The Off-site (terrible name for a first novel. heavy metal band?)

Last week: the airport. This week: my kitchen. Who says office life can’t be dynamic?

Today, I experienced (and, one might say if bold, engineered) my first off-site. When asked to serve as Head Scout for the location, I did some googling and my eyes enlarged at Google’s first hit:

Geneva? Seriously?

A few more clicks showed that even Oxford was too expensive for our tastes, despite lacking in both Alps and good cheese, so I did what any lazy person would: volunteered my humble abode for our three-person crew.

Back from the gym at 8.30, I stepped into our flat with my co-workers’ eyes. Boots, jackets, computers, cornflakes, cake crumbs, dead orchids, the ubiquitous laundry rack lined with bedraggled socks…(whaaaat?! Busy weekend!). I’ll shield you from “the before”, but here’s how 9am found us:
Ahh. Take a seat. Relax. Live a little. 9-5s with an off-site are now on my nice list.

Best/worst off-site experiences? Imagine the possibilities.

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