiting personnel, although the situation here is much easier. When applying for a job, candidates are meant to list their previous employments and also present written recommendations. But here again never simply take their word for it. Check up on them and follow up all of their past claims without fail.

Also keep in mind that the documentation presented to you could easily be missing certain unsavoury experiences, such as jobs where things went horribly wrong. So when checking up with previous employers, always confirm employment dates to ensure that all jobs have been included.

Possibly the only circumstances when I wouldn’t even bother checking on job candidates, is when they come with stories of abuse and victimisation at each of their past jobs. We can all be misfortunate once or at very most perhaps twice, but anything more is most obviously a self-produced trend. Even however if it is stated that this happened only once, I would still ensure that I delve deeply into the matter by hearing the other side of the story, before I come to my own conclusions on the matter.

What leaves me totally speechless, is how many employers, some of whom are even considered as serious companies, have employed some of my very worst and dishonest employees without even enquiring with me about them. I am referring to cases when I know for a fact that the new employers were very aware that the person in question worked for me, but no checking was done. In every such case that I know of, this employment too finished off with a very terrible outcome, as of course expected.

On one specific occasion, I was under the distinct impression that an employee was hugely cheating me and trying to obtain hard evidence to dismiss him. Then suddenly a close business acquaintance of mine poached him off me to work at his competing business. It transpired later that the employee misappropriated a large amount of money from his new employer’s business within months of his engagement. I still make it a point to thank my ex-competitor each time I see him!

DON’T LEAVE THE LIGHTS ON

Many years ago when I was living in France, one of our favourite pastimes was touring around the endless countryside and many regions of this fascinating country.

On one such occasion we were visiting Normandy, just northwest of Paris. The main scope of our trip was to drive along the stunning coastal cliffs around Etretat, Yport and Fecamp, finishing off at Dieppe, besides savouring the extraordinary regional delights such as their mouthwatering seafood, the many cream based dishes, their superb cheeses, accompanied by lovely apple cider and potent calvados.

We also intended ending our journey by meeting my ex-wife’s brother and his wife, and all spending the night at her mother’s house, in a tiny hamlet, a few kilometres inland from Dieppe. They lived in quite a small apartment in town, but her mother had a very big old house, which was much more convenient to accommodate guests.

So we finally arrive in this little hamlet, literally lost in the middle of nowhere. We got there around dusk, just in time before it became totally dark, especially as it was a sombre and overcast day. As soon as we glimpsed the old house, we were rather struck by its impressive, even foreboding appearance. It stood strangely on its own, away from the other buildings, and had a distinct eerie and sinister feeling to it.

It was one of those large dark stone and black timber framed houses, known as colombage, so typical of the area. We shook off our initial apprehension as we were greeted in by my then brother and sister-in-law, and told to make ourselves comfortable. We were shown to our room right up in the attic, which was furnished with the oldest, heavy, rustic furniture I had seen in a long time.

When we descended to the dining room for dinner, we finally met our sister-in-law’s mother, who was standing oddly by the window of the dimly lit room, staring out into oblivion. She turned around towards us ever so slowly, virtually in slow motion, until we caught sight of her shocking face. She looked exactly like a witch. There were no two ways about it. It was really a witch we were looking at. She had tiny black evil and deeply-set eyes, a long pointed hooked nose, and an even longer chin with a rather ugly wart at its tip. She even cackled when she spoke to us, in her derisive and scornful way.

There was obviously something terribly wrong with this woman, and I am not only referring to her evil looks. She had a sneering, disdainful way of talking to you, and she stared constantly and directly into your eyes, never pulling them away for an instant. Even as we sat around the large dark oak table to eat, somehow each and every time I dared look up, I always found her staring straight at me, in the most unnerving of ways.

Then half way through the meal, she stood up and walked out of the room without saying a word, only to return a few minutes later, pushing an old squeaky wheelchair in which sat her own dying mother.

This was our second big shock of the evening. Her mother was totally paralysed and immobile, but worse still she was also blind and she stared out into the darkness with large horrifying white eyes, while her jaw laid permanently hanging at a very odd angle.

As may be expected, in the circumstances we did not quite enjoy our dinner, and to be honest I cannot even recall what we had eaten that evening. We finished quickly and made it quite obvious that we wanted to retire to our bedroom to sleep.

The witch insisted on coming up with us to lead us back to our room. On the way up she firmly informed us that the only light in our bedroom was the large central chandelier which had eight bulbs, so she insisted that we switch it off at night. What an odd thing to say, I thought. When we got to the bedroom, she opened the door for us, virtually shoving us in, bade us a good night in a clearly mocking tone, and literally slammed the heavy door shut, before proceeding down the corridor, cackling and moaning on her own.

We just looked at each other speechless, really not knowing what to make of all of this. Why hadn’t my brother-in-law mentioned any of this. Surely he too could see the perturbing situation. It was simply one of those mind-boggling situations which just left you speechless, with absolutely no words to describe it.

So we switched off the lights and got into bed. But that’s when the real terror started. The room was in total and perfect darkness. There was nothing, not even the tiniest glimmer of light anywhere. Just complete and pitch black darkness in every direction, no matter how much you desperately looked around.

But the most unsettling thing was that we could distinctly feel a strong sense of evil all around us. There was a morbid and foul sensation filling the room and engulfing us within it. And as it was also perfectly silent, as the saying goes, the silence was deafening. My ears were ringing loudly inside my head.

We just laid there shaking, terrified, hugging each other. Neither of us ever slept. We wouldn’t dare allow ourselves to sleep, making ourselves even more vulnerable to the malicious elements lurking all around us in the dark and preying upon us.

Only half way through the night, I desperately had to use the bathroom, and couldn’t hold it any longer. The word reluctant doesn’t even start to describe my feeling, as I had to crawl out of bed and fumble around blindly in the total darkness to the door, were the light switch was located. By then however, my ex-wife seemed to be finally sleeping, so I left the lights off not to wake her, as I made my way outside into the corridor.

But when I returned and opened the door, I distinctly heard her panting furiously in bed. I quickly switched on the light in a mad panic and there I saw her, lying in bed, with her eyes wide open, and with the most petrified expression ever. She was pinned to the bed and unable to move. Her head and neck seemed to be held down by some ghastly force, visibly being thrusted down into the bed and pillow with great weight.

I flew at her in wild panic. And as soon as I was about to pull her up she literally launched up at me from the waist up, hitting me hard on the chest with her head. She finally came to and started screaming and shouting and weeping uncontrollably, hysterical in her state of total horror and shock. I held her hard in my arms desperately trying to calm her down.

When she could finally talk, the very first thing she told me, was to pack our things there and then and leave immediately without further delay. It did seem like the most obvious thing to do, but somehow even in such terrifying situations, some amount of logic still remains. I was wondering how on earth we would explain our sudden disappearance in the middle of the night to her brother. I was worried that they might call the police, when they didn’t find us in the morning. This was well before the time of mobile phones and we didn’t know the land line number of the house, to inform them the next morning that we had decided to leave.

We discussed what we should do over and over. One thing which was sure, was that we were leaving the lights on! I was also having visions of us getting lost in the surrounding woods and driving around aimlessly in the dark, which was not a very comforting eventuality either. And then, as we continued contemplating the best plan of action, little by little we could see a growing glimmer of light coming in through the window. It was morning and soon the sun would rise, so we might as well do our best to endure the last couple of hours, saving ourselves a lot of very awkward explanations.

We were downstairs very early, packed and ready to go. Even showers and shaving could wait until we got home. We would rather get out of this evil place smelling dirty, than spending even a few minutes more than we had to.

So we had the obligatory so-called breakfast, which in those days consisted only of the French traditional large handleless bowl of black coffee and slice of plain dry bread, and got the hell out of there.

As we were about to exit through the front door, the witch approached us, looked at us malevolently in the eyes and uttered “I told you not to leave the lights on”. We just rushed out without even replying or speaking to her. We jumped into our car and raced off as quickly as we could, in any direction. I only looked back once, when we were about a hundred metres away from the house, and I could swear that I could see her in the window staring right at us.

FACTORING IN TIME IN PROJECTS & CAMPAIGNS

SYNOPSIS IN POINT FORM
 
• Planning a project or campaign properly takes time
• Do not leave matters until the very last minute unless you have to
• Always leave additional time for unexpected problems and circumstances
• When a project is rushed, quality tends to suffer
• It is hard to negotiate with suppliers when you are late
• Final content may always be tweaked at the last moment to retain freshness and a contemporary feel to a campaign
• Devote an appropriate amount of time for each project and not more than it is worth
• Wanting to get things right should not mean getting stuck on trivial matters
• Plan out your projects against a set timeline
• Create a yearly business calendar of your recurring events and projects
 
FULL ARTICLE
 
Today the saying often goes that everyone wants everything done yesterday.
 
I would slightly modify this to saying that everyone who is disorganised and cannot plan properly, wants everything done yesterday.
 
If some people have turned this into some form of trend, then it does not promote them as being terribly professional people. If you are convinced that your managerial prowess works perfectly well, even in time of crisis, then save this for real times of crisis. Do not yourself create unnecessary panic modes, as this will only prove to be disruptive all round.
 
It causes unwarranted stress on yourself, your colleagues and collaborators, your suppliers and clients, and on your business as a whole.
 
If you keep on stretching things over and over, they will eventually break. So be proud not that you manage to pull together the impossible when it was not really required, but that you know how to plan things well in advance, calmly, professionally and without creating unneeded havoc.
 
Management is all about planning and planning is all time-related. Nothing exists on its own without the factor of time.
 
Earning €1000 means nothing unless it is qualified in time. If it is earned in a day is it pretty good, if it is earned in a year, it is negligible. Doubling your sales is excellent over a year and average to mediocre over ten or twelve.
 
Everything is based on time. Leaving matters until the last minute is the sign of bad planning. If something usually takes two weeks to complete, then you should start planning it six weeks in advance and set it in motion fours weeks before, giving yourself plenty of time for unforeseen circumstances which very often crop up.
 
If you are planning a Christmas marketing campaign, then as most serious companies do, you should start considering this in July and August, obtaining quotes in September or very latest October, if it is a very simple affair, and have it all wrapped up and booked by at most the end of October or the beginning of November. But don’t go asking around and contacting suppliers for complex jobs on the second week of December! This is incredulously shortsighted and badly planned. If you’ve missed the boat, just accept it and move on and learn from it, rather than trying to obtain the impossible.
 
Similarly, if you typically launch a promotion at Easter time, then start planning this in mid-Autumn, and if you take part in say the annual Trade Fair starting at the end of June, then January would be an excellent time to start planning this.
 
In today’s business world where much of marketing is campaign driven, rather than planned well in advance, and often happens at the spur of the moment, you will certainly give yourself a very big competitive edge if you are capable enough of foreseeing and planning it properly, before everyone else.
 
Then if you want your campaign to be fresh and based on the very latest events, all you have to do is tweak the content.
 
This is because there is no doubt that insofar as service, care and attention to detail is concerned, nothing has ever changed, and whatever is done in a mad rush still very much tends to be of inferior quality than something which is done slowly and carefully.
 
A professional project, being marketing related or not, is by far the best when it is discussed and considered in-depth, then planned accordingly, and handed over to your suppliers without excessive rush, hence focusing on quality and even price, rather than time. It is obvious that when doing things urgently, you are in no position to negotiate or ask for a discount either.
 
The other extreme is equally counterproductive, and when even the smaller less important decisions are taking up a disproportionate amount of your time, you are being even less professional. I am often astonished how so-called professionals will sometimes meet up repeatedly, discuss, consider and reconsider, an issue which pales in importance next to all the other things they are not doing during all this time.
 
Do not get stuck on petty issues. Afford matters the importance they deserve – no more and no less. The same arguments of time highlighted above apply here too. If you have planned and gone ahead and succeeded on a particular project, but this is a project which should have been turned around and completed in a fraction of the time you devoted to it, then it was not truly a success.
 
If you get stuck pondering over the tiny details for ages, justifying this in your mind by saying that you are a perfectionist and want everything right, then in all probability you are more of a low capacity slow performer and need to train yourself to move on faster. An efficient businessperson can do things properly and quickly and allocates no more than the right amount of time and effort to each process.
 
So as everything else in life, both extremes are odious. Learn how to manage your planning time accordingly and discipline yourself to stick to a set timeline.
 
It always makes sense to map out a project beforehand and this can only be projected against time. Time in turn must be related to allocation of resources and ultimately to profitability,
 
Make up your own business calendar with all the recurring events throughout the year and use it often as a guideline for effective and timely planning.