Life as an independent consultant really is an unglamorous procession of one hotel room after another sometimes. Although exciting at first, the novelty soon wears off – especially when one spends more time in a strange bed than in the comfort of one’s own. The air-conditioning is often a welcome boon – but only if you have the skills and training to work out the touch-button controls! Clearly I haven’t. After an innocuous press of one of the soft buttons this week, the array of exciting looking icons became inexplicably hidden, and all I could seemingly achieve was to alter the fan speed. No amount of random button combinations or power cycles would bring the icons back. I did what any reasonable human would do…turned it off and waited until the cleaners had been in. Worked a treat after that.
Chasing the Wrong Weather
It is often possible to chase the best weather Britain has to offer when travelling around the country to visit different client sites. Not this week, though. Whilst folks back home were basking in glorious sunshine and replete in shorts and T-shirts, I was walking in the rain and wind with a hat on. Life as an independent consultant – ah, the glamour and perks.
Toilets and the Nighttime Economy
Another ‘perk’ of living out of a suitcase is the ability to put weight on each week by indulging in the very worst (but tastiest) offerings of hotels and restaurants. I do have to remain in fairly short distance from my hotel in most towns and cities, though – and that’s because of the lack of accessible toilets at night. As an ostomate, I don’t ask for much – just a private cubicle with fresh water, a mirror, and perhaps a hook on which to hang my appliance bag. I believe that the law requires new hostelries etc to ensure the provision of accessible conveniences, but existing ones do not. In two different locations this week, I’ve had to leave an event early and get a lift from a family celebration owing to the lack of facilities. It is only my personal experiences to date, but the facilities afforded during the working day do seem to be lacking at night. I have no idea how those less able than I get to socialise easily. Maybe they don’t – and that’s sad.
Deodorant for the Superrich
Since sharing my random musings as to what type of deodorant the superrich use, I’ve been regularly nagged (Paul) to find out the answer. Wow, the answer is disappointing. It could be that there is some sort of uber-secret-personal-hygiene cult one gets indoctrinated into (once suitably wealthy) – in which one discovers the hidden world of bathing in milk, nectar and honey or something…or that the answer really is as dull as it seems.
I’ve read a few accounts of former staffers to the mega rich who assert they do in fact use the same deodorant as us mere mortals. Others point to the range of luxury deodorants which are becoming more widely available. But these range from a meagre £30 to a disappointing £95 a ‘tube’ as far as I can establish. Disappointed just doesn’t cut it. I’m choosing to believe that there IS a secretive hygeine organisation – which can never be revealed on the pain of death. A much more interesting answer.
