Thursday 20 November 2014

Mr Lambert

I must be getting to the age when I appear to be respectable and trustworthy...

Over the past few days I seemed to have been called 'Mr Lambert' quite a lot.

Now, whenever anyone shouts 'Mr Lambert' I look around for my Dad.  I don't really see myself as a Mr Lambert kind of guy but in some ways it's quite nice.  I suppose.

I have to say, though, I'm not one for massive amounts of tradition, such as called someone Mr or Mrs or Miss.  Oh, don't get me wrong; I love a bit of 'real' tradition.  Things like Trooping the Colour, pubs, pomp and ceremony and all that kind of thing.

Other traditions like calling me Mr Lambert or saying - 'we're going to do it that way because we've always done it that way' - doesn't really cut it with me.

Take banking, for example.  In terms of branch banking - a manager who was a pillar of the community, knowing all his or her customers being present at the birth of their children didn't really bother me that much.  I was open to the new way of doing things with sales specialists looking after particular needs and so on.

The thing is, I've had to question my view over the past few days and I'm re-evaluating whether traditional is actually best after all.

I had occasion to call a guy who I thought was our Relationship Manager.  It turns out that he's moved on to a different role and no longer wants anything to do with us.

Okay... no great issue with that; people move jobs all the time.  So who's our new Relationship Manager?

'Ah, well, now, you see, you don't have one... you have something infinitely better.  You have a team of Relationship Managers.  Just call this number... and any one of them can help you!'

So I called the number (and had to go through security which I almost failed) and talked to what sounded like a youngish fella.

When I explained what I wanted he told me that I'd have to speak with a different Relationship Manager, which I did.  When I explained to her what I wanted she told me I'd have to speak with a different Relationship Manager and he'd have to call me... tomorrow.

Which actually turned out to be the day after tomorrow.

Anyway, the fella called me and asked if I was 'Mr Lambert...'  So I explained I preferred Richard  and went on to explain a few plans we have.  Now, do bear in mind we've been a customer of our bank for more than 10 years... halfway through a sentence the fella interrupted me:

'Er, what did you say your business name was?'

'TaxAssist Accountants... now, back to our plans.'

'Sorry... Tax what?'

'Huh?'

'What did you say your name was?'

'Have you actually heard of us?'

'Well, to be honest, no.'  Was his reply, 'Up until a couple of weeks ago I was an Agricultural Relationship Manager.'

'Ah, so you don't know much about accountancy..?'

'I know the basics...'

Hmmm... anyway he promised to send me an email with some follow up questions, which, in all fairness he did.

The email was prefixed with:

'Dear Mr Richard' and his Job Title still says 'Agricultural Relationship Manager'.

You couldn't make this stuff up... I wrote back saying that it didn't fill me with confidence and that LITTLE THINGS = BIG THINGS in the mind of the customer as Tom Peters once wrote.

Wednesday 12 November 2014

A lump on me nuts

I come from traditional Suffolk stock... which essentially means that a manly handshake is about as emotional as we get.

Given that the usual answer to the question 'How are you today?'  Is: 'not too bad!'  You can probably see why the following blog has not been very easy to write.

During the first week of October I first noticed what can only be described as a lump on my left ball.  I don't check down there too often but I do check and in some ways I was pleased I'd spotted it because you never quite know if you're looking in the right places.

Being fairly stoic about these sorts of things I put it to the back of my mind but I made an appointment with the doc PDQ.

I'm not quite sure what I was expecting but the doc was a bloke probably about the same age as me.  He asked me what the problem was and, being fairly embarrassed by this time I decided to go all hearty: 'Well, doc, there's no easy way to say this, but I think I've found a lump on my left nut...'

His response took me a little by surprise: 'Hmmm... anything else you want to talk about?'

'Errrr... errrr... no, not really.'  Isn't that enough? I thought to myself.

Next stage was the inspection.  Stand up, drop the ol' trousers and let everything hang free.  Hmmm... a strange little moment of my life; another fella rummaging around amongst my gentleman's area.

AND he was giving me a running commentary, whilst I was standing there with my face flaming red.

'Yes, that's pipework... hmmm... epidermis, one ball higher than the other.  That's normal.  Ah... here it is.  Yes, yes, quite squidgy... hmmm.'

Bloody hell!  What was going on down there?

'Okay,' says the doc, 'You can pull your trousers up.  Listen, you're 46 so nearly too old for testicular cancer but I'm very cautious about things like this.

'I'm almost certain it's a cyst but I want to make sure so I'm going to arrange an urgent appointment with the Ultrasound Department and they'll tell for certain.'

Urgent?  'Are you worried, then?'

'Well, no, but it's best to get seen quickly.'

A couple of days later my appointment came through.  Two weeks time, 9.15am.

That was this morning.

I had successfully put the lump out of my mind until today but I have to say I was nervous as I turned up at the clinic and I was expecting a wait to get the results after today.

I fetched up and 9 and was taken straight into a room.  A nurse (heaven help me and preserve me from a flaming face and more embarrassment) told me to drop me trousers to mid thigh, lay on the bed and use a pad of tissue to keep me old chap out of the way.

'I'd tell you to relax,' says she, 'but I know you won't...'  Damn right I won't.

'I'll go and get Mrs Sharkey, the consultant.'

Urgent appointment?  Consultant?

Now I was getting really worried.

Mrs Sharkey turned out to be about 35 years old and was heavily pregnant.  I don't know why that bothered me, but it did!

So, ultrasound is easy.  A bit of cold gel and about 10 minutes of searching.  But then the consultant wanted to look at my kidneys too.  Why?

The whole thing was over in 15 minutes and the consultant immediately gave me good news:

'Well, your GP was right, it's a small cyst.  No need for any treatment unless it grows or becomes painful.  The veins on the left are a bit prominent but that's nothing and your kidneys are perfect.'

Oh my God, the relief.

It was amazing.  I had such an outpouring of relief that after I came down from it I felt really grumpy!

And so, finally, to the moral of the story:

If someone like me can deal with the embarrassment and uncertainty of going through a diagnosis with a number of different people fiddling with my under carriage, then so can you.

Check your balls and if there's anything untoward, get it checked out.

The embarrassment lasts 5 minutes, the results and relief stay with you forever.

It's Movember.  Here's my Mo and a link to my Just Giving Page.  If you could spare a couple of quid, that would be great.



Richard

Monday 3 November 2014

Movember

I quite like the concept of growing a moustache but find the process a bit tedious... and then the grief I get from Renee for having what looks like a spare eyebrow on my top lip is even more wearisome.

She does have a point... which she also makes about stubble in general.

I'm very jealous of those blokes who can grow stubble, put on a suit and look fresh and smart and no-one would ever think them scruffy or ungroomed.

Quite the opposite, in fact.

A dark, evenly spread, covering someone between four and five days growth, I think can look good on a bloke... less good on a woman, I grant you.

Take Paul Dempsey for instance.  He's arrived at the six week stage and he has a very full outgrowth... evenly coloured (ginger is a bit unfortunate, but there you go) and he's even started trimming it to get it into fine fettle.

He admitted to me on Saturday night that he's even started to use 'beard oil' on his chin.  Presumably to stop the rustling and squeaking when he eats.

The trouble is my beard doesn't look at all well groomed when it comes through, no matter what I do to help it along.  I suspect that even oiling won't have much of an effect.

I have two issues.

My beard comes through thick enough in most places but it grows at an uneven pace and has what I can only describe as swirls.  You know, hair growing in different directions.  It sounds great but when one is trying to grow consistent coverage it doesn't really help.

The second issue I have is colouring.

I recognise that I'm fortunate enough in hair terms that I both have a decent coverage on top of my head (although my forehead seems to be expanding rapidly) and that I haven't yet turned grey very much.  In fact, my hair is still so dark at 46 years old that my Dad asked me the other day whether I used Just For Men.  (Other hair colouring products are available.

I think I only half convinced him that I don't... and I don't, by the way.

However, the darkness of the hair on my head is not repeated by the darkness of the hair on my face.

It comes through in what I can only describe as patches of light and dark.  Grey on my chin, dark along the jaw line tapering to grey around my side burns.

Piebald is how I would describe it.  I just wish it would come through as one or the other.

Anyway...

This Movember I'm going to have a go at growing a full on gringo moustache.  Last year I managed about 10 days before the hair at the corner of my mouth drove me mad... we'll see how we get on this year.  And here's my day 1 picture (I last shaved Saturday evening).



The bottom line is, of course, it's for a worthy cause amongst many worthy causes.

Friday 24 October 2014

It's been a while

Ever had one of those periods in your life where you are so busy that it doesn't seem possible to do any more...

...and then the demands get greater and realise you can do more?

My Dad used to say 'I'm so busy I've met meself coming back!'

Never was very sure what he meant but he is from Suffolk after all!

Anyway, that's what's been happening to Renee and me over the passed few weeks.  The business has become very busy (and long may it continue, by the way... don't for one minute think I'm complaining) and it's been a little difficult to lift the ol' head up above the parapet for anything, let alone blog.

We've been working some pretty decent hours, like many people, and I was having a think as to why that might be.

Of course, I've been asking recently if anyone knows of any accountants who might want a change of scenery - we still have a vacancy for a new team member if anyone knows anyone - which means we're short staffed.

But that's not the fundamental reason for the long hours.  No, the reason is because of a thing called the one third rule.

We reckon that a third of our turnover should go on overheads, things like the rent and software and marketing and 'phone bills and... well, you get the picture.  Another third goes on our salary bill (or should do) and the final third ends up as profit (eventually) when we stop growing.

Our salary bill is not 1/3 of our turnover at the moment which means that the slack has to be taken up somewhere...and it's by us (or more accurately, mostly Renee).  As our salary bill falls behind our turnover we always see an increase in Renee's hours.

The secret then should be to have a salary bill that's 1/3 of turnover.  Wehay (said the staff) let's just put all our wages up.

Doesn't quite work like that, of course.  Because increased salary has to equate to increased production and when the team is at capacity that means bringing in new team members.

Although very interesting when I think about it in these terms it all amounts to the same thing.  We need a couple of members of staff.

Ideally we are looking for qualified accountants (or nearly qualified) who have worked in an accountancy practice and want to stay with a business while it expands rapidly.

They need to be customer focussed, efficient and generally wonderful in every way.

In return we'll pay them up to £30,000 and they'll have a stonkingly good time working in a fast paced but friendly environment.

Know anyone?

Please let me know: 0131 202 9888.

I'd love to hear from them.

Friday 29 August 2014

Blood

I've written before about what a circular thing life is and I had that feeling again yesterday.

Standing looking up at the Kensington Close Hotel, a large nondescript grey brick building just off Kensington High Street, I was immediately transported back 28 years to that exact spot.

It was warm, barmy night 28 years ago, too.  I was working for Midland Bank at the time and I had been sent to London.  I had to attend an assessment centre to see if I was suitable material for the new Management Development Programme.

I should have gone to an assessment centre closer to home but missed out, so it was down to the Smoke with a bunch of other hopefuls who couldn't get to their own regional events.

The travel department of dear old Midland Bank sent me a hotel voucher for the Kensington Close Hotel; so there I was, barely 18 years old, staying in London for the first time, wondering if the receptionist would actually accept my scrappy piece of paper.

Well, they did... I had a room and everything.

It was a hot night so I thought I'd have a bath before getting something to eat.  I had the TV on too... it was a World Cup game from Mexico '86.

When it came time to get out of the bath I stepped on a slippery patch.  My foot went from under me and I sliced the back of my ankle on a sharp edge at the bottom of the bath panel.  It wasn't a bad cut and it didn't hurt when I did it... but I just couldn't stop it bleeding.

I soaked a couple of towels and left bloody footprints across the bathroom floor and on the carpet in the bedroom

Eventually I packed the cut with toilet paper and went out.  I had my first Big Mac on that day, too.

Back in the hotel I peeled off the toilet paper only to find the cut was still bleeding.  Unperturbed I went to bed (having had a couple of drinks, now that I was 18 years old).

And woke up in a scene from a horror movie.

The sheet on my bed was soaked with blood - I must have tossed and turned in the night - and there was blood all over the bathroom towels, too, as well as on the carpets and across the bathroom floor.  Heaven knows what the cleaner would have made of the room.

Anyway, I did the only thing I could think of: I checked out without saying anything, hoping beyond hope the hotel wouldn't call my employer to tell them what an awful chap I was.

And now, 28 years later, here I am again, looking up at that same building.  It hasn't changed from the outside; the sounds, sights and smells are all just as I remember them from 28 years ago.


I even have a pang, wondering whether my name has pinged on their booking system: 'Lambert - charge him for the bloody sheets he ruined last time he was here!'    

Wednesday 23 July 2014

Worried

Sometimes I wished I didn't worry quite so much.

It seems to me that sometimes some people are able to breeze through life not worrying about... well, things really.  And I'm very envious of them.

Like the bloke on Bedford Railway Station this morning.  His trousers were very ruffled around his ankles.  That would worry me.  In fact, I worry that my trousers are too ruffled and I worry if they are half mast.

I worry that I'm putting on a bit of weight... and yet most people I see are bigger than me.  At least those of the same age.

And that's another thing.  I've suddenly released that I'm 46.  How did that happen?  It's a worry.

I worry if my 'phone doesn't ring or if it's ringing too much, I worry about what people think and if they don't think at all.  I worry about conflict (which I'm not good at, at all) but it really annoys me when someone throws a cigarette butt on the floor.

Enough already!

So, what's the secret of those people who seem to weave their way through life taking all these things in their stride.  I want some of that.

I bet there's a couple of things going on.

I bet firstly, I worry no more and no less than most people.  Everyone (or at least most people) have worries.  Secondly, I bet those people who seem more worry free worry just as much as everyone else.

The up shot of all that is, of course, that I shouldn't worry so much.

Care, there's a different kettle of fish.

Change the word 'worry' and replace it with 'care' and suddenly it doesn't seem so bad.  I do care about all those things, whether they were said tongue in cheek or not.  But I'd rather care than not.

Caring drives us to do the right things, to be better and think carefully about consequences when we decide on a course of action.  Caring is what differentiates one person from another.

For example, for better or for worse I do care what people think and feel.  That makes me think very carefully before saying or doing things that are going to impact on them.  It can a tricky path to steer and sometimes I think too much about others and not enough about me, but hey ho.

In fact, I think I might do a bit more thinking about others and see what effect it has.

Oh, and I might go on a proper diet, too.

Wednesday 16 July 2014

London

As some of you know (because you gave some really good suggestions) I had a Lad and Dad weekend with my son last week.

He's 14 and loves his Xbox.

He also gets out and about with his mates and they do a fair amount of mucking about - which I think is great; just what boys should do, although I'm fairly pleased not to know all the detail of what he gets up to.  For example, a few months ago I asked how his Saturday had been.

'Alright,' he grunted. 'We found an old supermarket trolley in the woods and took it in terms to sit in it while the others pushed as fast they could.  Then we found a dart and tried to see who could throw it closest to someone else's foot without them flinching.'

Hmmm...

Anyway, it was with a certain amount of trepidation that I was facing the weekend.  Would he enjoy himself?  Would it just be a chore for him?  Would he be interested in stuff?

I needn't have worried.  We did so much... here it is in order.

We started with a Wetherspoon's breakfast to fortify ourselves for the day.  Then it was up Tower Bridge for the Tower Bridge Experience - including across the walkways 42 metres above the Thames!  Very interesting it was, too.



Then on to HMS Belfast, which was excellent, as well.  We spent 2 hours on the warship.

We took a tube 'up west' to Leicester Square where we bought tickets for a play.  (I thought Adam would want to see a show but he suggested we went to see Jeeves and Wooster... having seen a bit of it on the telly a couple of weeks ago).

From Leicester Square we went to Piccadilly Circus, across to Trafalgar Square, Downing Street, The Palace of Westminster.  We bought a sandwich and sunbathed on St James's Park, walked down the Mall to Buckingham Palace and back up Bird Cage Walk to Horsguards, back on to Whitehall and eventually to Leicester Square for a drink.



Then it was a steakhouse for dinner.  8oz sirloin turned up raw together with a very hot stone and we cooked it ourselves in different flavoured sauces.

Jeeves and Wooster, set in the 1920s and based on the P G Wodehouse characters, was very funny.  I wasn't sure Adam would enjoy it but he certainly seemed to and I know I did.



So back to the hotel for 11.30 - exhausted... or at least I was!

Thank you for all your suggestions... we couldn't do them all so we'll just have to go back for another go!

Friday 4 July 2014

Time

I've been thinking about time recently.

Not in the usual, very practical way - as in 'OMG I don't have enough time to do everything' - but in more an abstract way.

I was thinking specifically about the way time fixes images in my mind.

The middle school I went to was called Roman Hill Middle School.  I started there in 1978, so this memory comes from either 1978 or 1979; 36 years ago.  And it's as clear today as when I was there.

It was school assembly and it was being taken by a teacher called Mr Wilkinson.  I was never in his form, nor did I have any lessons with him.  I don't think I ever interacted with him 1 to 1.  Mr Wilkinson told a story about a runner who didn't have a great running technique but was winning everything because he tried hard... or as Mr Wilkinson put it, 'He had guts.'

It was the usual moral stuff given out in school assemblies.

For some reason I thought about that assembly, as I have every so often in the intervening period, and consequently, Mr Wilkinson, too.  In my mind he is fixed at that point of time, 36 years ago.  Tweed jacket, patches on the elbows, comfortable shoes, permanent 5 O'Clock shadow, sandy coloured hair, about 50 years old.  I can even remember where I was sitting: about fifteen rows back from the front, slightly to the left hand side of the school hall.

It was with some shock that I realised Mr Wolkinson would now be 86, if he's still alive.

I thought about it some more and it's a common theme, this fixing a memory at a point in time.  I remember being introduced to a friend's girlfriend in 1986, it was the only time I ever met this girl and I never knew her name.  We were all 18 and her image is fixed in my memory at that point... she's now 46 years old.

It's not worrying me per se, because I don't worry about things like time passing; there's nothing I can do about it and there's lots of other things to worry about.

But it did remind me that time is not linear; seconds, minutes, hours and days are simply human constructs to help us make sense of the journey we're on.  Actually I can jump back in time 36 years instantly - that single point in time in school assembly is imprinted on my memory exactly how it was.

It also reminded me that it's very important to raise your head every so often to look around at the world.

These fixed point events must be important for some reason (the assembly about the runner with guts was pretty much the same as a hundred other assemblies I had to sit through and yet it it stuck)... but why are they important?

I think these fixed point in time memories serve a couple of purposes.  They give us reference points in our lives, like landmarks on a long drive.  They serve as reminders of where we've come from.

But I think they serve another purpose but I can't fathom what it is... or at least if I do know it's sub-conscious.  The assembly about the runner hasn't inspired me in my life, I don't think, and it didn't mean anything at the time, either.

It may be they remind us to lift our heads from the humdrum day to day which accounts for the vast majority of our time.  If we don't we run the danger of not noticing the important things that give us these reference points for everything else and are clearly important moments in time.

'Time is a companion on the journey.  It reminds us to cherish every moment on the way.'

Who came out with that philosophical pearl of wisdom?

It was Jean Luc Picard.  Who said Star Trek wasn't very cultural?

Monday 23 June 2014

Laughter

We had a strange session earlier today in the office.

At was Renee's brainchild after she met Jo Bluett, whose business card lists her job title as 'Laughter Consultant.'

I think you can probably see where this is going.

Monday morning, the team turns up for work and Jo turns up right behind them.  We stand in a circle and Jo explains a little bit about Laughter Yoga and the science (which is fascinating) behind it.

For example, most people have heard of endorphins, the body's natural happy drug.

Did you know, though , endorphins can help lower blood pressure, slow the onset of early Alzheimer's disease and are natural stress busters?

And one of the best ways to release endorphins into the body is through laughter... and it doesn't even have to be natural laughter, it can be faked. You still get the same benefits.  Graham Eden from Contempo Lettings who rents a desk with us and was roped in to the session, asked me sotto voce whether it was the same with an orgasm, but I didn't know.

So, picture the scene if you will.  We're in the conservatory bit of our office with four massive windows.  Or to put it another way: with no-where to hide: yes, those big windows you can see on the corner.

With people standing at the bus stop, driving and walking past all looking at us or trying to ignore what was going on.  The strange thing was, when they saw what we were doing, lots of them started smiling, too.

We're standing in a circle and Jo takes us through a series of exercise that all involve laughter... and singing and being silly.

So, for example, Jo wanted us to walk up to everyone else and (if they were a lady) say: 'You are the most incredible Goddess.'  If you were a bloke, it was the same, only 'You are the most incredible God.'  And in response we had to say 'Thank you.'

I have to say there was a fair bit of self consciousness to start with, not least from me, but think about it for a minute.  As Jo said, 'How many times do we pay others compliments, even when we see them doing something incredible (or even something just plain 'good')?  And then the other side of the coin, when we're paid a compliment, how often do we belittle it?

'You look great today!'  'No I don't, I look fat!'

Anyway, even though self consciousness was the name of the day it didn't 'alf get people giggling to be forced to walk up to a colleague and saying 'You really are the most incredible Goddess.'

There were several more exercises based around movement, breathing and laughing.  It has to be said, Andy was the star of the show.  Once Jo started him off he just couldn't stop himself laughing and we all followed suit.  His laughs were very big and very genuine... as he said afterwards: 'I love to laugh'.

I for one, would have thought Andy was a little less extrovert, so I'm really glad I got to see him chortling!

The upshot of all this were very many red faces in the office, quite a lot of pointing from passers by, but also an awful lot of laughing, too.  Some of it was even natural.

As a result I'm going to try laughing a little more... I might do it where no-where can see me to start with, though!

You can find out more about Jo and how she helps people by visiting her website: www.laughterforhealth.co.uk


Wednesday 14 May 2014

Travelodge

I have to say I'm a little fed up with Travelodge... not withstanding the fact that it's a fine institution for the traveller on a budget.

But this week, I've had my fill and I want to come home.

It's been a strange old week, even by my standards in that I seem to have travelled across most of the sound of England, which has been pleasant enough given the time of year.

I was up at three on Sunday morning to drive from Edinburgh to Lowestoft and I left in the light, which was nice.  It's my Dad's birthday next week and he wanted to take all of us out to the Chinese Buffet in Norwich.  The plan was I would then leave from Norwich to drive to Kidderminster this shortening my journey by about half an hour.

The plan worked out in almost every detail except one.  I left my wallet at my parent's house and so had to drive back to Lowestoft (which is as far east in Britain as you can get without falling off the edge) before coming back west to Kidderminster.

I was quite tired when I arrived at Travelodge, Kidderminster ( which is next to the Watermill pub).

Monday and Tuesday were delivery days at ChipsAway.  The two day business building programme was, shall we say, challenging and leave it at that.

Then it was into the car and down to Bedford for a coaching session before driving on to Travelodge, Cheshunt where I had pre-paid for my dinner.  My beef lasagne was microwaved to perfection (including the salad) and indeed was hot almost all the way through.

It was four miles up the road to Waltham Abbey the next morning for three more coaching sessions.  The first was scheduled for 10.30 and when it got to the appointed time and no-one had arrived I got a little suspicious.  I called the fella and was met with the classic response: 'Oh,was it today?'

Doh!

I emailed the organiser of the coaching sessions and received a three word response: 'That bloody man!'

Anyway two good coaching sessions happened and it was in the car onto the M25 and across the Dartford Crossing (where I sat for half an hour... although the view up the river was excellent in the sunshine) to Travelodge, Dorking.

This is my first visit to Dorking and the outskirts at least seem to be very nice.  Don't think I'm going to see too much more though.

By the way, by some strange twist of fate, the closest pub to Travelodge, Dorking also turns out to be called The Watermill.  Am I stuck is some strange Surrey based version of Groundhog Day?

Tomorrow morning it's back in the car for the trip to Redhill, three more coaching sessions and then the drive from Surrey to Edinburgh.

The funny things is, I've stayed in three Travelodges this week and I now have three emails asking me to complete a short questionnaire about my recent stay... one for each hotel.

My problem is that they're all indistinguishable from each other... which on another day, in another life would be a good thing.  Consistency, after all, is the name of the game!

Friday 18 April 2014

That Time of Year

It's been a funny old week really... but it is that time of year.

Although, I have to say, Easter seems to be a little different than usual.  Perhaps it's because it's a bit later than other years?  Who knows.

Anyway... as to why it's different.  Well, it's just so... busy.

It's really strange.  Not that it's busy but because the roads a re quieter like they always are during the holiday periods but I can't actually work out who's off work.

I called Teresa Jackson from www.icomplete.com earlier and asked tentatively whether she was working.  She sounded generally surprised.  'Of course!  Why wouldn't I be?'

Well, because it's Good Friday sprung to mind but I kept stum.

I subbed at a BNI meeting this morning and the room was packed... there were a few people on holiday but they'd all managed to get substitutes and business was passed.

And then it dawned on me.  I really do think the recovery is taking proper hold.  People seem to be doing business more and more and confidence is returning.  It's even manifested itself to us in the TaxAssist business here in Corstorphine.

January is usually our busiest month in terms of work completed, new customers signed and cash generated.  In 2014, January was as ballistic as it always is... perhaps even more so.  But what's really extraordinary is that March has been just as busy as January; at least in terms of new customers who have joined us.

It's brilliant.

Long may it continue is what I say, but I have a hint of nervousness about it, too.  Me saying it's the long awaited recovery is simply that... Me saying it.  I have no proof of what I'm saying, just a feeling.

What if it's something else?

I don't think it is, but what if it is?

As you can see, my self doubt has reached a crescendo so I need your help.

Can you see the recovery happening?  Is business on the up or is it just because the sun is shining and it's a bit warmer that I'm looking at the world with rose tinted glasses?

Answers on a post card from the beach would be good.

Thursday 3 April 2014

Some Days

Do you ever find some days... well, trying?

You know the sort of day I'm talking about: nothing seems to go right, everything seems to go wrong and you end up doing nothing that you expected and your production is much lower than you hoped for (or indeed, needed).

As you can probably tell, I had one of those days the other day.

First of all, it was raining and as the woofer still needs to, errr, do his thing it was off up Corstorphine Hill for me... I got wet.  The same thing happened at lunch time, although this time I did have the rather large TaxAssist umbrella with me.

In the meantime, though, back in the office, at about 10.15 there went up a shout: there's a leak!

A river would have been more accurate.  And the be fair to the builder, he was out like a shot to find out what was what.  Of course it couldn't be fixed there and then but he did come back the next day to sort things out for us... still, quite a lot of water did come in, soaking carpet and doggy blanket.

The shout at 10.15 was followed by a shout at 10.16... I can't read attachments on my emails.

OMG so some investigatory work revealed that our email system had gone tits up and was quarantining all attachments cos it thought they were dodgy.

The only way to get them back was for IT Support to do some jiggery pokery and send all the attachments to me for onward distribution.  There were 1,029 of them!

Next shout came at 10.27:  My email's not working at all.

Oh, bloody hell... ring IT Support yourself.  Here, I have to say, we have a confession.  We were blaming IT Support for our emails not coming through correctly.  Actually, it turned out that we'd out a rule on our system that diverted emails with a certain word in them to a different folder!

Sorry!

By the time I'd worked through that little lot it was 6.30pm and time to start the day's work, so that's what I did before walking home, where my very patient parents were waiting because they're up from Darn Sarth to visit for the week.

Hmmm... I'm sure they're having a wonderful time.

But this blog is going to end in a different way than I intended.

I'm in McDonalds, Oldbury, near Birmingham writing this.

I'd eaten my double sausage and egg McMuffin and had a cup of latte already (well, I am on a health kick) and was just thinking that I needed to move on because I was being a bit cheeky sitting here for an hour.

But the guy who had been walking about, cleaning tables and emptying bins just brought me a second cup of latte, without asking and for free!

So you see, none of the crap that happened the day before matters... everything will be all right in the end.

And if it isn't alright, it isn't the end.

Friday 28 March 2014

A funny old week

I don't know about you but this week seems to have lasted forever but at the same time has flown by.

How can that be?

As an aside, does anyone else think that 2014 is flying past rather too quickly, what with the clocks going forward Sunday morning and it being April on Tuesday?

After the speed that 2012 flew by I said to Renee, 'We just have to slow down 2013.'

She just looked at me as though I was some kind of idiot.  'Are you some kind of idiot?' Asked she. 'It's October!'

This week started on Monday morning (predictably) with a early alarm call - up at 4.00am to get down to Northampton as part of the team delivering the final module of a management development programme.

The other facilitator was going to be there at 8.00am and I was going to get there for 9.30... 5 hours is about right for the trip down from Edinburgh.

Hmmm... not on Monday it wasn't.  The Thelwell Viaduct was stationary for an hour and I was bustin' for a wee the whole time.

Here's another aside and you may want to skip this paragraph if you are in any way easily offended.

How much liquid is there in an average wee?  I've never measured it or even really thought about it, to be honest.  I did on Monday morning though, because the Costa Coffee takeaway cup was almost pressed into action.  In fact, it was so close I was even considering the logistics of it all...

Anyway, I eventually made it to Northampton at 10.30am.  The course went off without a hitch and it was back up the road on Tuesday night.  Here's a thing: the journey was exactly the same in reverse.  An hour stationary, on the M1 this time.

I have to say I'm not a massive football follower but I've started listening to football commentary of Radio 5 Live.  On Tuesday it was Manchester United vs Manchester City and I was just thinking to myself that I rarely hear a goal on the radio when City scored - 43 seconds in to the game!

Wednesday it was farewell drinks with Margaret at the White Lady here in Corstorphine.  I left after a couple of pints and walked Barney home.  Renee got home... later.  But still, I have to say, made it to BNI on Thursday morning.

Thursday evening was our first networking event here in the shop... everything seemed to go well and we had three brilliant presentations from @joworrall, Alan Johnston and @Grow_potential.  Here's Alan Johnston practising his Power Pose...


Brilliant.

All good stuff.

So, it's Friday.

I had 4 meetings lined up today (including an interview with a potential new member of staff) all of which got cancelled.

The new member of staff sent me an email which said, (something like) 'I'm not coming 'cos I've got an interview for a job I really want.'

I mean, I ask you...

To wrap the week up it's off to friends in Livi tonight.  I really hope it's not a late one!

So what I mean; it's been helluvva week and my parents are up next week... and Renee and I have to go to Birmingham and we have a new member of staff starting and we're getting work done on the shop...

Tuesday 11 March 2014

The Gibson Hotel, Dublin

Do you know what?

There's so much to write about this week, I don't know where to start... so I'll start where I am right now.

That's the Gibson Hotel, in Dublin, just next to the Irish O2... where Beyonce is playing for the next two nights.  Quiet my stay ain't.

Anyway, The Gibson is a great hotel; it's modern but quirky and I love that.  For example, there a very lifelike model of a sheep in reception (which is on the 3rd floor) looking down at the floor and reading a newspaper.



Last time I stayed here was back in September 2013.  There's a really good restaurant called the Coda Eatery and the company I work for are kind enough to put me on a dinner, B and B package.

The issue is that the nice restaurant doesn't open on a Monday night and, if you're on the dinner package, you're left with something called the HemiDemiSemiQuaver Bar... and I'm not kidding.

The HSDQ Bar only Thai food which is okay except every dish has prawns or noodles in it and I don't like prawns or noodles.  So I asked if I could order something from the Room Service menu and have it delivered to the bar.

This was met with a flat no so I had to slink off to my room and eat on my own like a sad git.

At the end of my stay I was given a feedback form and I mentioned the incident on the form.  A couple of days later I got a call from the General Manager asking for more details.  He agreed with me that to deliver Room Service to the bar wasn't a big issue and he apologised.  'Next you stay with us', says he, 'let me know and I'll sort you out a couple of drinks.'

Okay, fair play... situation closed in my mind.

So I'm back at The Gibson and had forgotten the problem I had and I certainly didn't make myself known to claim my free drinks.  But as I checked in the receptionist really surprised me: 'Welcome back, Mr Lambert.  I know you had a bit of a problem last time you were here so please accept a complimentary upgrade and some drinks vouchers.'

Aha... this is more like it, thinks I.  Brilliant service recovery, fantastic systems, expertly delivered.

So, I have a suite a 4 vouchers for drinks.

I ventured down tot he bar on Monday night for my dinner... after all, if they've listened to my feedback surely they would have done something about Room Service being delivered HSDQ.

'Can I order something from Room Service?'

'No, sorry you can't.'

More drinks for me at my next stay?

Thursday 6 March 2014

Maternity Leave and The Law

Now I have to say we're pretty hot on the ol' HR Law but I was so shocked by a recent discovery that I had to get it checked out by several highly reputable sources.

This particular aspect of HR law covers maternity leave.  Personally I think Maternity Leave is a brilliant thing and we have a number of people working part time for us; returning to work after starting a family.  

However, they weren't working for us when they were pregnant so my knowledge and experience of Maternity Leave isn't that extensive...

Let me explain the situation.

We had a lady (predictably) working with us who was having a baby.  Come the appropriate moment she went off on Statutory Maternity Leave.  We continued to pay her but claimed back via National Insurance.

So, six months passed and we asked our member of staff about her intentions and she said she wanted to extend her Maternity Leave to the full year.

Okay, not ideal, but not much we could do about it.

The year was almost up so we got in touch again about coming back... now here's where I entered uncharted territory for me.

The lady asked to come back part time... fine.  But the part time hours didn't match our business needs.  The request to come back part time is officially known as a request for Flexible Working.  Because it didn't match business needs we were fully entitled to reject the request, which we did.

Of course, this being the law in general and HR law in particular there were standard letters and processes to be followed which we did to the letter.

The upshot of all this was that our lady handed in her notice... all amicable and everyone was happy.  Or, if not happy, then at least accepting!

Here comes the bit I had to get checked out and although I believe the advice I was given implicitly, I just don't believe it.

Deep breath and I'll say it quickly so I don't wind myself up.

All the time our lady was on Maternity Leave she was accruing holidays at the same rate as though she was still working for us.

She had a year off so was entitled to 28 days paid leave... and we had to pay it.  More than £2k.

The cynical part of me wonders whether this lady knew this and was playing us all along for a nice £2,000 bonus.  The philosophical part simple says, 'well, them's the rules.'  The realistic part of me thinks it's just not fair and this must be a loophole and the hopeful part of me thinks that the advice I've received from three independent sources can't possibly right.

Can it?

If anyone can tell me that the advice is wrong and actually I can claim that holiday pay back, please get in touch!

Wednesday 26 February 2014

Hi-De-Hi

We were on holiday recently and a very welcome break it was, too.

Sun, sea, sand and other words that begin with 'S... I was thinking about 'sleeping'.  What were you thinking?

I know the hol was needed because we spent the first three days asleep.  Our routine for those first days was quite simple: get up early and go to the gym for 7.00am.  Breakfast followed by a morning sleep on a sun lounger.  Maybe a spot of lunch before climbing back on to the sun lounger until about 5.00pm before going back to our room for a snooze.  Dinner, then in bed for 9.30pm!

Of course, even though we were on holiday, I felt a bit guilty about the absolute level of inactivity we achieved over the first few days, but consoled myself by working really hard at doing nothing.

It was kind of a strange holiday for us.  Usually we do adventurous stuff like climbing Kilimanjaro, or at least active breaks; changing locations, doing internal flights and that sort of thing.

This time round we were very much holidaymakers, staying in one place with all our needs catered for on an All Inclusive basis.

I have to say, that it struck home that we were having a 'different' experience when Renee Tweeted that 'We've escaped Colditz and left the hotel grounds!'

Hmmm...

It wasn't until later in the first week when we'd sufficiently recovered to sample to 'entertainment' put on by the hotel that I realised I was on a proper holiday.

This particular evening's entertainment involved that world famous bastion of entertainment: Karaoke.

Needless to say the Entertainment Team (I have to say that I will always worry in the future if I end up in an hotel with an 'Entertainment Team') was struggling to get people to join in.  However, I had to smile (behind a raised hand and an incredulous look on my face) when the 'Ambassador of Fun' - genuinely, I'm not joking, that's what he called himself - said:

'I used to work at Sandals and I never had this much trouble getting people to join in there.  This has been the most difficult night I've had at Smugglers Cove.  How can you be having fun if you're not joining in?'

Renee leaned over to me and whispered, 'Come on, let's go.  I didn't pay lots of money for this holiday to be part of the entertainment!'

As a side note about the Entertainment Team: there was a house band called the Smugglers Roots Band and they were actually pretty good.  Although every night at dinner we would be served by the keyboard player and the drummer mixed a pretty decent Rum Punch!

After the Karaoke night we decided that it would be best to avoid the in-house entertainment, although during the second week we did start going more often just so we could be outraged and shocked at amateurish nature of Limbo Fire: The Best Limbo Dancers in the East Caribbean and the Salsa Experience.  I have to say, though, the absolute nadir of the entertainment was the Mr & Mrs gameshow held on Valentines night!

Pure solid entertainment gold!

So, after the very long preamble, we get to the moral of the story.  We're a service provider and to get our customers to do things for themselves is a bit like getting them to perform karaoke... so we don't do it!  Give us your accounts to look after and we'll do just that.

There you go - got there in the end.

As a last word, I have to say I really enjoyed my holiday.  After the first three days hibernating we found a mountain to climb called Gros Piton and I learned to water-ski, sail a catamaran and play tennis... much more like it!


Saturday 25 January 2014

Messing with Richard's Mind

Richard is a strange kind of bloke: a place for everything and everything in its place is his motto.

Well, it isn't really, but it could be.

He can't leave anything out at home, it has to be put away and the guys in the office can't leave anything on his desk.  In fact, Richard doesn't even let himself leave anything on his desk unless he's working on it.

You see what we mean: odd.

But he's even odder than that.  Once he was out with Renee and they parked their car where they shouldn't.  They didn't realise this but the lovely Traffic Wardens did and the car got towed away.  When they came back to where they had left the car Richard's first thought wasn't: oh dear, my car has been towed or maybe stolen.  No, it was: OMG our car's gone invisible.

Anyway, Richard has a watch.

A very nice watch it is, too.  His mum and dad bought it for his 40th birthday.  It's got hands and a knob on the side to adjust the time and date.  The watch has worked perfectly for five years, all bar one change of battery.

Yesterday (24th January) Richard knew the date was correct because he'd been signing off tax returns with customers and had checked his watch when he was asked to confirm the day.  He also knew the watch was telling the right time when he went to bed at 11.30... cos he looked at his watch.

So explain how, if you would, when he looked at his watch at 7.30am the next morning it was all to cock.

And it wasn't because the watch had simply stopped working because the battery had run out: the second hand was still merrily clicking it's way around the face.  No, it's much more sinister than that.  Here's a list of what was wrong:


  • The date now said Tuesday 2nd.  (Today is Saturday)
  • It had changed to the French version (i.e. it said MAR 2, instead of TUE 2)
  • The time was 11.54 according to the watch, but the second had was still turning and the watch was working fine
How could this possibly be?

Richard came up with 4 theories:

  1. Renee changed his watch in order to mess with his mind
  2. Barney changed his watch in order to mess with this mind
  3. He'd been abducted by aliens and lost 11 months and 22 days and it's actually 2015
  4. An external (probably paranormal) influence had worked on his watch
Let's look at each of these theories in turn so we can really assess how odd Richard actually is.  Here we go:

  1. Why?
  2. Difficult, Barney has paws not hands and he doesn't have an opposable thumb
  3. Renee would have probably noticed he'd been gone and would have mentioned that fact
  4. Refer to 1
Okay, so Richard's theories are clearly the wild imaginings of a deranged being who has almost completed his first January working in an accountancy practice... but that doesn't alter the fact that something happened to his watch.

By the way, since he changed his watch back tot he correct settings more than 8 hours ago it's worked perfectly.

Any ideas post them on our Facebook page: the more bizarre the better... because, of course, it will mess with Richard's mind.

Wednesday 22 January 2014

I'm ahead... for the first time in my life

Richard was working with a client 'darn sarth' earlier in the week.

It was rush job so the only hotel he could get in to was a Travelodge... but it was okay, it was a new one!

He'd been over the road for his tea - (Two for One and the Marstons Inn) and was coming back into the Travelodge.

The foyer wasn't a particularly nice place - very small, locked door, security screen for the receptionist, that sort of thing.  But there was a vending machine and the Double Deckers caught Richard's eye.

'Hang it all,' he thought, 'I haven't had one for ages, I'm having a Double Decker.'

80 pence it was and Richard happened to have a pound coin in his pocket.  He put the coin into the slot, made his selection and the chocolate bar dropped into the tray, shortly followed by a clunk as his change was dispensed.

He retrieved his chocolate bar and then scooped the coin (which he assumed was a 20 pence piece) out of its receptacle.  Imagine his delight when it turned out to be the very same pound coin he'd put in just a few seconds earlier.

It was a real Fawlty Towers moment.  'I'm ahead,' he crooned to himself, 'For the first time in my life, I'm ahead.'

The he surreptitiously hid the coin and slinked up to his room, all the time expecting the receptionist to clamp a hand on to his shoulder and demand that he paid for the Double Decker.

Later, when he'd calmed down, Richard was reflecting on his good fortune and how good it made him feel... after all, it was such a tiny thing to have such a big impact.

But it's true of customers interactions, too.  Little things = Big things in the minds' of customers.  It's the little touches that people remember and so Richard resolved to get better at the little things which have the largest impact.

Not that he's going to buy everyone a Double Decker!

Monday 13 January 2014

Of teeth and telephones

Happy New Year to you all,

It's been a funny old start to 2014 even beyond the usual madness of January and the tax return season... which I'll come on to later.

Let's start with dentists... yes, dentists.

It has to be said that I didn't know I had any dental issues and I'm still not 100% sure that I have.  The Hygienist was very sceptical as she went through a long list of potential symptoms that I think I should have been experiencing:

    'Pain in your gums?'  No
    'Sensitivity to cold?'  No
    'Sensitivity to warmth?'  Nope
    'Pangs?'  Was that 'pangs?  'Yes'.  No
    'Bleeding?'  No
    'Does this hurt?'  Along came a jab with a sharp implement.  Not really
    'Ah!  Numbness!'

Anyway, apparently I was suffering from pockets for which the cure was three visits to the Hygienist to have these pockets scraped of bad stuff so that good stuff could grow in its place... at least that's how it was explained to me.

I don't have a dentist-phobia so actually the sessions apart from the occasional scrape weren't too bad and were actually quiet relaxing - half an hour laying on my back with not much to think about!

But the point I was getting to was an argument the Hygienist had with her assistant.

When I first lay down in the chair I thought the surgery was pretty hot, but of course, I didn't say anything.  A few minutes after she started the Hygienist said to her assistant: 'We're going to have to turn down the heating... It's stifling in here.'

Hear, hear thinks I.

But she got an argument.

'But I'm cold!'

'Well, you can leave the room.'

At which point I managed to mumble with (with two pairs of hands wedged firmly in me mouth) 'You can borrow my number if you like.'

I could have been scarcely intelligible but I was completely understood and I was faced with a somewhat tight lipped smile and a 'no thanks!'

Five minutes later the heating was turned back up!

Now, it has to be said our new office is fairly cold on account of the whacking great hole in the window that was put there by a delinquent just before Christmas.  On our snagging list one of the team decided to write 'It's freezing cold!'

To me that's not snagging and so my response was - put a jumper on!

About the move to the new office - thanks for asking - for the most part it's gone really smoothly and even IT was pretty good.  In fact, our IT guys (sortmypc.co.uk) are absolute geniuses.

They had to do a bit of fancy jiggery pokery with routers and telephones. 

At one point he telephone rang and Angus (sortmypc.co.uk) shouted across the office 'I take it because the 'phones are ringing they're working?'


See what I mean.  A real IT guru!

Welcome to 2014!