They are my work customer.
It will last three hours.
By 5pm the muscles in my face will be aching from all the fake smiling.
I will have chortled sincerely at all the minor jokes.
I will have guffawed – uproariously – at any comment which is meant to be funny.
I will have worn my super-sincere ‘I want to help’ face.
I will have used words like ‘synergy’ ; and expressions like ‘growing our business in this strategic relationship’.
I will be hoping that my boss doesn’t promise that I will do extra things for the client without forewarning me.
I will be hoping that they don’t bring and unexpected list of open issues for which they require time specified resolutions – I have a tendency to promise too much, just to keep things moving and to avoid scrutiny.
I will be cringing and dying inside, at every false promise I make – there’s an etiquette here – you can promise the world in theory – real life delivery of said promise is another matter. I know this. They know this. But the tango continues.
At least there will be a fish supper in a ritzy seafood restaurant later this evening. At the refreshingly early hour of 6.30pm.
An earlier dining time than one to which I am accustomed. At least this means I will be cocooned up in my lair at 9pm and don’t have to extend this evening of unentertainment to an unacceptably late hour.