So as the urban legend goes... I was supposed to be meeting a senior consultant from my company who had flown over especially from Houston to join me in a meeting with the UK Government. Here we were going to discuss the demure and most serious topics of energy policy. The plan was put in place weeks before with military precision of getting the kids into breakfast club at school giving me time to get to an early train into London, meeting up and off we go... all the while being very demure and serious. Military precision and pre-planning is of course no match for the random temperament of a child who takes a notion into their head, a mood into the soul or whatever and frankly you're now there as an observer who's entire goal is just focussed on surviving and getting them out the door. In fact, I often wonder why we don't have a volunteer army of toddlers and young children. Seriously... fraught Syria negotiations? Send in a bunch of 4-5 year olds armed with haribo, toys that play annoying tunes and just as you close the door say "did you know the Syrian President loves a good game of duck duck goose?" and after about 30 minutes the politicians and leaders will be begging for World Peace if you'd only just let them out....
Sorry, I digress...
Needless to say kids were thrown in the door at breakfast club late requiring me to sprint in heels to the station arriving late with only a few minutes to spare. At that point I realised I'd left my purse at home. I called the consultant guy and started off very rationally explaining my predicament and the fact I would now Not be able to join him in London. However as the call progressed and my emotions vented I began to get into the mood, decibels rising with some dramatic hysteria thrown in, I ended my speech by howling "I have no money, I'm hot, I'm sweaty and I'm covered in porridge!" I could actually hear the tumbleweed on the end of the phone.
The gentleman remained everything I wished I could be; cool, calm and collected. He told me to hunt around the dregs of my handbag and see if I had any change (Men aren't supposed to know that kind of thing). I literally scrounged enough coppers for a single to London. His advice was just get on the train and we'll work it out.
As I stepped off the train, composure restored and completely mortified at my drama this gentleman met me at Waterloo station with a fistful of dollars (well Great British Pounds but it didn't sound as good), a packet of wet wipes for some impromptu dry cleaning and a large latte. That day he was my hero...
So it turns out that whilst all senior and executive now with fully grown kids, the memory of juggling it all was still very fresh in his mind. There was no judgement, disapproval or general scorn at my pathetic-ness. Just a sense of camaraderie between a veteran of the war and a currently serving officer.
So while I don't advocate emotional outbursts at work as an every day occurrence, sometimes life does take its toll and an occasional meltdown not only reminds us we're human but sometimes, out of the ashes, you find help and support in the place you'd least expect it....
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