The Shirt Off My Back
I had a crack of dawn meeting with my boss, Donalda McKinnon and she suggested we go to the ±«Óãtv canteen. I had to brief her on our commissioning decisions in advance of sharing our plans more widely next week. It was so cold in Glasgow this morning that I'd pulled on a wooly jumper. Of course, I usually wear a shirt and tie, but but I hadn't expected such a negative reaction to the jumper.
"Now Jeff, "said Donalda, fixing me with the kind of steely gaze that took me right back to those days when I was called into the headmaster's office at school, "tell me this...does your wife dress you in the morning?"
It took a moment for the penny to drop then I realised that I was wearing the jumper outside-in. I quickly took it off, attracting the attention of the canteen staff.
Mind you, this isn't the worst thing that has happened to me during a meeting with my superiors. About eight years ago, my then boss Maggie Cunningham invited me out to lunch to discuss my "career plan" . It was a lovely summer's day and we strolled along to the restaurant. I was wearing a crisp blue shirt and tie. No jacket.
No sooner had lunch been served (liver & onions) than I made a bold gesture to emphasise my profound views on broadcasting and brought my hand down on the fork that had been resting on my plate. It catapulted a payload of gravy-coated onions onto my shirt. All attempts to dab it away with my napkin failed so I made a dash for the bathroom and tried to wash the mess away with some water.
Of course, all this did was create a huge dark blue stain on my light blue shirt. That's when I had the bright idea to remove my shirt completely, give it a rinse in the basin and then dry it under the heat of the hand-dryer.
I did manage to get most of the stain washed away, then gave the shirt a good twist to remove the excess water. That's when I discovered there was no hand-dryer on the wall...just one of those metal boxes that dispense paper towels.
I had no alternative but to slither my way back into my dripping shirt and return to the table with my boss. She was kind enough to say nothing. Even when I started to shake and shiver, she said nothing. When a small pool of water collected around my chair, she still said nothing.
But neither did we continue the conversation about my career plan.
