Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)
Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.
This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.
Thursday, January 22, 2004
Lunch Atop the 'Ham
Well, there was a good view. 20th floor of the AmSouth HQ, and a bright shiny day that makes one want to prance down the street singi...oh, wait--let's not start that again. Anyway, visibility 10 miles, which means that had I been a few stories higher I might could have seen my house. (Not really)
Walked in, and saw an attractive lady sitting at a reception desk. "Blahblah Merchant's Association meeting?" I asked hopefully. Just as I had gotten that out, another school of pinstriped movers and shakers came in right behind me, and I suppose she thought we were all together. (Despite the fact that I was dressed like a used car salesman from the Dakotas--shirt, tie, and a gigantic black M65 field coat with quilted liner.) The nice lady graciously nodded to me and to the people behind me and mentioned a name, and the guy in the lead nodded his head at her and looked at me, so I figured we must be together, too.
Walked behind their group into a small private dining room-within-the-private-dining-room and was met with a table full of bright, shiny, eager, successful people and a couple of empty chairs. I shed my coat and looked around the room trying to find one single person I knew from the business association--who ARE these people? I went around to the other side of the table, and drew back a chair. Something's just NOT right--"Pardon me, folks, but is this the Blahblah Merchant's Association meeting?"
Just then, Nice Lady came through the door with a stricken look on her face and began aplogizing to everyone, which I took as my cue to go with her. "It sure looks like you have some good food--I hate to leave!" The guy at the head of the table, a dead-ringer for Sen. John Edwards, chuckled and introduced himself and shook hands with me as I was going back out the door. I really don't think he would have minded if I had stayed. People are just like that.
But, I had to go to the real place, which was an even nicer room with many, MANY fewer people. Wound up with about twenty souls or so. I usually go to these things as an observer and to field any questions about my own little slice of the gummint machine. Each person was asked to speak, and the conversation went around the table as each variously described a glory day in a dimly remember past in their neighborhood, and/or how the whole neighborhood has just gone to the dogs. All of them with a beef about municipal goverment. As an afterthought, they asked for my input. I noted that I couldn't really speak for any of the other departments, but when everyone sits around talking about how 'The City oughta do this,' and 'The City oughta do that,' they had to remember that THEY were the city. If they didn't like something, they had to do something other than complain and daydream, and they needed to work together as a unified group. I went on for a while, talking about the need to work with the folks who live there, with the schools, with their council person. But not to expect others to do the work for them. (I've given this same advice to this same group for years now.) They all nodded their heads in thoughtful agreement. I had to leave not long after, and by that time they had definitely concluded that maybe in addition to the usual lunch meeting, they could possibly have a couple of breakfast meetings during the year. Maybe. Or maybe an after-work meeting. And that something needed to be done about crime. ::sigh::
Oh well. At least the food was good.
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