From great to good

The new single from Little Man Tate finally hit the streets (and iTunes Music Store) on the 28th. So there I was clicking away impatiently waiting for the downloads to finish. 20 minutes later I'm a bit frustrated and disappointed. I can't believe how an otherwise great and promising band can hype a single totally out of proportions and then fail to deliver the way Little Man Tate does on "House party at Boothy's".

It's not that it's a bad effort, it's just that during the past months I've come to expect much more from the lads. The new single has a dull edge, slightly boring guitar riffs, no in-your-face-beats and the lyrics are showing a desperate lack of imagination and renewal. It even sounds like Jon Windle (vocals) is a bit disattached and I sit back with a feeling that the band itself did not enjoy making this single.

If you're already familiar with Little Man Tate, then go and buy (click, click) the damn single and be happy to support a band with great potential. If you're new to the band I strongly suggest you buy the singles "The Agent" and "What, what you got?" first. That way you'll know what this band is capable of and wont be scared away by the mediocre new single.

Even better. Go see them live. I haven't have the pleasure myself but it's an experience that comes highly recommended.

JB

Food

This blog is not about bashing Americans for being an uncultured and somewhat ignorant bunch of arrogant people, but when evidence of such a behavior is waving it's presence right in my face, I just have to hit the keyboard and type away.

This Saturday night I went to what you might classify as a "Gourmet Restaurant" You know, the kind of place that will serve you a tasting menu of 6-7 different dishes and offer wine that goes very well with the food. You go to a place like this with high expectations and looking forward to all the hidden surprises a master chef can put into a meal, like unorthodox or even controversial use of spices and ingredients. In a nutshell each dish and the wine that goes with it, is well thought through and is served exactly the way the chef intended it to be. Without sounding pretentious it's food bordering on art.

So, I'm sitting there stuffing my face with truffles served with tomatoes and vanilla sauce when an obviously American couple enters the restaurant. Obvious, because the 70-something woman is wearing an almost fluorescent pink dress (and trainers) and looks like she draws heavily on Barbara Bush and Dame Edna for fashion advice. The much younger man (her son?) is perhaps in his 40s and one glance at his oversized camera, short sleeved shirt and what looks like pants he got from a UPS guy (and trainers) makes it evident that here's a 100% genuine American couple.
It's also immediately evident to the trained eye that this couple is in a wrong place - they don't belong in a place like this. Oh, they're probably loaded with dosh and could buy the restaurant fifty times if they wanted to, but when it comes to food appreciation I'm guessing they're not exactly trained in that particular area. My suspicion is soon confirmed...

After taking in the scene for a whole 45 seconds the guy raises his hand and shouts "Waiter"...hmmm...OK, he might be hungry. The waiter brings a cart and offers a selection of 7 or 8 different kinds of Champagne. He starts to explain the subtle difference between the various bottles, but receives little interest from the couple. They end up ordering something with "Chateau" in the name because they "like the French stuff" (the couple obviously unaware of the fact that ALL Champagne is French...).
The 6 piece tasting menu seems to contain a lot of things they haven't heard about, so instead of trying something new (and maybe get a pleasant surprise) they order the closest thing to steak on the menu - Chateaubriand. After what seems like 15 min - during which the man is clearly getting more and more impatient - the finely prepared and well presented meal is arriving at their table. The meat looks very good and perfectly cooked and is served together with a fungi pie and mashed potatoes. Not good enough for Mr. American. He insists (rather loudly) that the take the meat back on cock it some more. The waiter kindly explains that this Chateaubriand is supposed to be served not too well done, but the couple insists and the waiter politely takes the meat away and goes to ruin it in the kitchen. After returning with the now obliterated meat the couple change their minds and decides that they, after all, will enjoy some red wine with the meal. Cue the sommelier.
The wine expert explains to them that with this particular meal he highly recommends some Italian red that goes very well with the fungi, or perhaps an Australian Shiraz to complement the meat. Of course the couple ignores his advice and goes for a French Beaujolais (they like "the French stuff...") that is very well known to go down well with chicken and white meat but is totally missing the mark when it comes to red (well, former red in this case) meat.
And finally, 5 minutes into their over cooked Chateaubriand, they finally prove they're true red, white and blue bleeding Americans: "Waiter, can we have some Ketchup?"

JB

Fergie

Dear Fergie

Please return to the Black Eyed Peas immediately. Your solo effort is rubbish.

P.S: I realize that you're an American and as such I expect you to be a little ignorant about certain things. However, if you must use a European landmark, London Bridge, as a title for your single the very least you could do is to make sure to use the right bridge for your cover. The bridge in the background is in fact Tower Bridge...

JB

Unemployment

There's an interesting public debate about unemployment going on in Denmark right now. The Big Morning Papers all had a story about how the National Postal Service needed 100 mailmen but only received 26 applications and ended up hiring only 3 of the 5 (of the 26) that actually showed up for a job briefing. This story emerged on the back of another story last week about some newspaper distributing companies that had to import 2700 polish workers to distribute their newspapers in the capital area, as apparently no-one living in Denmark wanted those jobs either. The city of Copenhagen has 22.000 registered unemployed.

These stories both caused a minor outrage, especially from politicians to the right of the middle, and people generally felt that if unemployed fit people refused to work, or even refused to apply for a job, they should be punished by reducing their access to social services and decreasing their financial benefits from the state.

I found this odd. Being a mailman is a respectable profession and well paid too - 11.500 GBP, with pension plan, 6 weeks vacation etc. Working for a distributing company pays a little less, but still enough to make an honest living. So, I was baffled.
Listening to a radio talk show today, it dawned on me that the media had completely failed to tell the whole story. It turned out that the 110 mailmen where only needed on Saturdays (so you can forget the 11.500 p.a) and that the distributing company required people to work odd hours (00.00 - 06.30) So the real reason behind the lack of applications was not due to the unemployed being lazy, but due to the fact that a) you cannot support yourself, or even a family, by working just Saturdays and b) Single moms and dads and everybody else with a healthy social life cannot work odd hours - and the companies were not prepared to pay enough for the night stints.

My lesson is (again alas) that one should NEVER trust what the media presents as fact and one should ALWAYS investigate before making up their mind.

JB

Black hat llist

As mentioned earlier I find it difficult to find motivation for my work at the moment. I know that all jobs has their dark sides and are loaded with tasks that are dull and boring so I've made a list of the things that are annoying me the most for the moment:

1 - The fact that we'll have to move office soon means that I'll know face a 50 min. morning commute through heavy traffic. The commute back will take around 40 min. for a total of 90 min. a day. Presently my total commute time is 25 min. so this represents a 260% increase in time spend in agonizing pain on the roads of greater Copenhagen. Using public transportation is not an option, as I need the car for work.

2 - The fact that "The company that shall remain nameless for keeping my job reasons" has decided to increase my yearly revenue target (thus lowering the commission pay) 45 days BEFORE the end of the fiscal year. Of course it's in the contract that the company can change the targets at their discretion, but moving the goal posts so close to the finish line is not very motivating.

3 - The fact that the organization is moving towards more centralized control generates a lot of redundant reporting and inputting (is that a word?) as the central people are "struggling to understand our business" All good, but taking item 2 above into consideration I don't really have time to fill out the plethora of spreadsheets and Powerpoints that they keep requesting.

4 - The fact that people on the country levels are reduced to monkies as we're required to run around in circles implementing all sorts of sales and marketing programs that come out of central without any control over local implementation. I'm a seasoned sales executive and I think I should be able to spot a good sales program from a bad one.

5- The fact that the company insists on enforcing an antiquated "Room Sharing Policy" when people get together in large groups for tradeshows etc. This also applies if you're working week-ends and late night. Room sharing is OK if you're in the boy scouts, but asking adult professional people to accept this is ludicrous, especially when considering that the duration of the stay can easily be 4 days or more. I need my privacy.

6 - The fact that the Nordic regional HQ is placed in Stockholm and the Nordic MD is doing everything he possibly can to "bring the group closer together and become more regional" This sounds like a good idea, but in real life it roughly translates into "give us (in Sweden) some information using this template, that closely resembles the template you've already filled out once, only structure the information in a slightly different way" Sigh.

7 - The fact that my boss (or rather his boss or his boss' boss) has developed a nasty habit of dumping "urgent things that cannot wait" on my desk. Usually this kind of work needs top priority which means that I'll probably have to spend yet another evening working instead of having fun and chasing women.

8- The fact that I get into the office around 6.30 AM and leave 12 hrs. later while my colleagues (including my boss) are happily living the 9-5 dream.

9 - The fact that lately some boring and recurring administrative tasks have been assigned to me because the company is too cheap to hire a sales support person. Usually dirt travels south, but I cannot ask my assistant to do it as she's already got her hands full, so I'm stuck with the lame job(s) of typing in long sequences of numbers in user un-friendly sales support systems.

10 - The fact that my colleagues are annoying me with their endless chatter about gardening, children, pets and all sorts of rubbish that I don't really relate to.

So these are the hard facts. Maybe tomorrow I'll do the positive list and see if I can manage to balance the Ick/Yay-factor.

JB

Unexpected company

Four years ago I had a short and intense affair with a married woman. It wasn’t a plain vanilla love affair, it was more like a sexual thing. Not too many feelings involved but what we lacked in affection was more than made up for in terms of physical attraction.

Sandra (not her real name) was not only married. She also had 2 kids and lived with her husband, kids, sister and a friend of a friend in a huge flat situated right in the center of the city.

I’ll never understand how she ended up getting married. Sandra is many things, but monogamous is definitely not one of them and I was just yet another guy in a long line of guys (and girls) enjoying her skills between the sheets.

Now, some people might be tempted to call her a cheating promiscuous slut, but we all have our demons and we should not judge others on how they chose to fight theirs.

Anyway, a few nights back I was sitting home alone in my new flat feeling frustrated about the fact that my internet connection was still not working.

Sulking in the beanbag I’m interrupted by a subtle knock on the door and as I slowly move down the hallway I can see the frame of a woman through the frosted glass. Opening the door renders my speechless. It’s Sandra. Haven’t seen her for four years and there she is looking more beautiful, slim and fit than ever. As I lean down to give her a hug I get an immediate response in my pants and smelling her perfume I instantly get some rather naughty flashbacks.

After the usual “oh-my-god-it’s-been-too-long”-greetings we end up on the couch with a chilled bottle of Chardonnay and the best crisps the house has to offer. As time progresses and the bottle of Chardonnay is joined by a few of it’s cousins Sandra tells me a story of divorce, depression and separation from her children.

Later that evening we end up cuddling in bed but there’s no sex, only words, and as she leaves early the following morning I realize that I might have gained something very unusual for me: a female friend.

JB

No connection

I'm still dealing with the fact that I have no internet connection in my new flat. It's driving me crazy that the ISP needs more than 3 weeks (!) to move a single line. How hard can it be?
Why is it that ISPs are focusing more on keeping their investors happy than satisfying their customers? With the huge profits that the telcos' are making these days, would it be so difficult for them to hire more people to do their work?

Ahh...I'm ranting...but I'm really annoyed by the fact that I'm taken hostage by an arrogant company. Anyway, Friday is the day when they're supposed to come by and connect the little wires that are sticking out of the socket in my home office. So maybe next week, I can start blogging again on a regular basis.

It also means that I can start to catch up with the lives of my favorite bloggers...

JB

Job Blues

I'm an ungrateful pathetic little twat. I have The Job that most people at my age and in the same business would absolutely be thrilled to have. Put my job (and a few past ones..) on your CV and most companies would hire you without asking any questions. Pay is good, the challenges are plenty, lots of European travel and all set nicely in a highly dynamic, innovative and international atmosphere.

In theory I should be happy, almost ecstatic, about my job situation but, alas, I'm not. I constantly feel the need to challenge and defy the management and most of my colleagues are annoying the living daylights out of me. Not quite sure what's causing this to happen to me, but I'm going through some kind of job-only depression and what's scary about this is that usually I'm very good at self-motivation but this time I feel truly stuck and all of my usual mental tricks acts like wet powder.

The company pan-Nordic social and semi-serious summer event is taking place in the near future and my mood is not getting any better thinking about that I'll have to go through the suffering of spending 48 hours listening to the drunken rants and ramblings of my Nordic peers, whose lives and ideas I don't give a toss about.

I need to think this through and pray to the job-satisfaction-fairies that I get through this pretty quickly.

JB

Let them eat cake

I very rarely eat cake and I think it must have been 5-6 years since I last set foot inside a bakery. It's not that I don't like cakes and sweet things, it's just that, well, I rarely touch the stuff.
Yesterday my 3 year old niece and her mother (my sister) came to visit, and since they, especially the little one, absolutely adore cakes and pastry I felt obligated to swing by the local bakery and buy some treats after work. Remembering that my niece really likes "Potato cake" (no veggies in there. It's basically vanilla cream inside some kind of baked dough with marzipan on top) so I had my mind firmly set. I wanted potato cake. The young girl in the bakery informed me that potato cake had sold out and I kindly declined her alternate offers and went away thinking that I could just pick up the cakes at another bakery.

4 bakeries and 0 potato cakes later it slowly dawned on me that this was a particular popular type of pastry and that the entire city was sold out and had been sold out since around noon. No potato cake. I was in a potato cake dessert.

What makes me wonder is that all the bakeries I visited had the same kinds of cake left at 17.45 and I wonder if bakers are just very poor at forecasting their sale or if there is some economic reason behind the fact that after 12.00 it's impossible to buy certain varieties of pastry because they sell out?
So, potato cake must be a very un-democratic pastry if the only way to get it is if you're unemployed or having a day off or something, so you can actually go to the bakery before they sell out?

I got 3 pieces of Danish instead. 2 are gone, mine is in the bin.

JB

The Parisian Date

Upon arrival at Paris’ Charles de Gaulle airport it always strikes me as bizarre that the normally very sophisticated Frenchmen allows its visitors to be greeted by one of the shabbiest and brassy capital airports in Europe. However, thinking about my imminent tête-à-tête with the lovely K I soon forget the sad excuse for an international airport and leave the tackiness of the airport behind me.

Having done my homework, I already now that the lovely K and I are staying in the same hotel, and upon my arrival I cross the consigner’s palm with enough euros to have him arrange that flowers and a personal note are brought to the Lovely K’s room before her arrival.

Friday night is the big night and I’ve arranged it so K will meet me on a street corner not far from the opera.
K arrives on looks like a dream, kissing her I have to fight the urge to go straight back to the hotel and share a passionate night of intimacy.
My favorite restaurant in Paris looks like it hasn’t changed since the 40s. The small downstairs reception area and bistro is bustling and the shouting of the locals blended with the faint murmur of the tourists combined with a traditional French menu makes it the perfect setting for a romantic date.

After dinner we stroll down the quaint narrow street outside the restaurant, talking, kissing, enjoying being together and both having that wonderful feeling of anticipation.
We’re now trying to get back to the hotel. It’s far to walk and we start to look for a taxi as we slowly saunter in the general direction of the hotel savoring the sounds and smells of the Parisian summer night. I suddenly realize that walking along the boulevards of Paris K and I are for the first time engaging in a real conversation about real things. Before, at the restaurant, we talked mostly shop interrupted only be sporadic flirtatious remarks and stolen kisses. But now it’s different. K talk about her childhood in Israel, how her family moved to the UK and how they struggled to get accepted in their new home. I talk about my childhood and about growing up in the comfort of a typical family. My story is totally different from hers but somehow we’re both able to relate and to understand.

Two hours later arriving at the hotel having walked all the way I find myself thinking about K in a different and more profound way. Before our little promenade I was entranced and captivated by her femininity and perfect beauty but post-walk I feel connected on a deeper level and see the sketchy outlines of a very interesting and wonderfully challenging person.

The sex was good and made in heaven, but the real treasure was found during a slow paced stroll through empty city streets and busy boulevards and the most exciting penetration was not one of the flesh but one of the mind.

Back in rotten Denmark sitting in my new flat looking out on the rain, body still sore from the week-end’s horizontal activities I feel that a fragile seed has been planted and that there’s now a whole new universe for me to discover.

Am I in love? Probably not. But I’m definitely in a very different place than I was before my Parisian date.


JB

Back but busy

I'm back at work again after a week of vacation and moving to my new flat.
My internet connection at home is still not up, and my ISP has managed to "squeeze me in already on the 18th" which is of course totally unacceptable, but being and old state monopoly with a 90%+ market share they pretty much live in a pre-millennium world and think they can basically treat customers any way they like.

I have a lot to talk and write about but my mailbox is screaming for attention and I need to wade through some 1000+ mails and figure out which ones to ignore and which ones I better not ignore.

My rendevous with the Lovely K in Paris went very well (if I close my eyes I can still see her walking around the hotel room in nothing but high heels) but I'll save the details for later when I have more time and a clearer head.

JB