How To Start Your Own Company (or my idea of how to do networking)
It was a CIMA presentation. Me, my girlfriend and a bunch of accountants with nothing better to do on a Tuesday night. The subject was the pros and cons of self employment. From past experience, I knew to expect pros of free food and drink and cons of an inevitable sales pitch that made the presentation financially plausible. I shouldn’t complain, these are a necessary evil, although I’d be the first scab to sign up to a real life equivalent of Adblock Plus. Think of it like a light hearted time share presentation. Of course I’m basing my idea of what one of those are like on the South Park episode parodying generic Hollywood movie plots in Aspen, but then my frame of references rarely stems further back than the nineties.

Anyway, I arrived early after a nice refreshing day working from home. London is such a nice place when you’re going against the flow of traffic rather than with it. Today was a day for hair like Wayne Coyne, old Spoon t-shirts, shorts with two many zips and soiled flip flops. Today was a day the working from home privilege was made for. The sun was shining, and I was in a positive enough a mood to shower and don my pants before lunchtime.

I turned up to the presentation early, there were free sandwiches after all.

“I’m actually this person’s +1”.

I crossed her name off the guest list anyway. There’s an art to maximising on these sorts of things. I arrive at 18:00, I know the presentation starts at 18:30, give or take 5 minutes. With such a limited time window, none of it can be wasted on anything other than consumption. Eye contact and idle chit chat are distracting vortexes that benefit no-one yet some are lonely enough to push for it even in this most sterile of environments. However, a table full of sandwiches sits before me. I have to take a moment to peruse the selection as it’s far more varied than I’m used to. When you only have so much stomach space, wasting it on trivialities such as egg and cress is a fool’s game.

A fool’s game.

Surprisingly and fantastically, there’s also a selection of reds and white wines on offer. This is the first time there’s been actual alcohol at one of these events, and I have chosen to see this as a sign of fate. Not karma, let’s not continue to abuse that term. This is neither really, but it sounds more romantic to give it a title.

Time to begin round one. A bit of coronation chicken, some avocado, hummus and carrot and some Doritos. Now my plate is full, the art in this is territory. I already stuck out like a sore thumb with my shorts and flip flops amongst a crowd of suits, I needed to reduce any further liability else I may be rumbled as the phoney I am. I need to overcome my disability.

The trick is to keep moving. Take your first round from one section of the platter, eat it somewhere else, then move on. Don’t become synonymous in the casual observers mind with a particular location. Don’t let their minds wander, associating your big head with the big round light fitting behind it. That bunch of cunts just want you to fail, that’s what keeps them entertained whilst they lack the initiative to pillage this situation for what it really is. They recognise you’ve got a tactic whilst they have none and it unsettles them. Eyes on the prize.

Eyes on the pies.

Saunter into the spaces where random people haven’t begun to talk to each other, and face slightly away from them. If there is a group of unfortunate degenerates reluctantly chatting about “what do you do?” and “tell me more” amongst other soul rape, make the most of the space behind them, but not close enough to engage in the conversation. Think of it as a slipstream. The shadow cast by these Awkwards will be enough of a distraction to render you invisible. As they canoodle, you nom nom nom nom nom whole sandwiches in one mouthful, safe in the knowledge that your actions will never rival that of the uncomfortable social pornography in front of you.

These opportunities bring the hibernating instinct out in me. I find more stomach space in an all you can eat opportunity than I ever previously realised I had. It’s as though my mind tricks my body into imagining this as a last supper, a feast before a fast. They intentionally provide small plates at these events, but you’ve got to make do. Bringing your own plate is not an option. Alan Partridge taught us that. You don’t want to draw unnecessary attention to yourself. My attire has already drawn more than enough attention to myself, I need to put extra effort to operate in stealth mode. Despite what Splinter Cell has taught me, this doesn’t just mean lining up with the wall, or standing in areas with no light. If only life were as easy as that computer game. I’d have probably been an entrepreneurial murderer by now.

As I neck my forth glass of wine, I note that my girlfriend still hasn’t arrived and she isn’t answering her phone. Ah well, time to take my seat, it’s 18:25 anyway. I always take a seat as close to the exit as possible in these things. They’re extremely hit and miss, and the last thing I want is to be stuck on the opposite side of the room whilst I’m told I could have a role as chairman in their company for two weeks of the year for significantly less liability and cost. DARSH! Strategic positioning by the door means that no-one sees your face until they hear the thud of the door slamming shut and wonder who it was causing a ruckus. You’re completely anonymous.

The presentation itself turned out to be one of CIMA’s better ones. There was a reminiscence of Anthony Robbins’s over exuberant delivery, but I respect competent presenters, even when I don’t agree with the subject matter. It’s a skill that too often is derided when it should be applauded. They even dedicated some time to crowd interaction and two-way communication. Some people turn their noses up at these sorts of actions as degrading or patronising. I say fuck them. A good presenter knows how to engage their audience, even if it’s to get them thinking about whether that approach was the best or not. At least I didn’t sit there hearing a dry subject matter recounted to me whilst my mind wandered into the familiar territory of mental jukebox usually reserved for meetings.

“I’m not going to go into details about what IR35- The surrealists were just nihilists with good imaginations- sign up for our full weekend course- Physics makes us all its bitches”.

One of the quandaries addressed early in the presentation was whether or not you had the right character traits to start your own company. That’s right, YOU, not a hypothetical you, but you yourself, you worthless piece of shit. This was what prompted the talking-to-strangers exercise and resulted me in standing in front of this room full of people conveniently labelled as “exciting”. Yes, I was an exciting accountant. Who wasn’t an accountant. Or exciting.

Anyway, the net result was the observation of the usefulness of different personal skills in different situations and not allowing the artificial barrier of worrying about whether you have the “right” character traits standing between you and that calculated risk of going it alone. See? When you read it like that it’s just dry. Dry like the inside of my mouth late in the presentation.

My girlfriend ended up having to work late, so despite me fending off latecomers trying to take her empty space, I ended up sitting alone. Like some insane guy who can’t accept the loss of a loved one so creates the physical space to make up for the artificial void in his mind. I may start using this tactic elsewhere, it seems like a good one to stop people invading your personal bubble.

Working from home, working for yourself, losing your mind? Different means to the same ends.
( ma0sm, Fri 12 Sep 2008, 14:23, 6 replies)

I read it
and I enjoyed it

but what does it mean?
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Fri 12 Sep 2008, 14:29, closed)

Vortices

( Kroney, Fri 12 Sep 2008, 14:37, closed)

Lost?
You bet I am...
(Fuckarma was masturbating into your handbag, Fri 12 Sep 2008, 14:51, closed)

Um
Whuh?
(Medibot, Fri 12 Sep 2008, 19:27, closed)

I was carried along
in a stream of consciousness. *click*
( The Light in Chains don't touch the Pope's boner, Fri 12 Sep 2008, 20:35, closed)

Now that's a good yarn..
I particularly enjoyed the tactical strike on the buffet and use of stealth.. Brilliant style.. have you written a book yet, because you should?

This one for the win!
(AndyC4m Eject Eject [><], Wed 17 Sep 2008, 13:32, closed)