As I recline this evening on the chaise longue at Cheshire Towers-indulging my inner sybarite-to watch a celebration of Her Majesty, I have been given pause to ponder the behaviour of my fellow humans. As HM has shown throughout her reign, it is advocated to do the best that one can and what one believes to be the right thing. Having been incapacitated during the past week (fear not dear fan club members, The Chesh lives to fight another day), I have had time for reflection on the vagaries of the human condition. Due to my enforced withdrawal from sports, I was able to watch the fallout from the budget and the resignation of IDS. Principled or precious? As always with the departure of any public figure, there was an immediate stampede of those wanting to jump on the bashing bus. What made me chuckle was the amount pf people who somewhat sanctimoniously offered how they could not believe that he could sit at Cabinet for four years when he clearly was not wholly supportive of the PM and the Chancellor. Without digressing into a discussion of democratic freedom of expression and the intelligent exchange of educated opinion (that is normally reserved for ‘Spoons on a Thursday night), I do have to point out one small thing that I learnt many years ago when sitting with the big boys at the corporate table; having gained one’s place at the trough that is accompanied by the procuration of the big bucks, big car, secretary with the big…WPM count, one soon learns to weigh up whether keeping those perks is more beneficial than making a stand over one of your principles. Hypocritical? Possibly. Sensible (particularly when you have a wife who has to have the latest Louis Vuitton)? Most definitely. As has often been opined, money does not buy you happiness. Very true, but it is preferable to be miserable in the back of a Mercedes than on a push bike.
Even allowing for the vast quantities of drugs that have passed through my system-all legal I may add- you may well be wondering what my musings have to do with estate agency? As with any group dynamic, be it at a COBRA meeting (if ever an acronym belied the banality of its meaning-COBRA is far sexier than Cabinet Office Briefing Room A), or a regional managers’ meeting at head office, to survive one does have to go along with the collective view, or for those ballsy enough,one makes the conscious decision to leave. I have no problem with employees who do their master’s bidding. At some point all us independent estate agents have taken the corporate shilling with all its associated lagniappes (look it up). For most of us, independence was thrust upon us-forget the PR spin-because for any number of reasons we were, if not unemployable, at least less employable than some eager young buck willing to play the corporate game.
Closer to home in the metropolis of Cwmbran, I have received a panacea to my ills; no, not Tatiana in the nurse’s outfit, but evidence that imitation is indeed the most sincere form of flattery. Thank you, you know who you are. For those of you who think that you may know, answers on a postcard please.