Aslom Does The Apprentice/Dragon's Den

I recently entered a competition through Queen Mary entitled, XING 2009. It was a competition for business students, but I thought it looked quite fun. Despite having no real 'business acumin', whatever on earth that means, I submitted an application. The next thing I know, I was selected to represent Queen Mary at the competition, held in Goldsmith's University. Donning a suit, I faced entered through its doors.

Strangely, I found that I was actually at an incredible advantage to the other members on my team. Their knowledge of business was 'bookish', and I had the advantage of having had real experience of the business world, as well as the very real world of teaching. I was bringing ideas to the table which they said had not at all entered their minds. The competition was based very much like an Apprentice task: we were asked to brand a drink, and present it to a panel of judges for their consideration. Our presentation would need to include a 3 year plan, a five eyar plan, a strategy on funding, what our aims and goals were, how we wished to advertise ourselves, as well as our target market. All very business-like, but I did not let that deter me. Jumping in head first, I began startegising with my team. We came up with the brand name, 'Frushee', an organic juice drink, which was a luxury item, aimed at the health-conscious city workers who could afford it. I decided not to be Project Manager-I did not want to dominate, and gave the task to one of the girls in our group. I saw though, that as the day passed, she was losing control of the task more and more, and even gave up at one point and said the pressure was too much. I did not want to lose, especially after everyone had worked so hard, and therefore stepped in. Taking control, I made sure we finished on time, and that I was the one presenting our ideas. This decision was made not because I believed I was the most business-minded. On the contrary, all the members on my team had more business knowledge than I could ever hope to attain. They could speak about budgets and margins while I look around, quite lost. I, however, had the bliss of ignorance of all this jargon. I knew our ideas, aims, goals and, most importantly, our business plan like the back of my hand by the end time of the presentation. As a teacher, I had also been trained how to project my voice, how to present ideas in a clear, concise, and coherent way which engages my audience (usually teenagers) and I would therefore have no problem in presenting a business plan to a group of mature adults.

Using all my presentational skills, my knowledge of the Apprentice and, most importantly, genuine flair, I presented our plan. I was, as is evident from the pictures, careful to look thoughtful and engaged when they spoke, while being enthusiastic and seeming sure of what I was taking about when I spoke to them. We got through the First Stage of Eliminations, and got through to the Semin-Finals. Presenting again, I presented our modified plan, and took us through to the final. In the end, we did not win, we came Third Place in a competition that took in about 20 teams across many London universities. We got a £50 cash prize. Not bad for an ignorant English teacher with no knowledge of business! I loved the sense of teamwork, as well as the business style of the competition. I was asked for my number and email by some of the judges at the end of the competition, who were stunned I had not completed a degree in business, and told me I was, in teaching, in the wrong trade!

Knowledge of business, I have not, but I do believe I have some business acumin. Iasked, jokingly, if I should go on the Apprentice. One of the judges, smiling, said. 'I'd watch you, it would be interesting to see how you fare.' Alan Sugar, here I come.

Aslom In The White House

The other day, whilst researching for my dissertation on walking, I decided some 'fieldwork' was necessary and, as it was swelteringly hot, I headed for Regents Park. Unfortunately for me, so did everyone else, which meant it was packed with sunbathers and the like, with no transquility being bestowed by the park upon the walker. I walked the outskirts until I had completed nearly the whole park, and felt I had taken a long enough walk. It was at this point that I realised I had forgotten my wallet...and I was thirsty. I could not just walk up to somebody and ask for a drink, and yet I was incredibly thirsty.

I heard a lot of loud music coming from outside the park itself. I therefore climbed out, and found myself in front of one of the many huge Regent's Park mansions, one of which is owned by Mick Jagger, I believe. One of these walk holding a private garden party. I needed a drink. I untucked my shirt, rolled up the sleeves, put on my shades, and headed in. I waved hello to a few of the refined, posh women who were in the hallway, and apologised to them for being late. Late? I know, I wasn't even invited, but I couldn't blow my cover. They were a bit tipsy and, giving me the once over, said I was right on time, and should head out into the garden. I did, and it was the most magnificent garden I had ever seen. The lawn was beautifully maintained, there was a huge barbecue, a set of swings. I turned around, and saw the huge white mansion I had walked into. It was like being in the White House! I ,mingled, got my drink, had some salad, and five minutes had passed without anyone noticing that actually, nobody was acquainted with me! I decided I should leave before someone did, and had me arrested! I said my farwells, and walked out, right out the front door!

THAT was a stunt I aim never to pull again. I'm only young once though, and know that I will never be on any sort of salary to be able to affor such a place, so I needed to see what it was like. Why did nobody throw me out? Well, it seems that there are certain rules of sociability which are unwritten and, therefore, can be worked within by individuals. I had the apparel, the behaviour, the sophisticated talk of the other posh party-goers, and they therefore mentally accepted that either I was one of them, or was crazy enough to walk into a psoh party uninvited. Though the latter was true (minus the thing about being crazy, or not!), they believed the former was the case, due to its being more probable.

Battle of the Women in Waterstone’s

I was in Waterstone’s the other day on Goodge Street buying a book (boring! I know) and this huge African woman who was obviously returning GCSE books started yelling at the short little woman at the counter, really having a go at her: 'I WANT a refund! Now!!' This woman didn't have the receipt right so she was only allowed to exchange the goods, which the Waterstone’s girl kindly told her. 'I don't CARE, I have RIGHTS, I want the refund, or, if I DO return, I do NOT want to have to explain myself to another member of staff, this little girl CANNOT by any means go to lunch!' By now the shop had silenced. I had had enough: I could not stand by and watch this unfold in front of me like everyone else was. I intervened. This poor little Waterstone’s woman had done absolutely nothing wrong-it was the shop’s policy to only exchange goods which were not accompanied with a receipt, and this huge, overbearing woman was not at all budging. I stepped in, despite behind two people behind in the cashier que: ‘excuse me, but you are being unfair. You need to calm things down a little bit, and look at the situation rationally.’ I said this with firmness, but without any animosity-we get trained as teachers to alleviate and diffuse situations where possible. She turned on me: ‘and WHO are YOU to tell me that young man?! WHO are YOU?’ I simply replied, ‘I am jus another person in the que. You are yelling at this woman who has been nothing but nice to you. She’s been decent enough not to yell back, and you are taking advantage of that. She has offered you an exchange, so if you go off, find some books of the same value of those books, and then return, that will be great.’ By now the Waterstone’s girl smiled; she felt supported in a store in which he staff had all seemed to disappear. The African woman was now in full throttle: ‘is that what YOU think? WHO are YOU to tell me to leave the que, and find new books? You’re just a student, with trainers!’ It was true: against my better judgment, I had worn trainers that day with denim jeans, when usually I would wear shoes, trousers, and a formal shirt. I clearly looked like a student, but I set her straight: ‘actually, I’m an English teacher, and not only do I teach all those books in your pile there, but I know that as kids are soon to sit their GCSEs, they are useless. I wholly understand your reason for returning them, but you need to make a decision on which books you want to exchange them for.’ I had tried to empathise with her. She retorted by yelling, ‘English teacher? I’m…a lecturer!’ She was clearly lying; she’d made that up on the spot. I was slightly annoyed now: ‘lecturer? I imagine you completed your doctoral research in rudeness and vulgarity? Leave the que so we can get on with our shopping. You are clearly a rude woman who wastes people’s time.’ She was fuming now. At this point the store manager emerged, and offered a African woman with a piece of paper which would allow her to find some books to exchange and return without having to explain herself, reiterating that no refund would be given without a receipt. She took it and stormed off. The African woman was fuming, while the Waterstone’s girl was smiling, happy she could go off to lunch, and the situation had been reversed from the way it had been at the start of the woman’s rant. I’d achieved my objective. Not bad for a few minutes in a Waterstone’s que. The girl therefore thanked me, ‘no problem, have a nice day.’ I went off home with my new books, which I am now reading.

Maybe Its Because I'm a Londoner...

I finished work today and decided that the best course of action I should take, to prepare myself for my MA Dissertation on walking the street is, well, to walk home (central London's Edgware Road), from Whitechapel, in East London. Crazy? I didn't think so, after all, its only 45 minutes drive.

It started pleasantly enough: 10 minutes of walking took me from the slummish area of East London where my College is, to the busy heart of Liverpool street. Men in suits, women in black shits and white shirts, all looking immaculate. What was most peculiar was that I was walking home at 5.30pm- a time which, I have seen today, is when the capital decides to 'down a few pints'. Everywhere I looked, the men and women were out in the chairs located outside the pubs, drinking, smiling, and relaxing. In Liverpool street especially, there are whole arcades dedicated to inviting drinkers to gather, and gather they certainly do. I decided to walk through one such arcade, and came out feeling as if I had knocked back a few pints myself! Such is the atmosphere. I mention this at the length I have because I had always 'connoted' (a new word I had taught my students today) Liverpool street and the City with the high end of society. 'THIS is civility', I would tell my friends as we drove past Liverpool street. I believed everything else was just the normal, the vulgar. I have seen from my walk today, however, that these 'high end' civilains are as alcohol crazed as any other people, if not more. They can afford to drink to the excessive levels they do. I have of late been trying to locate the source of the current rise in teenage binge drinking and alcoholism, and I think I have found it. I am not at all saying that the wonderful men and women in suits in Liverpool street are to blame-well, at least not entirely. The blame is on us (well, 'us' in the sense of the entire British society-I myself do not drink), the British public of adults. As we sink to new levels of depravity and excess, we can not expect much from our younger generations who look up to us. If we want to sink to such levels, we can only expeecrt as much from our younger teenagers. We need to be more responsible in terms of the role models we portray on a societal level. It is easy to act as if we are youngsters, perhaps in a vain hope not to accept that we are getting old, and that we need to set an example. If we did so, I believe we would see an improvement in the younger generation. Until we do so, we can not expect anything more from the youngers aspect of society. If we are worried about the levels of depravity and excess they are falling into on a general level, we need only to look in a mirror. We have come out the way we have due to our parentage, whose 'old fashioned' techniques, rules, and requirements which remind us of the 60s and 70s made us who we are today. What sorts of rules do we support, follow, and uphold?

I feel I have spoken enough. This was just something which became apparent to me today. I also ended up walking for 3 hours, realising that one of the better things about London (aside from the above) is that its people are so diverse. I noted the change in behaviour, clothing, even the mannerisims of people as I walked from Whitechapel, Aldgate, Liverpool street, Old Street, Islington, KIng's Cross, Marylebone, and Edgware Road.

When I have rested a while, I hope to relate my findings on the peoples from the above locations, as well as the usefulness of John Gay's poem Trivia: Or, The Art of Walking The Street-I followed its rules today, but here must I retire to my bed.