spangle pants

A few years ago I had a fairly flash job where I had to do a lot of networking & supposedly do a lot of presentations to high profile buyers. I hated presentations & managed to get around this by taking my clients out constantly & treating them to posh meals & drinks all on expenses in exchange for sales. I was raking in commission & having a whale of a time.

One Friday, just before the end of the day my boss casually mentioned that he’d set up a big meeting with one of my buyer’s companies on Monday morning, & I’d be presenting. I was due to go to a mate’s birthday do, & I inevitably got totally wasted. Cut to Sunday evening, we’re all in tatters having been caning it since Friday & it starts sinking in that I’ve got that fucking meeting tomorrow. Panicked conversations ensue throwing up more and more outlandish ways to wriggle or of it without chucking a sickie.

Monday comes. I am totally hanging & I am shitting it. I start to set up in the buyer’s offices, where 500+ people are arriving at work. I keep looking at the clock. half hoping my mate will come good on his suggestion & half hoping he doesn’t. 9am passes & I resign myself to the fact that in probably going to have to jibber my way through this horror when suddenly a perky receptionist arrives to tell us we need to evacuate as there’s been a bomb scare.

The whole building is evacuated for maybe 3 hours while a bomb squad clears the area. The scale of this was fucking enormous… & all because I went out and got shitfaced on a Friday night…