Curse of the diary (Tuesday, May. 03, 2005)

I think I'm going to have to stop writing this diary. Why? I think it is the source of my bad luck of late. Take today for example. Just before lunch, my boss stops me to say "don't miss the 1 o'clock, the chief exec is going to be there and wants an update from you - if I remember rightly the last meeting you were in with him you kneed him in the head". Ahhh so they hadn't forgotten that incident (see http://slinkycurtis.diaryland.com/050407_16.html), they just hadn't been mentioning it.

OK I thought, just make sure I go the loo before the meeting, then I'll be fine. Just time to pop into town before the meeting. THAT was the mistake. See in the confines of the office, there isn't a lot that can go wrong out of your control, take yourself OUT of the office, into a car and drive into town, the possibilities are endless.

So the drive to town was fine, finding a parking space was fine, in fact finding the shopping centre and a Tesco (OK, so I still shop there) to buy my lunch from was all fine. My problems started with the queue at Tesco, which was just ridiculous - one in front? I'd have been happy with single digit of customer's in front. So sandwich is abandoned and I go to boots instead, where I get suckered into the whole meal deal thing. So damn complicated. "For red labelled items, you can have a sandwich, or salad + selected drink + snack or piece of fruit under �1.39 or you can have green labelled items where you can have a sandwich, or deluxe salad, + drink + fruit or healthy snack option so long as the combined weight is under 840g" - aaaaahhh!! Grabbed a dodgy salad drink and 'snack', failed to get the meal deal at the till (I was sure the total weight was 820g, ah well) but couldn't be bothered to argue.

Should be thinking about going back to the office at this stage, but remembered the �25 whsmith voucher burning a hole in my wallet - so popped in to grab some albums and books and whatever. Bought the Kasabian album and British Sea Power (both highly recommend) and joined the queue, quite long but time in hand, heart rate slowing nicely. Get to the front and inevitably was told "can't purchase them here mate, have to go the CD counter". Ahh of course, stone age whsmith and its special counter for each item.

Panicing again I join the queue for CD's which is not too long, but my word - the lady serving? She seemed to have at least 10 things on her mind, last of which was serving customers. The bloke at the front of the queue presented his empty CD case and she proceeded to go up and down every little aisle that housed the CD, scanning every last shelf for the CD. It reminded me of those old science tests where they put a mouse in the maze, and watch it eventually escape as it tries every combination of routes. Unfortunately that mouse had more brains than CD women, who went back and forth, back and forth, for (and I timed it) 6 minutes and 32 seconds. The only thing that stopped her was the bloke pointing out the CD on one of the front fixtures of her maze. I couldn't decide if he could see it all along and in a sadistic way just wanted to see how long it took her, I hoped not as I would then need to stab him.

So eventually I'm served, and I've got 10 minutes to get back for my meeting. I'm running now (not quite at the speed through Thorpe Park (see http://slinkycurtis.diaryland.com/050419_9.html)) but getting close. Hoorah no queue at the ticket machine. Hoorah becomes 'bugger' as no queue because no working. Helpful sign says 'nearest working machine near JD Sports' which is fine so long as you know where JD Sports is. Which I don't. Now I'm really sprinting, and as luck has it, find JD Sports just around the corner, pay my money and head back to the car.

5 minutes to go - and then this is where things start to go really wrong. Feeling cocky, I get in the car and open my pasta salad to start eating because I'm seriously hungry. I then start driving out of the car park, salad precariously balanced in lap. Now eating whilst driving is not particularly clever, one hand on the steering wheel the other hand holding the sandwich. Times that by 10 when eating a pasta salad. First hazard is the typical corkscrew style narrow exit, with useful signs saying 'warning, tyre noise'. Except in my case it was 'bumper grating on concrete bollard noise'. Finally escape the car park and I'm on the road, 2 minutes to go. Thinking I might just make it when inevitably, some bastard old geezer cuts in front of me causes me to brake suddenly, and I'm wearing pasta salad trousers. Have you ever shouted so loud you made yourself jump? Well I have now.

So I'm back in the office, 5 minutes late to the meeting, and I get to meet the chief exec this time, covered in pasta and chicken with a nice honey and mustard sauce....so just sack me now, please.......

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