What are we?
Mole-Hand stopped pacing about in front of us and held a hand out, palm up as is to weigh our collective testicles.
A challenging task given that half of the room were women.
Anyone?
He beseeched the silence of the room.
I shuffled my feet. Baws, I thought he was asking a rhetorical question but it seemed like he was actually looking for an answer.
Yer maw. Although a staple Scottish answer to many a question didn't seem to fit this occasion.
Mole-Hand clenched his open hand into a fist and pulled it in toward him as if showing off on a rowing machine.
What are we?
This time he stared out at the gathered throng less like a sad puppy dog and more like a savage sheep that had just been branded on the arse.
I looked about my assembled work colleagues. There were a fair few of us bundled into one of the bigger meeting rooms. We were here to hear someone from the Executive Team tell us about our all new Core Values.
Idly, I wondered if this is what they thought counted as a Christmas bonus.
Mole-Hand nodded as he scanned the room catching all of our eyes one by one.
This. This is what our new Core Values seeks to address. Only by knowing what we are, can we begin to know who we are. By knowing what we are we can hope to succeed not only 'out there...'
He waved at the windows as if we were in a Lighthouse made of cheese and outside, giant cats were prowling.
But in here too.
He thumped his chest with his Mole-Hand for which he was named and motioned around the room.
So. Just to wind up. Can we do a quick around the room. I will point and you can tell me what we are in one word. Just one word. Sound good?
He beamed like a Sherpa on a moped.
The collective in the room silently mumped and shuffled their feet. This was the bit that was always the worst. Why did they always feel they had to get you involved?
At least we hadn't been made to break out into smaller groups. That was always like a microcosmic Lord of the Flies.
Mole-Hand lifted an imperious finger and started pointing at people.
The answers started flying, everyone attempting to outdo one another.
Innovative?
Squeaked one little mouse.
Dedicated.
Squelched a bottom feeder.
The Customer.
Grunted an old man close to death who may or may not have been something once.
Mole-Hand paused and smiled.
That's two words but yes that's pretty good. Well done!
There were some more bland and shitty answers.
Finally the finger stopped at me.
I raised an eyebrow.
Mole-Hand did too.
What are we?
He prompted as if we were shy lesbian's in the woods at dawn.
Hungry.
I said, my mouth set in a grim line.
Mole-Hand paused, tilting his head to the side appreciatively.
This.
He pumped his finger at me as if I were a leaky Dutch dam.
Hungry. Yes! Hungry for change. Hungry to succeed. Hungry keeps you on your toes. I like it yes. Very good.
He moved on, dragging words from us like stones from a bladder, till we were done and free to go.
My mate BinJuice fell into step with me as we left the room.
So. Tell the truth. You just meant hungry for food didn't you because it's nearly lunchtime?
He asked.
I laughed.
Ha. Perhaps...