The Mood Changer.

It's amazing the power it has on us all. I always thought the theory of something you consumed could change your character or mood so much, but it does. It's only as I get older that I'm beginning to enjoy it more.

What is this miraculous product? It's chocolate.

Chocolate had been scientifically tested for the impact it has on us. These range from supporting cardiovascular health to showing a reduced risk of certain types of cancer. Of course, the type of chocolate you consume has differing medical benefits. Best for your heart and body is dark chocolate with a high level of cocoa of 70% plus. It's a bit bitter, but so good for you.

These benefits are well researched and I wish I had been involved as a test subject in one of these studies. One study involved men and women melting chocolate in their mouths. These lucky people were hooked up to all manner of analytical machines. They found out that chocolate races your heart a little faster and gave an increase in brain activity. Nothing alarming there, but they also measured the long term effects it had compared to another activities that also races the heart. They compared the satisfaction of eating chocolate to kissing. Melting chocolate in your mouth was found to have a far more intense sensation by up to four times than that of kissing. That sounds like a terrible day at work - eating chocolate and kissing people.

Another study in the USA was on the impact it has on headaches. They found out that the increased daily intake of chocolate reduced the symptoms of migraines. Talk about it being brain food! The same study also stated that regular dark chocolate consumption showed a modest reduction in blood pressure.

Survivors of heart attacks were tested too. They found that those who consumed chocolate two or three times a week reduced their risk of death by up to three times than those who didn't eat any chocolate. Like hello? Why would you not eat chocolate to reduce your risk of actually dying? Unless you were actually allergic, of course.

One Swiss study tested a group of smokers. Twenty smokers were each given 40 grams of chocolate and told to go away and enjoy it. The scientists then hooked each person up to an echo-cardiogram machine to measure their blood flow two hours after consumption. They found that their echo graphs showed that black chocolate with a cocoa content of 74% or more dramatically improved their blood flow. They tested the smokers as they would have narrower valves than those who didn't smoke.


By-products of chocolate are also beneficial. Another USA study was on chocolate milk and they tested athletes post exercise. They gave one group your atypical high carbohydrate sports drink and the other group low fat chocolate milk - all with the same amount of calories. They found out after just one week, that the chocolate milk speeded up muscle recovery twice as fast as the sports drink.

One final study was concerning the link of chocolate consumption to intelligence. We all feel more empowered after eating a square of chocolate. Nobel prizes are awarded each year to the brightest and most imaginative of minds all around the world. Who has the most Nobel winners per capita in the world? And who has the highest per capita consumption of chocolate in the world? The answer to both questions is Switzerland.

So go out there and get some chocolate into you. As many of it's long term benefits far outweigh the negatives of putting on a few pounds.


I suddenly feel peckish. How about a Kit Kat and a cup of tea?

 

 

 

Deflating a Male Stereotype.

Yesterday morning, over breakfast in London, I changed my thinking about a particular set of people and the perception that we all have about them. I was advised by one of my work colleagues to visit a cafe on the Kensington High Street.

We all have this image of the site construction man - he is a gruff, fall out of bed, unshaven Neanderthal man who barely has respect for himself or others. He wolf whistles at passing ladies and has never heard of wearing a belt to keep his trousers up. He eats the breakfast roll stuffed with sausages and bacon while the ketchup drips down the front of his hi-viz jacket. And he doesn't wipe it off.


The media portray this type of working man as semi-educated - he swills beer at lunchtime with his pork pie. They work hard and they play hard. They display the farmer's tan in summertime and stick to working nine to five.

This establishment had everything you could possibly think of for breakfast. I entered, with only one other table occupied. Within fifteen minutes, the place was full of hard hats and orange jackets.



I was surrounded by approximately a dozen workmen. My preconception was what may come out of their mouths might be uncouth, sexist and chauvinistic. It was anything but any of those notions.

After all of these men had ordered their food, a young beautiful woman walked in and sat at the only remaining table - a small two seated table in amongst all the men. They barely even glanced at her. I found this utterly remarkable.

As I enjoyed my breakfast, I took a quick glance around at what the men were eating. They ate toast, cereal, fruit and muesli. Some ate poached eggs while others ate scrambled. They ate wholemeal bread. They chatted quietly without being anyway raucous.


They read papers that didn't fit the stereotype of the building site male. No sensationalist tabloids here - they read The Times, The I and The Guardian. No Daily Sport or Sun.

Their conversations were the most surprising. They talked about five-a-side football leagues and getting to bed early. They talked about religion and attending church more often. Others talked passionately about their children and the cute things infants, do and say. They even talked about the stock market and buying and selling shares.

They also chatted about the one thing everyone talks about - the recession. They came up with their versions of how to solve it in the short term and long term. They were far more informed than I was.

Not at any stage were they ignorant. If anything, they were the most polite men I had the pleasure to encounter yesterday - and I met many men afterwards, in over-priced suits that were far ruder. Your clothing is definitely not necessarily an indicator to someones personality.

And did I mention that I was the only one in the cafe - eating the full English breakfast??

 

 

 

 

Breakfast Noise.

We barely had a need to speak to each other. Such was the noise and entertainment levels around us.

 

I suggested to my wife, that we brave the icy air and walk ten minutes to one of my favourite breakfast eateries in Chicago. The gush of warm air as we entered was a pleasant welcome from the frigid gale blowing outside. This pancake house is famous in the city and the tables are packed quite closely together. You have no option but to hear your neighbour's conversations.

We had just taken our first sips of coffee when we overheard the fraught negotiations over photographs on our left. The photographer, a man in his fifties, was trying to sell professionally taken pictures of the young man opposite him. They were of the young student's graduation, and he was deciding on which one to send home to his parents. This student like any other around the world – he was high on confidence but low on funds.

Then the noise volume of the restaurant suddenly became amplified.


On our right sat two young ladies with a two year old boy. They swapped stories and drank fruit juices. The little boy was like any other two year old – rambunctious and full of chat. Except the more he shouted, the less attention he received. The two ladies were only there to talk to each other – minding the child seemed to be a little inconvenient for them.

We thought that one of these ladies must be the mother of the child. But neither showed anything remotely like love, for the young boy. Then it hit us – they were Au pairs. That explained the reason why the main topic of conversation between them - was about young men!

The surround sound was complete with two other women sitting behind us. The dynamic was similar yet different here. It was of an elderly lady and her impatient daughter. The old lady was hard of hearing and the daughter revelled in pointing out her mother’s deficiencies. The daughter patronised her at every opportunity and genuinely seemed to get her kicks from putting her down.

Every diner moved their steely gaze of ‘shut up I’m trying to eat my breakfast in peace here’ from the two year old, to the snotty daughter. I could see faces around me look at the old lady with pity in their eyes. They needed not have worried. There was venom in her tongue and she was holding it back in reserve. She knew how to deal with the bully in front of her.

As our food arrived, the bitching between mother and daughter continued. The elderly lady, despite her age, had a very good appetite. She ordered eggs, bacon, home fries and toast. The daughter protested at her ordering such a substantial breakfast, saying she was only thinking of her heart. In truth, she was saying that because she didn't want to wait around. The uninterested daughter guzzled her coffee and two small slices of rye toast in an effort to hurry her mother up.

Then we had a standoff.

The daughter was sick of waiting for her mother. She undermined her ability to cut up her food and grabbed the knife and fork from her. She stated that she eaten enough and asked for the cheque.

While her daughter was distracted, the mother simply leaned over to another adjoining table and grabbed another set of cutlery. By the time the daughter looked back at her she was shovelling another large slice of bacon into her mouth. We tried our best to stifle the laughs.

But the final, loud, all-involving, insult was coming.

“You’re gonna have to eat something before we come to the pancake house the next time. We have a doctor’s appointment and you’re going to be late!”

We sat open mouthed at this vile, ignorant comment. Why would someone have to eat before they came to a restaurant? But this elderly lady was made of stern stuff.

“Ah shut the hell up! I’m enjoying my breakfast and that doctor isn’t going anywhere! He’s seen me for thirty years and I’m always late. And you sure as hell aren’t going to pick up the tab here!”

Everyone in the diner was short of clapping her response.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Diner Envy.

What is it about human nature that invokes such a strong emotion as jealousy? To be envious for no apparent reason - to someone you don't even know or have never met before - seems odd to me. That kind of negative thinking is either built within you from birth, or takes several years of mistrust and bad influence to grow and fester. Like someone seeing a glass as half empty rather than the other way around.

Last night my wife and I, went for dinner to a favourite restaurant haunt of ours. We know the staff well enough to call ourselves regulars. We are creatures of habit, and normally go for the same dinner and drinks every time. The food is excellent and the service is very good. We always sit at the bar for quick service and to chat to the staff - who are always friendly.

Along the bar, the turnover of people coming and going in this establishment, is high. People come in on their own, have one drink and a bite to eat and are gone within 30 minutes. Others have a drink at the bar, whilst waiting for their tables to be vacated by other diners. It's a hive of activity - and a great place to people watch.

But sometimes you don't have to look too far to spot a negative character. Body language can give it away - long before a word is uttered. And when this body language displays all the characteristics of one of the seven deadly sins, everyone starts to walk a little more gingerly around such negativity.

Over my right shoulder last night, I could sense the begrudgery as he sat down. He took an age to take off his long black coat, scarf and gloves and drape them over his high stool. He almost knocked over three plates a server was delivering to a nearby table, as he swooshed his coat off. He tutted as the server finally got by.

His stool was more than two feet away from mine, yet he still managed to brush off me as his bottom made contact with the leather cushion of the stool. And he wasn't a big man. No apology was forthcoming, and this gave me an indication of what kind of character was now sitting beside us. My wife copped it too, yet we said nothing. We see these people on a regular basis.

His bar server was quick to meet and greet him, yet she got little more than a grunt from him. Muted one word answers were his norm. His shoulders sagged and his elbows propped him up on the bar counter. Bad manners and posture afflicted him too.

His server found it difficult to understand him from less than five feet away. Irritation entered his voice at repeating his order of "Bloody Mary" - which sounded more like "Blah Mar". We determined quickly enough that he wasn't a man who depended on his communication skills to get by in life.

While we waited for our food, we chatted with two of the servers behind the bar. They had time to do their jobs and still be courteous and polite to everyone.

Then we felt a stare. Like we were monopolising the servers with our chat. For a man that could barely communicate seconds earlier, he was now eager to order his food.

He had spent about five minutes reading the menu and ignoring the servers. As soon as they were interacting with us, he wanted attention. He struck me as a man who was used to others waiting on him. He was impatient and regularly interrupted others. God forbid he had to wait.

Then came the bitchy, snide comment. Our server asked if he was now ready to order. Two of them has asked him at least once each, if he was ready. He never had the decency to even look up as someone spoke to him.

"While you two were too busy talking, your other colleague took my order."

Our server, well experienced and quick as a flash - put him back in his place.

"Oh really sir? What did you order?"

"Prawns and bisque."

"Great choice! The prawns are excellent. How is your Bloody Mary? Would you like another?"

This time she got half a smile. She didn't even acknowledge his attitude and rose above his level of negativity - this seemed to bring slight appreciation from him. He had baited her with a put down, but she spotted it and complimented him back.

He was looking for a snarly response but she was far more professional than he would ever be. He slurped his soup and left shortly after. No one was entertaining him. Everyone along the bar appreciated his departure. Even the faces of the servers looked relieved. His disposition was draining.

The man was envious of people having a bright and positive personality - something he never obviously possessed.
 

 

 

New York, New York.

So good they named it twice. I'd forgotten how amazing this city is. It is truly, jaw dropping. I wondered why my sister and her new husband chose New York as their honeymoon destination initially - but now I understand. This city tests and tries you on so many levels.

It's been about five or six months since I was last in this great city. I promise not to leave it as long until the next time I frequent. It's not just the noise and the neon lights - it's the assault on the senses. It's the level of intimacy with the locals and the famous attitude they possess.

The noise, no matter where you stay in New York, is never ending. For those of you that ever wish to visit Manhattan and want a quiet holiday - don't bother coming here. It's Noise City Central. The sirens roar at all times of the night, no matter where you are sleeping. I remember trying to sleep on the twenty fourth floor of a hotel about two years ago - it was located next to an emergency ward - I may as well have been working in it as being 24 floors above it.

The smells of the city are equally as invasive. I do remember my first trip here almost fifteen years ago. You can get a disgusting odour one second and then an enticing, alluring smell the next. The concentration of businesses and competing shop owners is full-on. They all want your business, and will do anything to entice you into their shop or to their stall. Would you blame them really? They want your business.

One thing you can taste for free is the underground. Or the Subway, as they call it in New York. I'm reliably informed that this is where the sandwich shop franchise of the same name, was taken from. If you pass over any one of the grilles on the street in the city, you are liable to get a blast of hot, smelly, rustic air. The kind of air you want to cough back out of your lungs. It's no wonder that many residents and visitors avoid even walking over them - even though they are safe to do so. It's just because they are smelly - no other reason really.

One taste that everyone must do is the streetside vendor hot-dog. You might think that these are seriously dodgy health-wise and to avoid at all costs. But no! I actually encourage this! This is the ultimate complete New York experiment that everyone should enjoy. I remember my brother-in-law eating six of these in one day alone - and he's still alive.

I jest of course - he actually ate seven and paid for all seven for himself. And paid for my seven too - it was his first visit to the USA and he wanted to pay. Neither of us had belly ache that nigh. True story.

The views of New York from wherever you are standing are simply stunning. Whether you are taking a picture of the Meat Packing District, Greenwich Village or any of the 59 districts inside the five boroughs of New York - you aren't going to take a picture of any city like this one. Each district and borough has unique perspectives and perceptions from behind a camera lens, that no other area in the world can offer.

Some people might find New York a bit rough around the edges. A trip to a city that may not be "quite their taste." It may be the personality of the people, the noise of the streets or the proximity to other people in close quarters. If that's your preference, go to Alaska or the Southern Arctic. Penguins will absolutely love you there. Polar bears will eye you with salt and pepper as they lick their lips.

Believe me when I say that New Yorkers have their full sense of entitlement and empowerment back in abundance. Their confidence in themselves had taken a knock over the past ten years or so, but it is now fully reinstalled. I got major attitude from a stall seller this evening, when I didn't tip him on a $3 bottle of water. He really expected a tip for passing me a small bottle of water! From a stationary mobile fridge! Really?

That's one of the reasons I really like New York. They contain a certain cynicism and sarcasm that other most US states don't possess. The have the ability to converse with the outside world (outside of the USA) in a way that is unique. You could nearly say that they speak, like Europeans. After all, this city's personality is based on the attitudes and cultures of all European nations.

No wonder they get sarcasm - that's maybe why I like them so much.

Judged.

It's Christmas Eve and I thought I'd share a funny story. This happened last Thursday evening and it was only whilst discussing it last night, that we realised how funny the situation was. And people judged us to damnation with their eyes.

I was off work last Thursday and wanted to finish my Christmas shopping. Along with my wife and her sister, we went shopping locally to purchase our last few bits. My wife wanted to cut through a large relatively cut-price department store, to get to the main shopping centre.

On passing small Christmas gift bags, my wife commented on how nice and inexpensive they were to her sister. They had stopped - I had lost them mentally. They were distracted and in a shopping daze.

Gradually ushering them toward the exit and into the main shopping mall, they hesitated again. The rather awful Christmas jumper section had caught their eyes. Then I retold a story of how one of my best friends had stated to me the previous day, that he had found it difficult to find a decent Christmas jumper.

Little did I know - that I had been swallowed by the magic and allure of the department store. The Christmas music was also lulling me into the festive period, playing in the background.

I texted my mate telling him how great the selection was in this particular store. Then my sister-in-law suggested something that nearly made me fall over with laughter.

"Why don't we buy our Christmas day outfits here? And have a competition to see who can pick out the most disgusting one?"

I thought my wife would veto her mad plan, but she quickly agreed. I was totally in. I had spotted an awful jumper. I was confident of winning this test. And then the judging began.

The stern looks. The disapproving stares. The shaking of the heads. The way in which I laughed at something (which I thought was rotten) that others found fashionable. You can't hide that level of disapproval to a stranger. That made me laugh harder if I'm honest.

I know these large department stores hire store buyers that have their fingers on the pulse of fashion. They watch fashion trends and fashion houses to see "what's hot and what's not." But once I had spent five minutes in the awful, but beautiful itchy jumper section, everything seemed funny looking.

We split up and went our own ways picking up items for our Christmas day outfits. I picked up a rotten mustard jumper complete with brown elbow pads. It looked like wallpaper that hung on your parent's living room walls in years gone by.

I had decided to continue the 1970's look. So I bought tight, bright green trousers. Then continuing the theme, I picked up an orange hat, maroon socks and a large thick blue and red scarf. Feeling happy with myself and searching for the ladies, I thought I had chosen the perfect outfit. When we met up again ten minutes later, we laughed hard. My competition amongst the ladies was real tough.

My wife went for something akin to an outfit directly from the Roddy Doyle film, The Snapper. Bright and in your face. The kind of outfit where you need shades on.

My sister-in-law went for the librarian's wet dream look. Everything that any man, woman or child finds disgusting to look at. The funniest part was that she found the cardigan comfortable on.

As we shared how brilliant our outfits were, I felt eyes upon us. Judging us. Doing a twirl without drawing attention, I spotted five pairs of eyes gawping at us with derision.

Firstly - we were laughing far too loudly. Belly aching laughter that comes from the pit of your stomach. That was enough to draw people's attention. But then we became a little bit silly.

Customers were picking up some of the items we were ridiculing and then quickly putting them back. That drew stares too. We didn't mean to be disparaging of people's taste - we were just lost in the moment and a bit giddy.

Our giddiness was becoming infectious though. I started explaining why we were picking up these truly awful outfits. When they knew the story, they started laughing too.

The best part was when the two girls were paying for their clothes, they didn't notice how their laughter was affecting other people in the queue behind them. At least four of the five women in line were laughing to themselves - or at least smiling.

We were spreading Christmas cheer through our own silly mischievousness. Happy Christmas to you all!

The Funniest Little Man.

I laughed so hard at one stage yesterday, it nearly hurt my back. I know I cried - I tried to stop tears streaming down my face. That one simple sentence nearly floored my colleague and I. And it came from a young man. Aged just three years old - called Aaron.

This kid will break hearts when he is older. Whether he tries comedy as a future occupation is anyone's guess. He is a good looking boy and he seems to have the personality too. He acts as if he is 3 going on 73. That's what made his initial words so funny.

To hear the comment come out of his mouth seemed totally abstract and out of place. You don't expect to hear a three year old talk about the weather, just like an adult does. That's what nearly knocked us to the floor.

He stepped out of the rain, into the dry and said in a thick Birmingham accent.

"It's disgusting out there, innit?"

"What's disgusting?"

"That bleeding weather. It's hellish lashing out!"

He then walked ahead as if used to making statements like this. Like he didn't think it was anyway funny. He left two doubled-over grown adults, bursting their arses laughing in his wake.

We struggled to contain ourselves whilst trying to be professional. Then other adults started laughing and couldn't help themselves either. It became infectious. This little man didn't know the power of his words.

This is the type of laughter that hurts - in a good way. When no matter how you try to stop laughing - you can't. The kind of laughter that you wish you did more often. When something memorable like this incident, happens.

Little Aaron continued to amaze us for the short period of time he was in our company. He sat with his hands cupped across his chest and talked like a much older gentleman. He spoke with great manners and you could see from his Dad's gaze, that he was dead proud of his young son.

He apparently spends a lot of time in his grandfather's company and that's where the personality stems from. Aaron definitely has good role models in his life. And making others laugh seems to be at the core of his personality.

And don't forget the power of belly-aching laughter - it comes in all forms from all people - large and very small!

Bah Humbug to your lack of Christmas Spirit.

I arrived in Chicago this evening with a list that ended the Christmas shopping. I was a man on a mission with places to go to and items to be purchased. I had an actual list, so just like any man, all I had to do was hand the list to a store employee and ask where to find the remaining few pieces. Then I would stroll to the cash register and get the flock out of the shop as quickly as possible.


In the last week or so, I have started to get into the festive spirit. I, like most normal people, hate when the Christmas shopping mania starts when Halloween is just over. That is far too early for most sane individuals. I fall into this bracket. But once the first of December passes, I just can't help but fall into a better mood.

Is it the upbeat music? Is it the greetings you receive that sound more sincere when you walk into a store? Is it the sense of innocence that pervades each adult as they crave the need to be younger and have that excitement back? Whatever it is, I like it. I wish each month could be December, because everyone tolerates each other a little more patiently. Everyone gets a chance to enjoy themselves.

So tonight, after a successful nights shopping for the last few bits, I sat down in a famous pizzeria to gorge myself. I had run for three miles after a long days' work, so I felt I could splurge a little. I sat at the bar with other men and women who just wanted to tune out and eat carb-loaded food. Talking seemed to be the last thing on everyone's minds - which suited me just fine.

My pizza arrived just as a large party of people started to gather behind the bar. They were waiting for all of their friends to arrive before they were all seated. They were a mix of men and women, mainly couples who were eager to see each other before Christmas. They were all in great form and full of good cheer.

That's when I heard the first "tsk" on my right hand side. Then I heard the words "for fucks sake!"

I doubted myself initially, but then I saw my barman, Jeff, glance at the gentleman to my right too. He had heard it too.

As the group got larger, so did the banter. As more and more couples arrived, their greetings whilst polite and friendly, did get louder but weren't uncouth. I didn't mind, but one guest at the bar did. His tuttering began to become more pronounced. His body language stated that he didn't like their presence within the actual fifteen feet from him.

The man to my left spotted it too. It created an atmosphere that was totally unnecessary. All of a sudden everyone sitting at the bar was on tenterhooks, waiting for this guy to explode.

Finally, it became too much for him. Couple number seven arrived to much clapping of hands and hugs amongst multiple persons.

"Can you dumb fucks just pipe down! I'm trying to eat my dinner here!"

Quick as a flash, a silky, senior server intervened.

"Excuse me sir! If you continue that kind of language you will be escorted to the front door and your dinner will not be served to you! That kind of behaviour is not tolerated in this establishment! This group is a long standing booking with us for Christmas every year, and we are pleased to have their custom. Unlike you, they are loyal customers - so if you cannot find it in your heart to be a little more forgiving for others who wish to celebrate the holidays, I'd appreciate it if you took your business elsewhere!"

Struggling to come up with an answer, Joe Schmuck grabbed his long black overcoat and high-tailed it toward the front door. Everyone took their time to clap the server. She seemed totally embarrassed - not only by her outburst, but by the venom she delivered to a gobshite that deserved it. I think she surprised herself.

But it is a message to us all - be more patient and more giving this festive season to family, friends and those who you don't even know!

 

 

 

The Circle of Life.

There is nothing like the smell of a newborn baby's head. Even if you don't particularly like infants or children, there is nothing quite like that fresh scent that makes you smile. Apart from chocolate obviously - but that's a chemical reaction. Baby head smelling is just amazing.

I had the ultimate pleasure of meeting my niece for the first time, on Sunday night. She is beautiful of course, but I expected no less as I am related to her of course! All babies are gorgeous no matter what they look like. Their need to be held, and dependence on others for their formative months makes them vulnerable and innocent.

Even though my niece was only twenty-four hours old, she really did take your breath away - and that was nothing to do with the smell of the first few vicious nappies.

She was calm and quiet the entire time. My sister said that she had been like that since the moment she arrived into this world. She was very content and gripped you tight, still craving touch and contact. I sat happily for those two hours absorbing her innocence and fragility.

We all have to be reminded from time to time about the gift of life. I'm not getting all religious and pontificating like a self righteous eejit here. But while I snuggled up to the most recent addition of our extended family in the warmth of a maternity ward - my wife that morning had attended the removal of her good friend's father, in the cold space of a front room laden with heavy sighs.

It's only when you attend the funeral of someone you love, that you start to ponder your own mortality. It's only then when you start to wonder what you've done so far with your life. Have you wasted large chunks of it? Or have you actually made the most of your life so far?

I know I've wasted several parts of my life doing stupid stuff. Nothing illegal, but just plain damn wasteful at times. So as I'm about to turn 37, it ends now. Enough faffing around.

I'm not going to be more conservative nor adventurous. I'm not going to risk life and limb just to get a thrill. I'm just going to respect life and treat it like tomorrow may be my last. Although I hope that doesn't happen - as I have to get the car serviced next week and that car won't drive itself.

One death, one birth in the space of a day. Life is fleeting and precious - but we still have to enjoy it.

Finding the happy medium -  is that key to your own happiness.

Smelling Ignorance From A Mile Off.

When you do a job for quite some time, you get better as you gain more experience. Dealing with the public isn’t always easy, but as you encounter different situations and individuals, you become well versed in dealing with anything that comes your way.

I know what I’m good at. I think I know my limitations and what I can and can’t do. I apply the basic principle that my Dad used to say – “If you’re going to do a job, do it right.”

So when Joe Soap comes into your workplace and tells you how you should be doing your job (when you’re doing an excellent job) – it’s very difficult to bite the inside of your cheek and chalk it down to experience. It’s difficult to suppress the desire to tell him or her to go and take a short run and jump off a cliff - but you do, because you’re a professional.

That was my encounter with a charming ahem, gentleman, late last night.

Was this gentleman well educated in my role and procedure of work? No, he didn’t strike me as if he did.

Did he ever operate in the same role as me previously? No, I seriously doubt it.

Was I doing anything that I hadn’t ever done before? Nope.

Was I operating in my role as I had been excellently trained to do? Yes.

Was this gent being absolutely obnoxious for apparently no reason at all? Yes.

Did he seem like the type of eejit to talk down to people? Yes, indeed.

So late last night, as myself and a work colleague dealt with his idiocies, we went over why we are great at our jobs. The FBI should take profiling tips from us.

We both spotted him as a potential pain in the ass from the very outset.

He took way too long to sit down. He moved personal items of other people’s so that his personal stuff was directly above him. His wife was very easy to initially chat to – he wasn’t.

He never made eye contact – most polite people when meeting someone for the first time, look you directly in the face – he didn’t. He talked at me instead of to me.

He had basic manners, but it never ever sounded sincere in any way.

His shirt was ironed to within an inch of its life - as were his jeans. What typical Irish man ever irons a pair of jeans – like seriously? His hair was immaculately brushed and styled. His shoes were shined so much that the sheen from them nearly made the moon orbit his loafers for a while.

But the piece de resistance? He gave out about how we only had type of tonic instead of another he was used to drinking.

“If you’re a serious tonic drinker, you’d know the difference,” was a quote directly from the horse’s ass.

But as ever, both of us continued to bite our lips and remained utterly professional. Just because someone pays a fair wad of cash for a particular service, are they are entitled to give an opinion on something they know little or anything about? Do me a favour.

But I was tempted to Google him when I got home, just to see what he actually worked at. Then I would march into his office or place of work, and point out how he wasn’t doing things properly.

And that despite my complete lack of knowledge about his job, I knew best!