An important function - part two

As the week advanced the tension surrounding the function began to mount. There seemed to be no end to the things that needed attending to - every couple of hours Marc Bottoni’s PA came up to me with another item that had to be included. On the plus side, and against all my expectations, there was a respectable amount of interest from the media, and I became confident that from a PR point of view the event would be a moderate success.

Friday morning arrived, and as soon I got to the office several people rushed up to tell me that there was a television crew waiting in the front reception. I walked across to the Front Offices and found a very scruffy cameraman, on his own, who explained he wanted to take some preliminary film for the local television news programme. He said another TV film crew would arrive later to cover the actual event. I showed the cameraman around the site, unsure what he wanted to film. It was interesting to see how pleased various managers became when they had a camera pointed at them. This feeling of self-importance was infectious, and I began to enjoy the kudos that accrued to me as a generator of publicity (even Eric Morgan treated me with respect).

Not everything went smoothly however. Late morning (eleven o’clock) the fire alarms went off and all the buildings had to be evacuated. Personnel Assistant Carol Forrest (tall, slim, always looks ironically amused) rushed around, radiant with excitement. We all stood in the car park while a fire engine drove slowly round the warehouses. It was soon established that it was a false alarm and everyone filed back into the offices. If it had occurred two hours later it would have ruined the event.

I went back to the Training Centre through the Drivers’ Rest Room - warehouse operative Scottie (Scott Randall - early twenties, slim build, curly fair hair cut very short) was lounging on one of the benches, one foot up on the table, obviously having made no effort to follow the fire evacuation drill. I didn’t care whether he followed the drill or not, but as I passed he gave me a defiant sort of look, as if challenging me to report him. There always seems to be an “us and them” division between the office staff and the uniform personnel.

Upstairs the main room in the Training Centre looked perfect. The newly painted boards, displaying the company logos, had been fixed to the walls, and the buffet lunch had been laid out on tables all along one side. Flower arrangements had appeared, as if from nowhere, giving the room a festive look (I still don’t know who did these).

There was then a period, lasting about half an hour, when everything was in place, and all I could do was wait for the event to start (this half hour seemed endless).

At twelve-thirty company managers gathered upstairs in the Training Room, Marc Bottoni walking around nervously. As guests (mostly corporate customers) arrived they were brought upstairs, introduced to Marc Bottoni, and then passed on to whoever had been delegated to look after them. From the windows we could see the directors from Group plc milling about the yard in a long moment of gorgeous autumnal sunshine (“The sun shines on the righteous” said Eric Morgan, his voice heavy with sarcasm).

There was a last minute fluster when the wine glasses, borrowed from the shop that supplied the wine, were found to be extremely dirty. Two PAs rushed down to the tiny kitchen and washed them up, their voices shrieking with excitement. Marc Bottoni gave me black look, as if it was all my fault (Carol Forrest had in fact ordered the wine and arranged the loan of glasses).

A local television crew arrived (different channel from the one in the morning) and I took them into the case-making department to film the young packers. As well as television there were four local newspapers, two trade magazines, and a “stringer” at the event, so the PR feel to the afternoon was quite respectable. Talking to the reporters, I got the impression they were more interested in the former minister’s opinion on an aspect of national party politics rather than the actual event, but I kept this to myself.

I was downstairs in the general melee of arriving guests when the former minister appeared (completely alone). Ex-ministerial eyes looked warily around the people gathered in Reception as if not wanting to waste effusive greetings on comparative nobodies. Eventually Mitch Holmes moved forward to give the official welcome and provide an escort upstairs to the waiting reception committee.

The arrival of the former minister signalled the start to the afternoon’s proceedings. Wine was handed round (Vouvray, which was horrible). Speeches were made. The plaque was unveiled.
There was then a tour of the site by the former minister, senior managers and the directors from Group plc. I followed behind with my own tour party of the media. The two groups merged in the packing department where the former minister watched as the TV crew picked out the most photogenic case-makers and filmed them as they “worked” (looking very self-conscious).

Returning to the Training Centre, the former minister went off with Marc Bottoni into one of the small rooms to give interviews to the reporters. The buffet lunch, which had included huge amounts of sandwiches, had been almost entirely consumed by the other guests while the tours were taking place, leaving virtually nothing for the VIPs. I moved form one boring conversation to another, beginning to feel tired after so much standing around.

Eventually the former minister left in a flurry of (probably false) felicitations. The ten or so black-suited directors from Group plc then took centre stage, receiving the homage of the senior management team (“Who are all these people?” Sarah Linton asked, her voice rather loud and sounding tipsy from the Vouvray). At four o’clock the Group plc directors left and the mood in the room seemed to experience a collective moment of relief.

Long after the former minister had departed a local BBC radio reporter turned up and seemed miffed that there was no-one important that he could interview.

As the function came to a close and people drifted back to their desks lots of compliments came my way about how well everything had gone. The divisional managing director came up and shook my hand and told me how well things had been organised (I was surprised he even knew who I was). Marc Bottoni, looking pleased as punch, came up and shook my hand, his eyes crinkled up with pleasure behind his thick-lens glasses (presumably he had had a good afternoon toadying to his Group plc masters).

Much later, as I sat at my desk feeling exhausted and wondering whether I really wanted to go on doing this job, Ann Norman rang me to say that my new business cards would be delayed - Marc Bottoni wanted them to say Marketing Manager, not Marketing Executive.