I’ve been dodging the
knowledge that, come tomorrow, I’m going to have to once again Pitch
an Idea as the culmination of the ideation course we’re running at work. As
I (as always) would rather swallow ground glass than go through this, I’ve just
been doing my Scarlet O’Hara imitation and putting off thinking about it until
the next day, and the next.
Look: I have an idea—a good
one—but the challenge is to make your case to a panel of judges inside two
minutes. I can’t even set the stage for the problem to be solved in two
minutes.
But on Friday I just
couldn’t put it off any more, and the enormity of my shortcoming hit me, and my
commute home was not uplifting.
So imagine my delight
at finding a package on my doorstep, and picture my happy dance when I
unwrapped the contents, an amazing give from one of my spirituous advisers:
Point of origin, from
left, Ireland, Scotland, North Carolina.
(I opened the latter
during my biweekly call with the giver, and let me just say, it was mighty,
mighty fine. The aroma filled my living room, even with the windows open, and
it went down a treat.)
So mega gratitude today
for friends with superb taste, for unexpected gifts, and for getting this
bloody pitch over with.
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