Mass public humiliation appears to be my speciality...

Just over a year ago (therefore not completely justifying wavy lines) I attended a course / conference lark in a swanky hotel in Birmingham. There were about 500 delegates, primed to be lectured and tutored on the joys of a dull-as-shit Time and attendance system, and the HR implications of giving somebody a proper verbal kicking when they were late etc.

Therefore part of this ‘course’ entailed ‘people skills’.

Hmm now…there is a simple equation which applies to me in these situations…

Pooflake + People skills = an impending outburst on somebody’s behalf of “Oh sweet spluffing Jesus”.

Whilst the cunning ploy of ‘sloping off to the pub and making up a story about how the whole course was triffic’ ran through my head, I failed to notice that we were all being split into groups of four or five. I was then grabbed by a couple of cockscratchers and forced to sit at a table to begin the exercise.

At this point I should tell you something else about me. In small groups I am alright – I can introduce myself and settle in quickly and comfortably. But Big groups scare me rigid, & public speaking gives me the total-red-faced-shit-attacks. However, in front of half-a-dozen or so bell-ends that I’m never going to see again, I can become quite the confident, cocky, carefree cunt cake.

And so it began. We were handed out whopping great big name tags and marker pens. As part of the exercise we had to write down not only our names, but some oh-so-interesting fact about ourselves too, to ingratiate ourselves with our group.

One chap’s badge (I kid you not) was as follows:

Name: ‘Big Pete’
Company: [company name]
Special Talent: Winning attitude
Hobbies: Being a Sales hero

I know, I know…for the love of pine-scented arse-bananas.

Now I didn’t give a kung-fu fuck about this course, or about ‘bonding’ with the Mongspack McShitwitts in my vacinity, so I decided to display my indifference and disrespect for the whole malarkey by way of my badge comments.

I wrote the following:

Name: Pooflake
Company: [company name]
Special Talent: Massive dong – (here I accentuated the fact by scrawling a crudely drawn cock, with obligatory pubage and spaff spurts)
Hobbies: Thrusting and Jizzing for England

I then sat chuckling to myself through the intro section, thinking It would at least raise a smile for Big Pete and his 3 dweeb mates throughout this pointless (and brief) objective.

It didn’t.

But then I quickly discovered that the ‘name tag’ part of the exercise was only ‘part one’…

Two minutes later I was informed that ‘Part two’ was to go around to every single table in the conference and ‘break the ice’ by introducing ourselves to everyone else, utilising our newfound people skills by striking up a conversation based solely on the info on our name tags.

Oooh my crinkle-cut bollocks.

I asked my tutor for another badge. He refused, saying they had run out. What a cunt.

So there I was, face aglow, mingling with upper management, Directors and the like…men and women of all ages around…and the only topic of conversation allowed in my direction was regarding my boink-ability, the hugeness of my internal gut-prodder, and the quality of my graphic design skills.

I cringed so hard that my chin descended into my chest and my spine almost shuddered itself loose from the relative safety of my skin.

But eventually, after multiple apologies, a couple of drinks and a trip to the buffet it was over and I slowly forgot about the name tag.

The way the day was going, I suppose I should have expected what was to happen next…

It was the very end of the day, when the presenters were saying their 'thank you’s and I just so happened to be firmly seated on the faecal depository, when I heard the announcer call out:

“And now it’s time for today’s raffle draw”

Remembering I had bought a ticket, I quickly wiped, shook and heaved up my trollies, before tanking it to the bog door just in time to hear:

“And the winner of the raffle is…Mr Poo…Flake”

*round of applause*

Me: “Wooo!” and I bound up out of the lavvy and up to the stage, where I receive my gift token and bottle of wine; triumphantly raising it aloft before enthusiastically shaking the hands of the strangely stunned organisers.

Slowly, the applause dies down, and I start to hear some muttering and ‘tuts’

‘Ha – jealous fuckers’ I gloat to myself…yet as I stand on the stage I slowly realise that not only do I still have my name tag on…but when I look down to inspect the tag I noticed a thick stream of piss splatters down my leg, where in my haste to hear the results, It became painfully obvious that I had not quite shaken my lamb cannon to the required proportions.

Why do these things always happen to me?

( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Mon 1 Dec 2008, 13:11, 7 replies)

they happen because you are pooflake
it is your destiny

BTW 'for the love of pine-scented arse-bananas'

nice!
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Mon 1 Dec 2008, 13:22, closed)

I love stories like this
which involve bell-ends like "Big Pete." Part of me wants an opportunity to meet more of these superficial pillocks who genuinely believe that "being a Sales Hero" is a hobby, just so I can laugh at them. And maybe wee in their coffee pot.
(LongJohnBaldry, Mon 1 Dec 2008, 13:41, closed)

Sales hero?
What a cock.
(Bear Pookie The Frankly Challenged. Halloween is coming to town., Mon 1 Dec 2008, 14:12, closed)

Love it
Reminds me of my days in accountancy practice, where backslapping and ego-frotting by the most odious of characters was de riguer. I had the misfortune to be invited along to corporate awards ceremonies where the self congratulation reached epic proportions.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Mon 1 Dec 2008, 14:29, closed)

Snigger
Nice story, it has brightened up what's been a pretty miserable Monday so far. Have a well earned *click*
(uk_viper stopped lurking on, Mon 1 Dec 2008, 14:48, closed)

Click!
and that's why we love you!
(Beer Elf Thought this was like a campfire, anyhow, on, Mon 1 Dec 2008, 20:52, closed)

Superb...
Have a click from me.

Had to chew my fist to stop me laughing at this though...
( snee held his breath since, Tue 2 Dec 2008, 14:57, closed)