Barefoot in the heart: part 8, the facilitator

cue the slow hand claps write my name top of the page again full caps underline it another day another anonymous assemblage cursing their employment who cant stand the sight of each other and would rather be sur la plage than locked in a basement built to withstand nuclear radiation facing the dark arts of facilitation but a subtle deployment of my statutory equipage of post-its flipcharts blutac and odourless drywipes will have the odious asswipes in a rapturous embrace between ice and first comfort breaks remember to silence that phone or if I hear a poxy one direction ring tone I’m going to oxy acetylene it leave your hierarchy at the door be in no doubt this is a monarchy and with coloured card comes clout so what do you want out of today what does success look like confess something personal to the group about yourself that doesn’t make us think you’re either hewn from a hunk of manilla or a secret serial killer thats great you were an extra in Michael Jackson’s Thriller oh sea swallow me okay before your collective attentive libido droops lets break into smaller groups and see if you can think of something anything and write so it doesn’t look like you’ve downed a demijohn of gin so more than just a flybot can read it and if its really completely shit we’ll put it in the parking lot oh go on check your pointless e-mail I’m off for a smoke with the only frustrated bloke here who isn’t dead inside and make sure no-one knows I buried my head in my hands and cried in animated despair 321 back in the room you present I’ll resent and pretend I knew what you meant but in my heart I am barefoot I know nothing but how to get there but its nowhere if doesn’t mean anything I talk in the riddles of deliverables all my output folded neatly for recycling my reality an empty impartiality an ever open ended question because I have no opinion in my daily sanitised dominion you gift your doubt your suspicion your knowing wantaway smirk and I am always left with the only marker in the room that doesn’t work

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