The people I meet everyday.: A Limerick for Harry.On the first cold Monday of...

The people I meet everyday.: A Limerick for Harry.

On the first cold Monday of...: A Limerick for Harry. On the first cold Monday of January, I was woken by my wife, from my reverie. As I lay deep in sleep hugging my...

A Limerick for Harry.

On the first cold Monday of January,

I was woken by my wife, from my reverie.

As I lay deep in sleep hugging my pillow

She simply stated “Get up, Here comes our little fellow!”

Her waters had broken twenty minutes prior,

Yet she applied make-up, remaining calm under fire.

I whizzed around, packing stuff for myself,

Not knowing these items would remain on a shelf.

We had a false start as I pulled the car out,

“The floodgates have opened” she said with a shout.

Once redressed, we drove slowly at speed,

Watching out for any bumps, paying great heed.

Without any change, we stopped at the Port tunnel toll,

Where the man let us through as her fear took hold.

We hit the bump at Beckett Bridge with such surprise,

That it nearly forced baby out, complete with his cries!

Double parked at reception, I left her for a short while,

She was greeted with long plastic sheet and a smile.

She looked at it, not knowing exactly what to do,

Until the receptionist said “Sit on it love – the woman before you used two!”

At six in the morning, she lay on her first bed,

Given the pace of the day, I thought we’d see a head.

But our first nurse simply told us she wasn’t in labour,

And asked if we’d like to come back in later?

The pre-labour ward was full with phones and groans,

Where she quietly said “I feel embarrassed for their moans.

After she consumed her boiled egg, tea and toast,

One hour later she was the one who cried loudest and most!

With increasing pain and strength of contractions,

She got pain relief with horrific reactions.

Under haze of medication came the threat of abuse,

“I hate you - this is all your fault,” she said at first use.

Then came the surprise of which I had not planned,

As she bore down on contraction, she bit a chunk of left hand.

We walked the green mile of hallway to the delivery ward,

Where gas and air would be her reward.

We then moved to the room where baby would be born,

Where light blue tile and old fixtures adorned.

With thrusts and red faces, adding to clan,

Out came baby, according to plan.

With impatience said Mommy “let me see, let me see”,

“Let us meet our nine month prodigy.”

With a voice loud enough, ten fingers and toes,

We named him Harry - with his Daddy’s little nose.

The people I meet everyday.: "She said she's a DOMINATRIX???"It's rare you ge...

The people I meet everyday.: "She said she's a DOMINATRIX???"

It's rare you ge...: "She said she's a DOMINATRIX???" It's rare you get a chance to say those words out loud. In truth, it's only on TV...

"She said she's a DOMINATRIX???"

It's rare you get a chance to say those words out loud.

In truth, it's only on TV shows like Sex and the City that the word is ever uttered.

But three days ago at work, I asked the question of a fellow colleague.

So let me present the evidence we had to go on - and let you make up your own mind whether she was or wasn't a Dominatrix.

Firstly, let's call her Eve, instead of going through our story calling her "this lady".  And secondly, Eve is not her real name - for those of you warped enough to search the name Eve and Dominatrix into Google and hope to come up with something more.

Eve was a very open woman, being quite tactile. She made great eye contact and was very engaging from the start. She was funny, cheeky and flirtatious.

Eve had told my female co-worker her revelation in confidence, while she was alone. So we actually had no witness to say that she had said the words, or any proof that she was what she said she was.

When I greeted Eve for the first time, she actually touched me before saying hello back. It wasn't invasive in any way, as she gently grazed my upper arm a split second before replying. Maybe it was her way of disarming people and being friendly.

At the same time she wasn't talking to her husband, who trailed behind her. It was clear they had a disagreement prior to engaging with us.

Eve was very attractive, despite being on the wrong side of sixty.  I would say she could possibly have been a model or something similar when she was younger.

She had cosmetic surgery done that was obvious to me - plumped lips and a botoxed forehead. But my male colleague pointed out that Eve's face definitely had also been lifted - as he said her skin that was initially around her cheekbones many years ago - was probably now behind her ears.

Despite her cosmetic surgery, Eve had kind eyes and a laugh that was husky and raspy in equal measure. She wore comfortable black leggings and a black top. She had a fine toned figure for a lady of her years.

As Eve became more comfortable talking in our company, she revealed a little more about herself. I noticed that the handbag cast over her shoulder had interwoven C motifs of Coco Chanel on the interior. And I kept getting the thin waft of the familiar scent of Chanel No5.

She downed a glass of white wine in such a fashion that made us gasp in surprise. I'm not sure if our astonishment was impressed or disapproving.

She talked about how herself and her husband spending equal time in both Florida and Dublin. They had a penthouse apartment in the city centre, overlooking a prominent landmark.

All cartoon images courtesy of Cartoonstock.

She talked about living close to nudist beaches in Florida - maybe she gauging how we might react before she revealed her big secret. Or maybe she just liked shocking strangers with wild tales.

At this stage, none of us knew what Eve or her husband did for a living. Our first guess was one of them was oil money and our second guess was real estate.

My female co-worker, being ever professional, tried her best to look nonplussed by her revelation, but failed miserably. Eve revealed to her that she had "whipped most of Ireland's elite classes and politicians."

Eve stated that both herself and her husband earned money in equal parts and that they shared everything. He worked in an area of business that was completely opposite to hers.

And then she produced her husbands business card as proof of his enterprise. But apart from a picture of the two of them on the reverse, there was no mention of her "occupation".

And that's why I don't think she was a Dominatrix.

Despite Eve being very entertaining and charming, I think she mainly craved attention. She loved being in the centre of everything.

I think that Eve had lots of attention to her good looks growing up and her need for plastic surgery let her hold on to it, just that bit longer. Her posturing and preening in public wanted people to notice her still.

Her need to dramatise normal situations kept her being talked about long after she had left. Despite her age, money and fading good looks, she was insecure just like most of us are about something.

But she did like the fast life. And the colour black....

First Impressions.

I work with the public daily and first impressions are crucial. How you greet someone you have never met before is vitally important. You want your impression upon them to be lasting and positive. 

Recently,  I told an ignorant manager that he provided really poor customer service. Not only did he create an icy atmosphere with his work colleagues, but he treated his customers with utter contempt. And he still had the audacity to say to me in an insincere tone to "Have a nice day!"

In the thirty or so seconds he had interaction with me, he never once made eye contact. He shouted at his co-workers twice and waved his arms about as if he was the only doing some work. In fact, he was the only one sitting down on the job. 

His gait was disinterested and sloppy. And then he called the previous customer to me "stupid" under his breath - all while she was walking away.

So I called him out on it.  

I don't know if it's anything to do with getting older (or wiser), but my tolerance level for idiocy and ignorance is getting very low. I told him he was rude and in no way interested in the customer standing right in front of him. 

As soon as I spoke outside of a monotone he actually looked at me for the first time. I was polite and civil in making my point about his lack of respect toward his customers.  I will think again about frequenting this particular store - all because of his ignorant attitude.

And that's why a good first impression is so important. Setting a positive tone of interaction with a stranger is vital. I have recently had the opportunity to work with many new recruits to our business and can not emphasise the importance of starting as you mean to go on.

If the "face" of a company does their job really well - do you continue to do business with that company? Of course you do. 

That's where I point out where front line staff have a unique set of skills - not everyone possesses these attributes. These qualities include problem solving and excellent interpersonal communication skills. 

They also include the ability to work under extreme pressure in intense conditions. And the ability to cope with a problem that you have never encountered before with confidence, grace and gravitas.

So when I meet people who can not even grunt in your general direction, I sometimes go out of my way to be even friendlier the next time - just in case they did not hear me on the first occasion. 

So in short - my tips for creating a great first impression are: make good eye contact, smile sincerely, shake hand firmly (if appropriate) and be the best version of yourself.



P.S. Since I wrote this piece two weeks ago, I can report that the so-called manager of the store I mentioned above has "moved on." 

.

Boston Strong – One Year On.

It is in the depths of depravity and despair that we find resilience and strength.

The very same could be said of Bostonians, who today will cheer on thousands of willing and fit men and women through the torture of a 26.2 mile trek through their city. Not only will they be supporting their family and friends pounding the pavement, but they will start upon a journey of healing.  And they will be closing the door on a chapter of paranoia - that has enveloped the city since this time last year.

Those two brothers who effectively shut down the city of Boston for almost ten days last year deserve their comeuppance – both in this life and the next. One has passed on but the other awaits his trial. Retribution cannot come quickly enough for those who they hurt, maimed and killed.

Because of the actions of those two young men, Boston may never be quite the same again. It is amazing to think that just two individual people can wield such power and destruction. I know that in world terms their actions have been dwarfed by other insane bombings and terrible tragedies – but this was the first ever public event that changed the way a city lives.

Boston has always been a relaxed and playful city. It loves its sports, culture and lifestyle. Mother Nature has provided a weather that fluctuates from season to season, allowing the city to regrow. And in the power to regenerate comes change – not only in attitude but in moving on.

Time heals all wounds, no matter how deep the cut.

Paranoia is something that also dissipates with time. You learn to adapt and change with different procedures – so much so that change becomes part of normal life. How many years ago did we say that security going through airports was a hindrance and protected nothing? Now it is part and parcel of aviation and we all allow extra time after check in to get through security check points.

But it never goes away completely, and that’s a good thing. You are a bit more attuned to watch out for dangers and more likely to speak out against something that you don’t agree with. And with helping others - they are more likely to be on their guard for you in return.

People in the main, are good people.

The preparation for today has been in full swing for many days and weeks. Security, as you can imagine is being tightened. Undercover policemen and women are mixing with the general public along the city streets. Hi-visibility Police officers are on most street corners and junctions. Police helicopters patrol the skies while Transit Police monitor the actions of the public underground T trains. No stone is being left unturned.

But it is in the phrases and slogans plastered everywhere that give an insight about the positive messages Bostonians are trying to get across to the world.

They will not be broken – in body or in spirit. They hit rock bottom and came out fighting. 

Two of their biggest sporting teams coasted to their respective championships riding high on the crest of public empathy and support. It was the city’s way of saying “F**k you, we are Boston.”

And for that staunch never say die spirit, you have to applaud them.

So tonight, tune into your local TV station. No doubt they will have a heartwarming story of how this year’s marathon was such a success - and rightly so.  

The people I meet everyday.: The Most Interesting Young Man.I’ve metsome amazi...

The people I meet everyday.: The Most Interesting Young Man.
I’ve metsome amazi...: The Most Interesting Young Man. I’ve met some amazing and intriguing people in my life thus far. Some have been weird and wonderful, ot...

The Most Interesting Young Man.

I’ve met some amazing and intriguing people in my life thus far. Some have been weird and wonderful, others bland and beautiful. But some weeks ago, I met a young man who has captured my attention - like no one has ever before.

I first met him when he howled at me into my face - from less than three feet away. He was bewildered, dazed and confused as to what was going on around him. Taking the time to reassure him, he gazed up at me like he hadn’t a clue where he was.

Day by day, he started to find his feet. He needed some good medical assistance in those initial days, which seemed to bring him around. He was seemingly still a little perturbed about his existence, and needed constant care.

With every little bit that passed his lips, we started to see his true personality come out. He became more vocal and more animated when he spoke. It would be a frequent thing for him to shake his fists at me, when trying to make a point.

But in the past couple of weeks I’ve seen the real him. We have discussed sensitive topics, including politics, music and sport. His views are forthright, if a little garbled and confusing. But therein lies the fascination – what is he actually trying to say?

We’ve had a few drinks between us and I can tell you, he can’t hold his drink. It wouldn’t be uncommon for him to drop his chin to his chest and spew.

He is not a pretty drunk either, screaming and shouting abuse when others try to assist him. But I have, nonetheless, knowing that despite his protestations, he will appreciate it later when he wakes from his stupor.

And when he wakes he finds all that has gone on before, absolutely hilarious. And it is almost impossible not to laugh along with him. His tone of laughter is infectious.

He is fascinating on so many levels. He is brutally honest and tells you exactly what he thinks of you. It doesn't matter how good or bad your day has been - he doesn't care, as long as his needs are met. In his world, he is number one.

 

His needs are basic. He doesn’t hold material possessions in high estimation. All he wants is a safe roof over his head and enough food to keep him going.

And did I mention that he’s my eight week old son?

 

Christmas Tolerance.

It’s normally in the first couple of weeks in December that people start to go a little crazy about their Christmas shopping. As the days close in on the climax of the festive period, the madness becomes even more maniacal.

Never mind that people don’t have the cash at hand that they used to five years ago, but the pressures of Christmas remain ever constant. There’s the food, the tree, the decorations and everything that comes with over indulgence. 

But it’s the buying of presents that seem to take precedence over everything else.

What struck me most about the panic for buying gifts over the last few days was the level of expectation and impatience that seemed to vibrate through everyone.

People have the capacity when under great pressure, to become plain rude.

People were obnoxious to anyone that held them up or made them stand in line for much longer than they wanted to.

Their levels of anxiousness were heightened due to the extra volumes of people milling around shops and shopping centres.

I had this conversation with a young lady who worked behind the counter of a popular children’s toy shop. She agreed that the buzz was great and that people in general, were more friendly but definitely more impatient. If they came shopping with their children, their patience always wore thinner.

And this is what I found amazing – we were in the first few days of December and all I could see in people’s eyes was a frustration for all things festive. This was something new to me – a level of impatience reaching a new peak so early.

In ten minutes I was almost run down by a young mum and her buggy and then pushed out of the way by an elderly woman to have a look at Christmas cards. Did they say “excuse me” or “sorry?” Nope.

Having purchased what I needed, I exited the shopping centre. I passed the carol singers who immediately lifted my mood and re-instilled the joy that is Christmas.  

The human spirit had been revived in me. I walked out of the shopping centre and saw a man collapsed on the ground. Four strangers had gathered around him coming to his aid. He had been preoccupied with Christmas pressures and misstepped.

He tripped and hit his forehead, smashing his face off the hardness of the pavement. I offered to help, but there was no need. One man was phoning the ambulance while another placed her handbag under his head. Another lady pressed a handkerchief firmly against the wound while another retrieved a first aid kit from a nearby restaurant.

And despite his injuries, the man wasn't panicking. Because of the kindness of four strangers and their swift actions, his day wasn't going to be as bad as first feared. I wish I could have assisted more, but they had it under control.

And it reaffirmed my Christmas belief in people. No matter what the pressures of everyday life or the holiday season, people are giving and generous souls.

 And their tolerance for anything is amazing.   

Alex the Sleaze.

It was the overpowering smell of musky aftershave from some distance away that first alerted me to his presence. Then I heard his recoil of spittle as he snorted loudly and then swallowed. His overt confidence and necessity to shout everything made everybody wince at seeing him arrive in the door. I could read the minds of many around me who were thinking "Please don't seat that idiot near me tonight."

Upon first glance, I saw a bright pink shirt nearly open to the midriff. This revealed a dark brown tan and small gold necklace. He flexed his cuffs, straightening the ends to underline his importance. His deep hue of sun kissed skin accentuated his bright shiny white teeth even more. His shoes shined as if a military man had spit polished them for days.

It was a busy midweek night in a popular restaurant chain. I had, as per usual, taken up my customary seat at the bar, staying quiet to myself. Seating anywhere in the establishment was at a premium, so even the odd seats at the long bar were being snapped up. There was only one vacant seat on one side of me, and having seen that Mr.Obvious was in company with another man, I thanked my lucky stars.


The restaurant hadn't a record of his table booking and apologised immediately. He blamed his assistant, who wasn't in their company, conveniently. They offered him an alternative - just as a second seat right beside me opened up.

And then my long day just got that bit longer.

Before I had set eyes on this character, I initially guessed that he would have a “power shirt and suit” on. I guessed that he might be a high flier who was out to impress a client. He was given an account and was told to go wine, dine and entertain. But that was just my stereotypical brain working overtime.

As he and his friend took their seats to my right, I got a chance to take in more detail about this peacock.

The top three buttons open revealed a bare chest - yet his arms and hands were quite hairy. His hair was thick and black, with wisps of grey tickling the sides. His receding hairline, although it had crossed the top of his forehead, showed a fair amount of hair for a man in his early fifties. My initial reaction was that he looked like a movie extra from an early 1990's Mafia gangster film.  

His suit was neatly tailored for him - unlike his dining compatriot. His more sedate colleague wore less bright colours and a mismatched suit jacket and pants, preferring to merge into the background.

And then everyone was introduced to Alex and Nathan - whether they wanted to know or not. Alex, (with a NOT so slight over-annunciation on the letter A) was a real estate broker who had just sold a property worth six hundred thousand – and this young man beside him was his protege, Nathan. Nathan was in or around the same age as Alex, and just seemed to accept the inappropriate amount of back-slapping and incessant patronising from his boss.

They were out celebrating their sale and “painting the town red’, as Alex put it. Nathan managed to accept it and grinned a faint smile. His gait, slouch and downcast stare with Alex told its own story.

With little interaction with his colleague, Alex tried catching my eye. But I was too rooted into my paper. I knew that if I looked up, it was game over. He nudged me, ever so accidentally on purpose, sensing I wasn’t interested in knowing who he was. I simply sniffed, tilted my head in the opposite direction and flicked my paper. In truth, I was trying to get my nose out of the down draft of his strong aftershave that kept wafting my way.

Once Amy, our server gave them menus, he entered into conversation with her. I have known Amy for some time and she is a petite, bubbly blond lady – who is fiercely astute and efficient. Alex now, had a partner to indulge his over active mouth. In between the bouts of dialogue, Alex would titter to his friend Nathan and point toward Amy. Thank the heavens I didn't hear any mutterings, because I would have called him out on it. 

Before my food arrived, Alex made a big deal of taking off his navy pinstripe suit jacket. He had to point out to Nathan how much he’d paid for his Gucci suit and how someday Nathan would be able to afford his own. Nathan just took another deep breath and let it go.

As he sat back down I noticed the silver cuff links with the capital letter A etched onto the face. As he bounced back into his leather topped bar stool, I saw a flash of a gold bracelet. 

My food arrived just as the two men ordered their drinks. Alex wanted water, as he said he wanted to pace himself for the long night ahead.

But he didn’t want any ordinary water – he wanted bottled water. Amy listed the bottled still waters and he waited until she finished before he stated that he wanted sparkling spring water. So then Amy listed off their sparkling waters. He settled on one called Saratoga Springs but he wanted it ice cold - ice cold without any actual ice in his glass.

At this stage people around me were shaking their heads at his annoying attitude. All the servers on the floor and behind the bar were working flat out and he wanted to know every detail about every item they had in stock. I caught a passing glance from Amy that told me what she thought of this "gentleman".

And then he wanted a glass of Merlot – what did Amy recommend?

Nathan sensed the general mood around him and ordered a draft beer and tap water - very much akin to his clothing and demeanour - straight forward. Alex insisted that he try the chilled Saratoga Springs where you could nearly “taste the bubbles” – I had to shove some mashed potato into my gob to muffle my laughter. I think Nathan heard my garbled guffaw.

As Amy returned with Alex’s glass of red wine, I saw him do something curious. I saw him slip off his gold wedding band and slide it into his pocket, even though he didn’t realise that his tan line was now showing on his left hand. More chat went back and forth between Alex and Amy, but it was just banter and reference to the fact that Alex was from Long Island. Did I not mention that? Because he did – multiple times!

As I finished my second beer and dinner, I really wanted another drink. But the crap that was wilfully dripping out of Alex’s mouth made me want to go home. But I didn't - curiousity was getting the better of me.

As Amy was asked more inane and personal questions, Alex obviously thought that he was getting somewhere with this efficient and friendly server. As she revealed that she had a husband and a young son, Alex then changed his tune. Then he slipped his wedding ring back on!

He regaled us all with stories of his daughter and how she would paint his toenails on Sundays while he watched football. It all seemed very endearing, but I think we all knew it was bullshit.

As I paid my check and drenched the last dregs of my third beer, the two men beside me had just finished dinner. Alex made a big show of stating that “he was going to drain the lizard”. I said thanks to Amy and nodded to Nathan. He nodded back, almost in sympathy.

Then he did something hilarious.

Nathan grabbed the check on the bar top. He handed Amy his credit card and asked her to add twenty percent. She stated the total which he quickly agreed. He signed the docket as he put on his over sized jacket.

Nathan took his opportunity to get out – while he still had a chance. I laughed all the way back to my hotel.

I'd say Alex's face was a pretty picture when he returned from the restroom.