Brioche and whisky

We made inroads into the uncertainties of my Project Brioche today. My colleague MG and I basically pulled the “we aren’t leaving this web page until we’ve collected all the requirements”, and I feel heaps better about it.

Well, as the meeting ended and we were leaving the conference room, I said I was glad that my terror at seeing all those empty spaces in MG’s requirements matrix helped spur this. My manager replied—intending to be encouraging, I know—“No, you’re leading Pickett’s gallant charge up the hill.”

I stopped in my tracks, goggled at him and stuttered, “Wut? WUT? That charge did not end well.”

(Actually, I’m trying to think of a charge that did end well, and I’m coming up short. The Light Brigade at Balaklava? Custer at Little Bighorn? Flaminius at Trasimene? D’Albret at Agincourt? Huh.)

Well, he recognized his error, so that’s okay.

Also—we spent about half of our weekly 1:1 catch-up talking whisky. And not only does he have no time for Laphroaig, his “spirit animal” is Highland Park 18.

I can forgive such a person much.