SLOPPING THE HOGS AT THE P.I.G. DINNER LONDON 2002

This next story is once again, from our time in Scotland. It describes another incident, where I was completely innocent of wrong, but, as usual, received all of the blame for it. The occasion was the annual PIG (pipeline industry guild) dinner. Our company was 100% involved in the pipeline industry so it was normal that we would participate in this event. I was a newly appointed VP of the company, therefore it was mandatory that I attend. Let me say, that this dinner was the pipeline “blowout” of the year. Anyone and everyone involved in the industry was present. This, not only included our competition, but also included every major oil producer in Europe. All of our customers were there. Each company present, tried to outdo all others, in impressing their customers.

As was our company tradition, we had a hospitality suite in the major central London hotel, where the venue was to be held. Our suite included a full staff serving every possible beverage that could be requested by our customers. The service was non-stop, the atmosphere loud, and the laughter raucous. Our party started about 4 hours before the dinner. This meant that, by dinner time, spirits were high and so were we. Dinner was a black tie affair, with tuxedo being the mandatory attire. Because our contingent was from Scotland, the Scottish lads wore formal jackets and black ties, with kilts. They looked impressive! Well at least for the first few hours! Seven o’clock came and we all gathered in the main ballroom for the dinner. I believe there were about 2000 attendees.

The room was elegant, tables were resplendent with silver, china and crystal. Doesn’t sound like a place where you would find pipeliners, does it? Especially pipeliners in tuxedos. Each table for 20 people held about 20 bottles of fine wine. Fine wine? This was the first thing that struck me as “strange”. After all we were “pipeliners”. I might have suspected that kegs of beer and whiskey would be more appropriate. To this point everyone was well behaved and no fights had yet broke out. We were keeping a close eye on our guys. The nature of our business was rough and tumble and our guys were some of the roughest. Throw in a few gallons of alcohol and the potential for a brawl was high.

In any event, we were all seated and the ceremonies started. The speeches were eloquent if not a little long. The food was elegant and there was lots of it. The wine was first class, which made the speeches easier to listen to. I only nodded off, two or three times. The dinner passed without incident. Each of us tried to bond with the client rep seated beside us. We were really on our best behaviour and let’s say “kissing butt, heavily”. Geezus!

After the tables were cleared a program was put on. Apparently there was a very famous and funny comedian to entertain us. However, I cannot verify that, because the few hundreds of bottles of wine that were consumed, had created a loud buzz or murmur in the room. I could see his lips moving and could hear those, at the front, laughing but did not hear a word that was said. Next came a very famous politician, who was also funny, although not trying too be. I couldn’t hear him either, however I did not view that as a negative!

The main event of the banquet came next. It was a live auction to see what dizzying heights of money could be raised for charity. This dinner was famous for the staggering amounts of money offered for the auction items. It was somewhat interesting, with a few hundred pounds sterling being offered for dinner with somebody, even moderately, famous. Or maybe a 1000 pounds for a flight to Amsterdam for lunch and another 1000 back to London for dinner. I was half listening, half snoozing and the time was passing very, very slowly. I could have been in church, it was so boring.

Suddenly, one of our guys, jumps up and in a loud Scottish voice yells. “Our company will pay 3500 quid (pound sterling) for the seeing eye dog up there. This was greeted by loud cheers around the room. “Geezus”, I think, “did he really say that?” I quickly look the other way and pretend that I didn’t hear him. Luckily, I was not the senior member of our company in attendance, so I did not have to deal with this. Our guy was a wee bit tipsy, bordering on “shit-faced.” However, he was not yet finished! Further, he adds, “and we will return the dog to the auction so it can be sold again”. This is greeted by wild cheering. I am now shrunk into my chair and doing my best to blend into the table cloth. 3500 quid, at the time was about $7500.

One thing, that this bid accomplished, was that it brought complete silence to our table. This did not disturb our guy. He was taking bows, returning compliments and was very pleased with himself. He loved the attention, he was the hit of the evening. I’m thinking, “just wait until he sobers up tomorrow and finds a dog in his room licking his face”. A couple of our guys sat very close to him the remainder of the evening to ensure that he didn’t get another fit of generosity with company money. The evening ended with over 100,000 pounds sterling collected from the guild members. It was a huge success. Now for some more partying.

Each of us had been assigned a senior representative of our “biggest customer’s” organization. And our job was to get close to them, market our butts off, get them back to our hospitality suite and ply them with alcohol and more food. Our suite was famous, or maybe infamous, for after hours, “Bacon Butties”. These consisted of hot buns, layered with melted butter, crammed full of thick slabs of bacon. They were a real popular late night, post pub snack. So after the ceremonies, everyone went back to the suite and drank more, and gobbled down a half dozen or so bacon butties. As if we needed any more food or drink by this time. Over the next couple of hours, anyone with any brains cells still alive, wandered off to their beds or to other hospitality suites.

This did not mean we were abandoned. There still remained about 20 hardcore partiers. These, a mixture of customers, industry people, our marketing guys and a couple VP’s. It was a lively time and would have been great fun if it had ended there. But no! About 2:00 am our senior VP gets the idea that we all needed to go out for a “nightcap” at one of the local clubs. A brilliant idea, you might think. Somewhere my mind was telling me to go to bed, but my feet were following the group of partiers. I make no excuse, I did not resist very hard. Soon we were jammed into a fleet of cars, headed for “who knows where”?

Our senior guys knew London well and we quickly arrived at a very fancy looking club. It was a spectacle of lights and flashing signs. Everyone falls out of the cars and we stumble, fall, crawl and slide into this club. It was loud and raucous. I remember thinking, this was not such an original idea; as I spot some of our competitors and their guests, already there. The music was earsplitting, the strobe lights blinding, and the place was jammed full. I would like to say I remember more about this club, however that would be untrue. Also I could add that, I was still in control, but that would also be untrue. I was just a part of an “out of control” swarm.

Again, our senior guy has another of his brilliant ideas. He tells the waiter, “A ROUND OF DOM, for everyone at the table. The bottles started arriving, by the tray full. That first round must have comprised, 10 bottles of their “best”. Geezus. At this point it could have been a round of beer, that’s how much this fine drink meant to anyone at our table. The point of sipping Dom and munching bonbons was well past. I was now tired, just wanted my bed and sleep. I had, had enough of clients, their arrogance, and their, less than funny jokes. At long last everyone had consumed enough and are ready return to the hotel for a well needed sleep.

I understand that this has been a long post, but I am now closing in on the “point” of this story. It was now time to leave, and the leader of our group now asks for the bill. It arrives, he peers at it, sniffs and with a flourish extends it to me. He gets close and whispers, “Jimbo, why don’t you get this one. Your entertainment budget has room for this. And thus far you haven’t spent a thing. Don’t worry, I’ll sign your expense report”. This was another time in my life, when a drop of cold sweat creeped between my shoulder blades. I looked at the bill and could not really comprehend the numbers. It was lots! It made the seeing eye dog look like a good buy. I pull out my AmEx and hear it groan as it passed thru the machine.

And so, ended my trip to the annual P.I.G. dinner. I must say that I learned much about pipeline companies. My learning consisted of; the amount they could party, the levels to which they could spend in the name of marketing, and how much I disliked “client’s” representatives. However it was done and life went back to normal for about a month. The P.I.G. dinner was long forgotten and had become a receding memory, only.

Then one day, upon arriving home from work, I am confronted by Deysi at the door, hands on her hips and feet firmly planted in my path. I make my usual cheerful greeting, but know something is wrong. And then I see it, she is holding, and shaking the AmEx bill in my face. “What’s this?” “What’s this,” she demands. I reach out and innocently grab the bill. There staring me in the face is a charge for $8500 Cdn from a place called “String……..”. “Well”, I explain, “remember the P.I.G. dinner I had to attend last month?” “This is the bill for the place we took our client’s, too, for late night snacks and a nightcap”. “So what kind of place was this,” she enquires, still tapping her foot on the floor?

I explain, that I could not really remember the name, but it was some “restaurant” type place where we went for a kind of “early breakfast”. “HAHaha”, she snorts, but I don’t get the idea that she is being funny. “Yeah right”, $8500 for breakfast!” “Who is going to pay this?” “YOU, YOU?” she says, while sticking her finger in my ribs. Now I have her! “JFTK, told me to pay this, and not to worry he is the one signing my expense report”. “Well, he better,” she says, “or I’ll be going down there to find out why”. She is not convinced, and knows that something smells of BS, around this story,

As was promised, my guy pays my expenses, without too many snide comments about how too manage spending, when, with a customer. The only thing I learned was, to always have an underling present to pass off any outrageous bills to. Life goes on and eventually this incident fades from my memory. Until one day Deysi and I are in London, for a meeting, and with some free time, decide to go on a bus tour.

We are right in the heart of London, so the double-decker bus tour is a must. We climb up to the top and are enjoying the sights of London. Our bus even had its own tour guide, standing up front and explaining the sights. He has a microphone that can be heard all over central London. Additionally, he was a bit annoying, but hell, when in London do what the rest of the tourists do. I settle in for a short nap, while Deysi is oooohhhing and aaaahhhing over the sights. Her camera is going off and sounds like a machine gun. Suddenly he brings me wide awake and to full attention.

“Now ladies and gentlemen, I want to show you the most expensive nightclub in London”. He continues, ” it is named String……” Now he has my full attention, I am glaring at him and making the throat cutting sign to get him to stop. This only emboldens him. He continues, “this is where Prince C….. and his buddies go for a night out when they want to be wild and crazy.” “It is said, whatever happens here, stays here!” Now he has Deysi’s full attention. She gives me her scariest look and says. “This is it! This is the name on my Amex bill from your so called, breakfast!” “You are a pig!” I try to protest, weakly, but understand that there is no getting out of this one.

The rest of the day I spend in silence, looking at her back, and feeling a chill. I was well and truly caught. If it would have done any good, at all, I would have done a little whining, pleading and some begging. However, protesting my innocence would have been futile. I was already found guilty and sentenced. I knew her look and knew better than to get her stirred up any further. The big mouth tour guide had stirred her enough. So there we go, me and Deysi’s back, on a tour of London.