I’m going to talk to you about women in business. Traditionally I’ve been against it. I know there are a few chicks around who’ve scaled the highest peaks of business, but they’re the exception not the rule. No, you’ve really got to be on top of your game to compete with the brilliant minds in the RC boardroom, where every meeting is a miniature war. And if you’re going to sod off for months on end to have babies, frankly you’re not going to cut the mustard.
There are a few top, top business birds. I met that Michelle Mone – need I say more? Great speaker and she talks about norks. Quality. Karren Brady’s also brilliant – you don’t get to work for a genius like David Sullivan without having something about you. Maggie was the best PM this country ever had, even if she had hairy legs, according to a mate who knows about these things.
These women have all made sacrifices, like me, which you have to do to reach the top. But saying that, you’ve got to offer chances to develop, because women can work wonders for you if put in the right positions (no not like that)
My old pal Dave Atherton – whatever happened to him by the way? Must look him up – once told me about two Dorises that worked for him at Dabs.com. They got right into the swing of things, if you will, and were so athletic in their endeavours they were christened “the exercise bikes”. Look it up. The politically correct brigade might not like it, but it’s just a bit of harmless banter that builds team spirit.
Another good mate, Lawrence Jones – best blogger around by the way – reckons much of his success at UKFast is down to employing large numbers of ladies. He reckons that in general they’re more practical and are better at decision-making. They also look much better in hotpants at all those techie trade shows, but that’s just a happy coincidence.
I’m coming round to this way of thinking and will be putting “girl power” at the forefront of my new venture RC Pop-ups. You know those temporary shops that pop up in shopping centres at certain times of year? Well when the world comes to realise in January that they’re all skint, my pop-up cash for gold stores will be popping up in all the pauper towns from Stoke to Carlisle.
When some loser in a shell-suit gets knocked back from a cashpoint and the brats are screaming for a Happy Meal, Roger’s Angels will be there to clean up, with a sympathetic smile. Happy days.