There’s definitely a more relaxed tone in the office this week, as M.D. Underwood is currently on a business trip to our sister company in LA. In some ways this means I can breathe a bit easier and get on with my other duties, assured I don’t have to hold my breath every time he walks past (Darth Vader entrance music playing in my head). Only problem is, I’m still managing his diary for the week.
This really should be OK. I worked out quite a complex itinerary for him last week, including his travel arrangements, restaurant bookings plus all the internal and external meetings he is supposed to go to. I had it organised down to pre-arranging the taxi that’s supposed to be ferrying him about this week. All right, when you create these super-complex plans, you know they might be subject to change, life happens after all. What you also expect is to be told about these changes. Maybe I expected too much, given the call I got at midnight last night.
“Where is my six o’clock with Trent?”
“What?” I said rubbing my eyes, totally disorientated from being woken so suddenly from such a deep cycle of sleep.
“My six o’clock with Trent, where did you book it for?”
Still confused, I recognised M.D. Underwood’s voice at the end of the phone. Why was he calling me when I was in bed? Terrified I’d horrifically over-slept and it was now the mid afternoon, I reached for my tablet and saw it was actually midnight.
“Well have you booked the meeting room or not?” He demanded, at the other end of the phone.
I frantically opened the calendar app just to check.
“Your meeting with Trent was supposed to be at 11 o’clock your time,” I said, trying to keep it together (and hoping the “your time” might give him a hint).
“Yeah,” said Underwood, “something came up, he had to change it to six.”
On hearing this I frantically began to scroll through my emails from today. Had I missed a request from him, or worse, deleted it by mistake? I couldn’t find any trace of one.
“Never mind,” he said, “there’s still time to make it, give him a call now and find where he wants to meet.”
He hung up and I began to scroll through my contacts to find the much sought after Trent. He was one of those really relaxed Americans who was very easy to deal with on the phone, so at least it was easy to re-arrange. The next day I sent M.D. Underwood a polite message reminding him that if he informs me of any changes that might be made to his schedule, during my working hours, it means a more efficient business trip for all of us. I haven’t had a reply yet, so I don’t know if it will make a difference or not, so here’s hoping.
In other news ... about the Curly Scarecrow and Whiz Girl incident, I’ve not heard anything yet. It looks like Whiz is being quite discreet about it; pictures of the two of them grinning like love struck idiots haven’t popped up all over Instagram at least. She did say she wanted to tell me all about it, so I’ll leave the ball in her court to text.