This morning Corey Billington, in our first Operations class, shared his experience on reducing Inventory Driven Costs, a term he coined while at Hewlett Packard. It became clear to me while I pondered the effect of time on cost that IMD candidates must be particularly economically rational. Unlike MBAs at other schools, we like ‘pain’. Our pleasure is not in dining in chateaux, like our contemporaries at Club Med, Fontainebleau. But it all makes sense.
At the start of the course, somebody claimed that we were paying CHF 25 per hour for the pleasure of being here. I guessed that this figure had been arrived at by dividing the cost of the course by 8 hours of lessons per day, 365 days the year. If we deduct the days when we are officially on holiday, it comes to CHF 31. So to derive the best return on our investment, we need to work as many hours as possible. Working for 365 days, 24 hours a day, gives us a very reasonable cost of CHF 8.56 per hour.
So it is that, after completing a set of annual accounts for a fictitious manufacturing company, it’s 10pm and we’re just about to launch into discussing the case of a bearings manufacturer in preparation for the marketing class tomorrow morning.
What’s not clear is if the sleeping heads in the front row this morning were suffering the results of working late or…
Thursday, 25 January 2007
Wednesday, 24 January 2007
Winter hits IMD
In a quick break from this morning’s class on ‘leading people in organisations’, where I’ve discovered that my main motivation is ‘Power’, followed closely by ‘Autonomy and Growth’, I’m taking the opportunity for a quick update...
The storm that struck northern Europe a few days ago has finally reached Switzerland. At last, the snow is coming down. My car this morning had about 10cm of snow on it. It’s really winter now and the temperature is dropping. Fast. Minimum forecast temperature in Geneva for Friday is -21C! About -10C during the day.
This is great news for the many ski resorts in the area. It’s clear that the Christmas holiday season was bad for all the businesses whose livelihoods depend on 4 or 5 months from December to April. With little snow on the slopes, many people chose to cancel their trips to the mountains. Many of the pistes have been brown for much of the last month. For day trips, it’s fine. We’ve been up to Verbier a couple of times over night and found enough decent snow to have a good time.
Tonight I’m meeting the start-up company that I’ll be helping over the next 5 months . I’m not sure what they do - other than that it’s a hi-tech company looking for US$5m - are what they want from our little group. However, they are going to get some 500 hours of help from 5 IMD MBAs. For free. We have about 35 years’ experience between us across a number of industries and disciplines.
The start-up project, just one of the assignments keeping us in the ‘Dungeon’ every night till midnight (or so), was one of the main reasons why I chose to come to IMD rather than take up one of the other offers I received. The school’s strapline is Real World. Real Learning. It’s cheesy but true and a clear differentiator.
The storm that struck northern Europe a few days ago has finally reached Switzerland. At last, the snow is coming down. My car this morning had about 10cm of snow on it. It’s really winter now and the temperature is dropping. Fast. Minimum forecast temperature in Geneva for Friday is -21C! About -10C during the day.
This is great news for the many ski resorts in the area. It’s clear that the Christmas holiday season was bad for all the businesses whose livelihoods depend on 4 or 5 months from December to April. With little snow on the slopes, many people chose to cancel their trips to the mountains. Many of the pistes have been brown for much of the last month. For day trips, it’s fine. We’ve been up to Verbier a couple of times over night and found enough decent snow to have a good time.
Tonight I’m meeting the start-up company that I’ll be helping over the next 5 months . I’m not sure what they do - other than that it’s a hi-tech company looking for US$5m - are what they want from our little group. However, they are going to get some 500 hours of help from 5 IMD MBAs. For free. We have about 35 years’ experience between us across a number of industries and disciplines.
The start-up project, just one of the assignments keeping us in the ‘Dungeon’ every night till midnight (or so), was one of the main reasons why I chose to come to IMD rather than take up one of the other offers I received. The school’s strapline is Real World. Real Learning. It’s cheesy but true and a clear differentiator.
Saturday, 9 December 2006
Learning to dive in Cape Verde
The clear, starry sky that greets our arrival at 3am has given way to clouds when we get up 5 hours later. Still, it is warm and the sun peeks through from time to time.
We settled on Cape Verde because we wanted a relaxing week by the sea where we could learn to dive without going too far. More travel, more new experiences, more learning.
The principal centre for diving in Cape Verde is at Santa Maria on the little island of Sal. A flat, small rock in the Atlantic ocean, it is buffeted by the wind that blows sand across from the Sahara. It is perhaps the least attractive of the 10-island archipelago lying 450km from Senegal on the West African coast.
Our first diving lesson is at 9am so an early start after little sleep. The Hotel Morabeza provides us a good breakfast buffet and then we’re set. We meet our dive instructor at the ScubaTeam Dive Club not 50m away. After a few formalities he suggests we return at 10am. So we take a walk along the fine sandy beach, watching the waves rolling in across the green sea.
The PADI Open Water Diver course consists of 5 modules of theory with 5 dives in ‘confined water’, usually in a classroom and swimming pool, followed by 4 open water dives, going down to a maximum of 18m below. Our classroom is the dive club beach hut; and for a swimming pool, we have the warm shallow waters a little way out to sea.
In the hut, we watch a DVD and seek clarification on any points that remain unclear before taking short tests to ensure understanding of each module. We’ll have an exam at the end of the course.
In the afternoon, it’s my first ever experience of breathing under water. We get kitted up, check over our gear and waddle down the beach to the water’s edge. We swim on our backs to a little buoy and get ready to go down. I find it difficult breathing and as we go down I have trouble ‘equalizing’, ie matching the pressure of the air in my airways, particularly ears, to the increased pressure from the water overhead. This creates a painful ‘squeeze’.
The problem stops me breathing normally – slowly, deeply, continuously. I have a small panic, motion to the instructor that I have a problem – using the sign language we’d learned in the classroom in the morning – and head straight back up. On the surface, I get myself together quickly and return gradually to the bottom, where Perrine has sunk like a rock.
I begin to feel more at ease and manage to do the 5 exercises without hesitation. I find myself surprisingly calm at taking out my breathing apparatus, letting the air bubble out of my mouth, then replacing it and blowing hard to clear the water out, before continuing to breath. End of module 1 and back up to the surface.
Module 2 involves a couple of rescue exercises on the surface then another descent. This time all good. It’s starting to feel natural already. By the time we’re back out on the beach I’m looking forward to the next session on Monday.
We take a shower to desalinate and a siesta then head out to make our 6pm appointment with l’Homme Tranquile. At lunch time, we’d been anticipated by a friendly local man who’d taken us to see his little craft shop. After Ghana, this was not a novel experience. He had some nice items but we had no cash and were in a bit of hurry to get to our afternoon dive. He didn’t believe we’d be back even after I’d given my word. He was amazed, therefore, when we showed up as promised to buy the items we’d seen and liked earlier.
We had dinner at a very small restaurant, Nocturno. It’s just a little kitchen with a window onto a small terrace. There are perhaps six tables with maximum seating of 14 or 15. The food is very good value. We enjoy some excellent grilled fish, wahoo and bica, with rice, chips and salad. Plus a couple of beers, of course.
We settled on Cape Verde because we wanted a relaxing week by the sea where we could learn to dive without going too far. More travel, more new experiences, more learning.
The principal centre for diving in Cape Verde is at Santa Maria on the little island of Sal. A flat, small rock in the Atlantic ocean, it is buffeted by the wind that blows sand across from the Sahara. It is perhaps the least attractive of the 10-island archipelago lying 450km from Senegal on the West African coast.
Our first diving lesson is at 9am so an early start after little sleep. The Hotel Morabeza provides us a good breakfast buffet and then we’re set. We meet our dive instructor at the ScubaTeam Dive Club not 50m away. After a few formalities he suggests we return at 10am. So we take a walk along the fine sandy beach, watching the waves rolling in across the green sea.
The PADI Open Water Diver course consists of 5 modules of theory with 5 dives in ‘confined water’, usually in a classroom and swimming pool, followed by 4 open water dives, going down to a maximum of 18m below. Our classroom is the dive club beach hut; and for a swimming pool, we have the warm shallow waters a little way out to sea.
In the hut, we watch a DVD and seek clarification on any points that remain unclear before taking short tests to ensure understanding of each module. We’ll have an exam at the end of the course.
In the afternoon, it’s my first ever experience of breathing under water. We get kitted up, check over our gear and waddle down the beach to the water’s edge. We swim on our backs to a little buoy and get ready to go down. I find it difficult breathing and as we go down I have trouble ‘equalizing’, ie matching the pressure of the air in my airways, particularly ears, to the increased pressure from the water overhead. This creates a painful ‘squeeze’.
The problem stops me breathing normally – slowly, deeply, continuously. I have a small panic, motion to the instructor that I have a problem – using the sign language we’d learned in the classroom in the morning – and head straight back up. On the surface, I get myself together quickly and return gradually to the bottom, where Perrine has sunk like a rock.
I begin to feel more at ease and manage to do the 5 exercises without hesitation. I find myself surprisingly calm at taking out my breathing apparatus, letting the air bubble out of my mouth, then replacing it and blowing hard to clear the water out, before continuing to breath. End of module 1 and back up to the surface.
Module 2 involves a couple of rescue exercises on the surface then another descent. This time all good. It’s starting to feel natural already. By the time we’re back out on the beach I’m looking forward to the next session on Monday.
We take a shower to desalinate and a siesta then head out to make our 6pm appointment with l’Homme Tranquile. At lunch time, we’d been anticipated by a friendly local man who’d taken us to see his little craft shop. After Ghana, this was not a novel experience. He had some nice items but we had no cash and were in a bit of hurry to get to our afternoon dive. He didn’t believe we’d be back even after I’d given my word. He was amazed, therefore, when we showed up as promised to buy the items we’d seen and liked earlier.
We had dinner at a very small restaurant, Nocturno. It’s just a little kitchen with a window onto a small terrace. There are perhaps six tables with maximum seating of 14 or 15. The food is very good value. We enjoy some excellent grilled fish, wahoo and bica, with rice, chips and salad. Plus a couple of beers, of course.
Tuesday, 28 November 2006
Six weeks to go
A relatively early start today. After Perrine leaves home at 8.20 to get to work late – as is customary for employees in the final week – I find myself unable to get back to sleep. Luckily I’m up and dressed when the doorbell rings a few minutes later.
Our Eurostar tickets have arrived. These are for the penultimate trip before it all gets real and it’s fast sinking in how little time is left and how much is going to happen in the next few weeks… Eurostar to Paris, TGV to Lille, back to Paris, flight to Cape Verde. Back a week later, take the van to London, collect stuff, head to Lausanne. Back to London for Christmas, drive to Champéry for the ski trip, picking up Perrine in Paris on the way.
So this morning I call UBS and make sure that I can still get my account all sorted this week, if I send all the necessary documents today. Yes, I’ve left it late but it can be done.
Last night I got an email from my mother offering me a financing option, which is very tempting. It involves something a little complicated as well as my little brother, so I discuss it with him. He seems keen. We’ll see how it pans out.
This afternoon, I intended to settle down to some nice financial management but the sun comes out while I’m having lunch and decide instead to head along the canal by Little Venice to take some pictures. Plus there are some workmen in my bathroom tearing out the shower floor, which has cracked and is leaking water through to the flat downstairs. Or at least I thought there were. They departed quietly, without saying word, leaving the front door on the latch. I begin to understand my mother’s lifelong frustration with builders etc.
So I finally get down to some nice financial ratios when I’m consumed by the urge to look at the MBA diary. The whole year, it seems, has been about transition for the class but in these final few days it’s about transitioning from a period of transition to stability. Something similar is happening to me. After nearly a year out of work, travelling, discovering places, peoples and myself, it’s fast coming to the time to switch to a different phase, yet it’s all still about shifting from where I was about 3 years ago to where I’ll be in 2008.
And all that thinking about life gets me thinking about writing about thinking about life. So here it is...
Our Eurostar tickets have arrived. These are for the penultimate trip before it all gets real and it’s fast sinking in how little time is left and how much is going to happen in the next few weeks… Eurostar to Paris, TGV to Lille, back to Paris, flight to Cape Verde. Back a week later, take the van to London, collect stuff, head to Lausanne. Back to London for Christmas, drive to Champéry for the ski trip, picking up Perrine in Paris on the way.
So this morning I call UBS and make sure that I can still get my account all sorted this week, if I send all the necessary documents today. Yes, I’ve left it late but it can be done.
Last night I got an email from my mother offering me a financing option, which is very tempting. It involves something a little complicated as well as my little brother, so I discuss it with him. He seems keen. We’ll see how it pans out.
This afternoon, I intended to settle down to some nice financial management but the sun comes out while I’m having lunch and decide instead to head along the canal by Little Venice to take some pictures. Plus there are some workmen in my bathroom tearing out the shower floor, which has cracked and is leaking water through to the flat downstairs. Or at least I thought there were. They departed quietly, without saying word, leaving the front door on the latch. I begin to understand my mother’s lifelong frustration with builders etc.
So I finally get down to some nice financial ratios when I’m consumed by the urge to look at the MBA diary. The whole year, it seems, has been about transition for the class but in these final few days it’s about transitioning from a period of transition to stability. Something similar is happening to me. After nearly a year out of work, travelling, discovering places, peoples and myself, it’s fast coming to the time to switch to a different phase, yet it’s all still about shifting from where I was about 3 years ago to where I’ll be in 2008.
And all that thinking about life gets me thinking about writing about thinking about life. So here it is...
Sunday, 19 November 2006
Goodbye to the Shoreditch Sharks RFC
Sunday 7.45am and I get up and get ready to drive over to Shoreditch Park. My boys are playing Away to Ealing RFC this morning and I need to make sure they’re all there by 10am to get ready for an 11am kick-off. It’s going to be tough: they’re a well-established club whose top team plays in London 1 against the likes of London Scottish. But it’s taken me two years to get this fixture into the diary and I’m happy that this will be the last game I take the boys to.
By 9.40, with only six boys, I’m forced to call Stuart to cancel. I’m apologetic and embarrassed. I’m also disappointed and angry that the communication and organisation within the club has started to crumble. For some reason, the updated fixtures list that was circulated did not have this game on it. Crappy way to end two years of dedication, getting up early on Sunday mornings to share a passion with some other peoples’ children.
To make the most of the situation, Tom Nicholson, who’s going to be a great replacement for me, and I decided we’d do a mini training session with the boys we had. At around 10.15 some more lads turned up thinking it was only training today. In the end, it was quite a good session. Some defensive drills, some attacking, finished off, at the request of the boys, with some high intensity fitness work. Meanwhile I took a couple of the boys off to coach them kicking.
After about 10 minutes of this, Tom called us back over to join the group. Charlie, who’d joined us when the club started up with no previous rugby experience and had made it into the Middlesex U14Bs, thanked me for my efforts with the boys and presented me with a replica shirt of the Pumas. It was touching.
I was then attacked by the biggest lads, including the inappropriately-named Junior, who’s a massive presence at 6ft4, as well as Joe, probably 6ft1 and spends his life body-building. I thought I did ok. I was wrestled to the ground and pounded. The rib I think I might have broken in the game I played last week seriously ached for the rest of the day. Even walking hurt. Did I say, ‘it was touching’?
I wish the club all the best in the year (or more) that I’m away.
I drove home, had lunch with Perrine, who’d got up at 11.30 to go for a run, then we caught the bus to Holland Park to enjoy the last of the sunshine. A typical winter’s day. Cold, clear and crisp. If there is something that I will miss in London, it will probably be the light in the winter time. The evening was rounded-off ice-skating at the National History Museum.
So passed one of the last Sundays in London: packing away the rugby coaching and saying our goodbyes to parts of the city we don’t usually visit.
By 9.40, with only six boys, I’m forced to call Stuart to cancel. I’m apologetic and embarrassed. I’m also disappointed and angry that the communication and organisation within the club has started to crumble. For some reason, the updated fixtures list that was circulated did not have this game on it. Crappy way to end two years of dedication, getting up early on Sunday mornings to share a passion with some other peoples’ children.
To make the most of the situation, Tom Nicholson, who’s going to be a great replacement for me, and I decided we’d do a mini training session with the boys we had. At around 10.15 some more lads turned up thinking it was only training today. In the end, it was quite a good session. Some defensive drills, some attacking, finished off, at the request of the boys, with some high intensity fitness work. Meanwhile I took a couple of the boys off to coach them kicking.
After about 10 minutes of this, Tom called us back over to join the group. Charlie, who’d joined us when the club started up with no previous rugby experience and had made it into the Middlesex U14Bs, thanked me for my efforts with the boys and presented me with a replica shirt of the Pumas. It was touching.
I was then attacked by the biggest lads, including the inappropriately-named Junior, who’s a massive presence at 6ft4, as well as Joe, probably 6ft1 and spends his life body-building. I thought I did ok. I was wrestled to the ground and pounded. The rib I think I might have broken in the game I played last week seriously ached for the rest of the day. Even walking hurt. Did I say, ‘it was touching’?
I wish the club all the best in the year (or more) that I’m away.
I drove home, had lunch with Perrine, who’d got up at 11.30 to go for a run, then we caught the bus to Holland Park to enjoy the last of the sunshine. A typical winter’s day. Cold, clear and crisp. If there is something that I will miss in London, it will probably be the light in the winter time. The evening was rounded-off ice-skating at the National History Museum.
So passed one of the last Sundays in London: packing away the rugby coaching and saying our goodbyes to parts of the city we don’t usually visit.
Sunday, 29 October 2006
Madrid Part 2
It was hot Saturday afternoon and, under the sun’s glare, the alcohol seeping through my sweat glands was bubbling on my skin. I could have flambéed a pancake on my forearms. Fortunately the terrace of our lunch spot was fully taken and we were forced to seek shelter indoors.
The glare of the waiter as we all traipsed in was as potent as the sun’s. By the end of lunch, though, he was laughing a little and taking pleasure in mimicking Sophia’s Portuguese pronunciation of six and my Argentinean pronunciation of vanilla.
Back out in the square, Javier informed us of an occasion when a hotel on one side of it had a certain room curtain left open in the early evening so that all could see in. It would, however, be inappropriate for me to repeat the details of the allegation.
OJ and Thomas went on a recce mission to see if the said hotel - now fully refurbished - had a roof terrace on which to enjoy a siesta. Thomas came back first and informed us it opened at 9pm. A few minutes later OJ reported that there were people on the terrace and so we headed up.
Greg made full use of the new white cushions to catch a nap, while Paul went to order some champagne. A lot later, 3 bottles arrived. And only a few minutes after we’d filled our glasses and taken the obligatory photos, the bar manager told us to leave and go back downstairs because the terrace was closed. Roland was quick to point out that we’d enjoyed the best part of the afternoon up there and the sun was starting to dip.
So we continued to drink champagne in the bar downstairs. Then caipirinhas. Then around 9pm we headed to another little tapas place for a couple of beers and some pre-dinner ham and cheese. I got to learn a little more about the business activities of my future classmates. Ivica is an equipment manager for the Croatian U19s women’s football team, specialising in balls. Thomas is an undertaker. Jonathan, in fact, is a vicar from Orkney, preaching in Ireland; or was it Irish vicar on a mission in Orkney? Paul, meanwhile, is an air steward for a defunct airline. So it was that I, a fashion photographer for plus-size catalogues, was now feeling at ease amidst this company.
Our dinner appointment was set at 10.30pm, nice and early to give us time to enjoy the nightlife later. Javier had once again pulled strings to obtain a booking for 21 at a restaurant that is such good value and good quality that reservations are not taken. You simply have to turn up and queue.
Finally, sitting down to dinner together, at three tables, I knew to expect a good, intellectual debate about pertinent economic issues. And so it was. Jorge, a madrileno who works in Zurich, joined the group now at this happy hour and was clearly drawn-in by Greg’s instincts for online enterprise. His ideas on interactivity and the use of avatars is surely ground-breaking. For some, it might even make the earth move.
So then, back up to the roof terrace to drink mojitos and watch the clocks go back an hour at 3am. Then, as it was starting to freshen up a little, we set off to a basement bar led by Jorge, where Thomas demonstrated his negotiating skills to get us in without queuing. Well, to be precise, some went back to the hotel, others to the bar and the rest remained with OJ’s compatriots.
The basement was packed full of young revellers plus the man with the widest grin in the world flinging his arms manically on the stage. It was some feat of engineering, surely, that kept his limbs attached to his meagre body as he flailed wildly. Still, nice to see young people turned out immaculately in a suit and tie of an evening. Perhaps he was connected with the man from Brazil that Paul had once met.
A Heineken later, it was time to savour a more upmarket place and so we waddled off to the Palacio Gaviria. Thank you to Ming Teck for supplying the photo with the name so that at least I know the name of one of the places we visited during the weekend. Well, some more dancing and a couple of drinks later, it was time to head back to the hotel. Another 7am finish.
I felt fine when I got up at 11am, joining Ivica and Thomas for coffee downstairs. After checking out, we then joined Javier, Alison, Bianca, Jonathan and, later, Ming Teck and Paul in the Parque Retiro for a drink of water in the shade. This is a really fun park, with lots of activity: puppet shows for kids; shiatsu specialists; rowing boats on the little lake and cafés offering drinks at reasonable prices.
After the rest had gone, Ivica, Ming Teck and I went to find lunch. A veritable feast of ham, cheese, salad, tomato bread etc and a couple of bottles of wine. With just enough time, we grabbed a taxi to the hotel, picked up our stuff and headed on to the airport to catch our flights to different European destinations.
The glare of the waiter as we all traipsed in was as potent as the sun’s. By the end of lunch, though, he was laughing a little and taking pleasure in mimicking Sophia’s Portuguese pronunciation of six and my Argentinean pronunciation of vanilla.
Back out in the square, Javier informed us of an occasion when a hotel on one side of it had a certain room curtain left open in the early evening so that all could see in. It would, however, be inappropriate for me to repeat the details of the allegation.
OJ and Thomas went on a recce mission to see if the said hotel - now fully refurbished - had a roof terrace on which to enjoy a siesta. Thomas came back first and informed us it opened at 9pm. A few minutes later OJ reported that there were people on the terrace and so we headed up.
Greg made full use of the new white cushions to catch a nap, while Paul went to order some champagne. A lot later, 3 bottles arrived. And only a few minutes after we’d filled our glasses and taken the obligatory photos, the bar manager told us to leave and go back downstairs because the terrace was closed. Roland was quick to point out that we’d enjoyed the best part of the afternoon up there and the sun was starting to dip.
So we continued to drink champagne in the bar downstairs. Then caipirinhas. Then around 9pm we headed to another little tapas place for a couple of beers and some pre-dinner ham and cheese. I got to learn a little more about the business activities of my future classmates. Ivica is an equipment manager for the Croatian U19s women’s football team, specialising in balls. Thomas is an undertaker. Jonathan, in fact, is a vicar from Orkney, preaching in Ireland; or was it Irish vicar on a mission in Orkney? Paul, meanwhile, is an air steward for a defunct airline. So it was that I, a fashion photographer for plus-size catalogues, was now feeling at ease amidst this company.
Our dinner appointment was set at 10.30pm, nice and early to give us time to enjoy the nightlife later. Javier had once again pulled strings to obtain a booking for 21 at a restaurant that is such good value and good quality that reservations are not taken. You simply have to turn up and queue.
Finally, sitting down to dinner together, at three tables, I knew to expect a good, intellectual debate about pertinent economic issues. And so it was. Jorge, a madrileno who works in Zurich, joined the group now at this happy hour and was clearly drawn-in by Greg’s instincts for online enterprise. His ideas on interactivity and the use of avatars is surely ground-breaking. For some, it might even make the earth move.
So then, back up to the roof terrace to drink mojitos and watch the clocks go back an hour at 3am. Then, as it was starting to freshen up a little, we set off to a basement bar led by Jorge, where Thomas demonstrated his negotiating skills to get us in without queuing. Well, to be precise, some went back to the hotel, others to the bar and the rest remained with OJ’s compatriots.
The basement was packed full of young revellers plus the man with the widest grin in the world flinging his arms manically on the stage. It was some feat of engineering, surely, that kept his limbs attached to his meagre body as he flailed wildly. Still, nice to see young people turned out immaculately in a suit and tie of an evening. Perhaps he was connected with the man from Brazil that Paul had once met.
A Heineken later, it was time to savour a more upmarket place and so we waddled off to the Palacio Gaviria. Thank you to Ming Teck for supplying the photo with the name so that at least I know the name of one of the places we visited during the weekend. Well, some more dancing and a couple of drinks later, it was time to head back to the hotel. Another 7am finish.
I felt fine when I got up at 11am, joining Ivica and Thomas for coffee downstairs. After checking out, we then joined Javier, Alison, Bianca, Jonathan and, later, Ming Teck and Paul in the Parque Retiro for a drink of water in the shade. This is a really fun park, with lots of activity: puppet shows for kids; shiatsu specialists; rowing boats on the little lake and cafés offering drinks at reasonable prices.
After the rest had gone, Ivica, Ming Teck and I went to find lunch. A veritable feast of ham, cheese, salad, tomato bread etc and a couple of bottles of wine. With just enough time, we grabbed a taxi to the hotel, picked up our stuff and headed on to the airport to catch our flights to different European destinations.
Friday, 27 October 2006
Madrid Part 1
Way back in August, I’d read a thread on the IMD MBA 2007 web forum about a get-to-know-your-classmates weekend in Madrid, organised by Javier Asensio. With some Airmiles to burn, I thought I’d take full advantage of the opportunity. This was going to be a serious weekend, with Javier pulling strings at the Prado for a private tour of the museum’s special collection.
OK, I exaggerate a little. Still, I knew in advance that the people I’d be meeting were not run-of-the-mill: these are the business leaders of the future. After all, IMD bills the MBA class as 90 exceptional people who will shape the future of business. Hmm.
So when I got an email from Greg Davis to meet up in London last Sunday, I gratefully accepted, partly so that I wouldn’t be too overwhelmed meeting everyone at the same time. Greg managed to bring Amir Ahmad, Chief Simplification Officer of mobile telecoms to internet company Txtfo. Perrine and I were also glad to meet Greg’s wife, Jodie, and Michael, the partner of another of our classmates, Anna, who coincidentally is in Ghana right now.
....
Greg and I happened to be on the same flight but didn’t spot each other until we arrived in Madrid airport. In the taxi to the hotel, I was ashamed to admit that I’d let him down by not bringing my running gear, as I’d promised back in London. He eased my conscience by telling me he probably wouldn’t go for a run. Except that as soon as we’d checked in, around 6pm, Greg went for a run and I went with Ivica Pavic, with whom I was sharing a room, to join some of the rest of the group at a tapas bar. I imagined they were having coffee in the last of the sunshine and a shot of caffeine would do me some good.
I didn’t realise, however, that I was out for the evening, that we’d be heading to dinner from there and that my first drink would be beer. I had the privilege of meeting some of the finest young business minds around Europe: Caroline Hamrit, Thomas Buss, Bianca Chinescu as well as Paul Gabie.
We had a couple more beers before taking the scenic route to the next tapas bar via the Plaza de Espana and the Royal Palace. By the time we left the second bar, the rest of the group had joined, we’d consumed several bottles of wine and a lot of beer. I had also gorged myself on a small piece of bread with a lump of tuna mix on top - dinner.
Another bar and OJ got to know some of his compatriots.
If the next paragraph appears to be in note form, it is because my recollection is in note form. A little walk and a long-ish queue to get into a small bar with a dance floor downstairs and a balcony upstairs. Some dancing and drinking. The world’s fastest/shortest dance act ever performed on the miniscule dance floor while the many punters were shoved into the tight corners to allow the performers to show their skills. Very impressive. Some actividades incontroladas. OJ got to know one of his compatriots even better. Some people stayed longer, some left earlier. I think it was late when I took my leave. Well, it was some time after 7am when I got to bed.
Meanwhile, Goncalo and Sophia, having driven from Porto, at 4.30am were busily trying to check in to their room at the hotel, except that between Ming Teck and Paddy Jansen, the couple’s room had been occupied. I’m not sure I’d have been quite as jovial as they were about it over breakfast.
Breakfast, actually, was a quick coffee and croissant in the hotel café, around 1.15pm, before the scenic route to lunch. With just a little dinner and a lot of alcohol, even my rarely hungover constitution was performing below par. But I gave up regretting drinking excessively some time ago.
OK, I exaggerate a little. Still, I knew in advance that the people I’d be meeting were not run-of-the-mill: these are the business leaders of the future. After all, IMD bills the MBA class as 90 exceptional people who will shape the future of business. Hmm.
So when I got an email from Greg Davis to meet up in London last Sunday, I gratefully accepted, partly so that I wouldn’t be too overwhelmed meeting everyone at the same time. Greg managed to bring Amir Ahmad, Chief Simplification Officer of mobile telecoms to internet company Txtfo. Perrine and I were also glad to meet Greg’s wife, Jodie, and Michael, the partner of another of our classmates, Anna, who coincidentally is in Ghana right now.
....
Greg and I happened to be on the same flight but didn’t spot each other until we arrived in Madrid airport. In the taxi to the hotel, I was ashamed to admit that I’d let him down by not bringing my running gear, as I’d promised back in London. He eased my conscience by telling me he probably wouldn’t go for a run. Except that as soon as we’d checked in, around 6pm, Greg went for a run and I went with Ivica Pavic, with whom I was sharing a room, to join some of the rest of the group at a tapas bar. I imagined they were having coffee in the last of the sunshine and a shot of caffeine would do me some good.
I didn’t realise, however, that I was out for the evening, that we’d be heading to dinner from there and that my first drink would be beer. I had the privilege of meeting some of the finest young business minds around Europe: Caroline Hamrit, Thomas Buss, Bianca Chinescu as well as Paul Gabie.
We had a couple more beers before taking the scenic route to the next tapas bar via the Plaza de Espana and the Royal Palace. By the time we left the second bar, the rest of the group had joined, we’d consumed several bottles of wine and a lot of beer. I had also gorged myself on a small piece of bread with a lump of tuna mix on top - dinner.
Another bar and OJ got to know some of his compatriots.
If the next paragraph appears to be in note form, it is because my recollection is in note form. A little walk and a long-ish queue to get into a small bar with a dance floor downstairs and a balcony upstairs. Some dancing and drinking. The world’s fastest/shortest dance act ever performed on the miniscule dance floor while the many punters were shoved into the tight corners to allow the performers to show their skills. Very impressive. Some actividades incontroladas. OJ got to know one of his compatriots even better. Some people stayed longer, some left earlier. I think it was late when I took my leave. Well, it was some time after 7am when I got to bed.
Meanwhile, Goncalo and Sophia, having driven from Porto, at 4.30am were busily trying to check in to their room at the hotel, except that between Ming Teck and Paddy Jansen, the couple’s room had been occupied. I’m not sure I’d have been quite as jovial as they were about it over breakfast.
Breakfast, actually, was a quick coffee and croissant in the hotel café, around 1.15pm, before the scenic route to lunch. With just a little dinner and a lot of alcohol, even my rarely hungover constitution was performing below par. But I gave up regretting drinking excessively some time ago.
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