Hot on the heels of our company function, we recently had our company team-building weekend. Clearly someone in HR has a new “How To Motivate The Disgruntled Herd” manual.
Of course, we never get to do cool stuff like paintball, extreme ironing or bog-diving. No, it’s always that tired old favourite: action cricket. I have nothing against action cricket as such, as long as the “action” does not involve me directly. I’ve been roped into taking part in numerous bouts in the past and the results have been uniformly demoralising for all involved. You see, I have the reflexes of a severely hungover sloth and I throw like a girl (who happens to be particularly unskilled at throwing). On a bad day, I’m even worse. Brian Lara I most definitely ain’t.
Although I have long since accepted the sorry fact of my less-than-spectacular sporting prowess, others haven’t. I have also come to the conclusion that honesty in this regard is often not the best policy:
“So whose team are you in?”
“I’m not playing”
“Injured knee. Old war wound”
“I have no ball-sense whatsoever. I think I’d have trouble finding my own testicles if they weren’t attached”
[Glazed eyes. Crickets chirping]
There’s no “I” in “team” and really, I’m okay with that.