December 2007

The end of year Christmas function is invariably a disaster for someone. There is always at least one person who unwittingly embarrasses himself or herself so much that their only chance of salvaging an already heavily tarnished reputation is resignation.

They could try live through the embarrassment praying that some fool does something worse the following year. But there is no guarantee. Even if someone does manage to do something more mind-numbingly idiotic at the following years party no one will ever forget the original incident. Oh and you’ll collect an ‘amazing’ nickname, something that will forever tie you to your shameful Christmas party act.

Also don’t listen to your mother - time won’t be helping you out, no one is going to forget. People are funny that way. They seldom remember the good, but if it’s embarrassing it’s highly likely that it’s the one thing they’ll remember when they’re suffering from Alzheimer’s at 90.

Even changing jobs is no guarantee that the humiliating incident will remain buried. Stories, especially the blush worthy ones, spread like urban legends. One day you’ll be sitting in that board meeting, or at the PTA gathering and someone, who is always played by an insensitive loud lout, will shout your mortifying nickname across the room.

If you take nothing else to heart this festive season just remember that when you’ve had a few drinks and are leaning towards the brave [read: moronic] side just say no. Help fight your inner idiot this festive season.

I’m considering moving away from banks in general. I realize that is a bold statement. I mean I know that there is nothing to move to, at least nothing with the purported security of banks. The alternatives that I am presently weighing up include, but are not limited to, my mattress, my underwear draw, my sock draw and a can that has been cleverly disguised as a coffee can. All of these are good, solid 1820’s options. They’re not to be sniffed at by anyone. Yet I hear you all sniffing. Mostly because you don’t think they’re safe.

Well here is some heart-wrenching news neither is your beloved bank. Every which way you turn someone is trying to scam you out of your money. Today it is phishing and tomorrow it’s something else that sounds less ocean-orientated. I am just going to come out and say it - I feel used by my bank. Dealing with them is like a bad booty call. Talking to them is like sex with no orgasm and no cuddling. What’s worse is it’s a long-term relationship where you know that the grass is not greener in the other banks pastures.

Bang onto this the fact that they’re charging you for absolutely everything and you’ll find that the mattress option is looking far more appealing. On the positive side it is really comfortable, doesn’t involve queuing and doubles as a place to sleep. Can your bank do that for you? I didn’t think so.