I’m staying at The Mack’s this month, before we head off to South America. We just about survived the moving in of my stuff. Mainly thanks to The Mack getting rid of 95% of his possessions to make space for the 10% of mine that I carefully calculated I could hide about his place and get away with. That and his vow of silence.
It’s been a week so far and, put it this way, I’m pretty sure that The Mack cannot wait for our 3 week trip, just the two of us. On the strength of my performance so far, I think we can safely say I’m not in the running for Girlfriend of the Year 2013.
the taming of the shrew
Now some lesser men might have taken the view that, if you give houseroom to an unpredictable, highly-strung creature with a history of fiery outbursts, you should probably try to maintain a calm, stable home environment. And avoid anything that is likely to rile the beast.
Not The Mack. His view is that if he is kind enough to give houseroom to said creature, then it gives him free rein to wind it up. stand back – taser in hand – and watch it run itself into exhaustion.
I’m starting to suspect that he’s using this as some sort of social experiment. He knows I know I’ve got nowhere else to go…
I hate you so much right now
Two things I really don’t like. The whole start-up over-exuberance and slavish adherence to made-up methodologies. And anyone checking up on me.
So The Mack has kindly decided to combine both of these in what has proven to be a foolproof system of destruction of will.
There are too many things that make me mad to list them all here, but I’ll give you the highlights (and don’t worry, I’ve got the others safely filed away in my brain under “things to bring up in our next big public argument”):
– his enthusiasm for our business ideas and general upbeat attitude vs my rightly-held belief that everything we’re doing is a pile of crap and an utterly pointless big fat waste of time.
– making me write tasks on post-its, which we stick on the wall for each of our projects. Colour-coded for the different types of tasks (concept/content, technical, marketing). Ranked in order of priority. Allocated to one of us to action. “Action”. Oh dear lord.
– his insistence on having “team” meetings every morning where we update one another on progress. It’s an interrogation, people. The man is never satisfied with my answers. And I’m realising I’m quite a defensive person.
– scheduling our time each day “cos it’s the only way things get done”. 2 hours on my project, 1 on his, 30 minutes on planning our trip, 1 hour off for lunch where we watch either an episode of Girls or Modern Family (there are no other options, soldier).
– using an egg-timer app to make sure we stick to the schedule.
– endlessly using the phrases “engaging the pre-frontal cortex”, “synapses”, “gamification” and “what’s for lunch, babe?”.
I know, I know, you’re wondering how it is that I’ve managed not to crack under this inhumane regime. Well, I’ve developed a few strategies for dealing with this toxic environment. They include:
– talking in a really shrill, harpy-like voice.
– cursing (both like a navvy and like a witch-doctor).
– taking myself off for a late night walk through dodgy estates in South London (there’s nothing like fear of personal attack to make you want to come back “home”).
– watching Rambo I and II.
The worst bit about it all is that I know that The Mack has a point. We need to start making some money fast, and getting on with our projects is the only way that’s going to happen.
Doesn’t stop me wanting to stab him repeatedly with a fork every time we break for lunch though…
PS: I’d be really grateful if my UK readers could take 5 mins to fill out an online survey for a new business venture I’m working on to do with friends and communities. Please go to www.beneighbourly.com. Thank you!!