Teamwork
The road to Torino is slowly unfolding before us. It was never paved and there is no vacancy all along it, but at least the fog is . . . check that, was . . . letting up.
As many as 13 people - a good omen already - are making the trip from AHA's headquarters in Siena to fun's headquarters in Toriono.
After a brief period of political uncertainty, I was able to run on the platform of reckless enthusiasm to be named President of the Siena Olympic Committee. What does this mean? It means I find the hotel. For 13 people. During the weekend of the Opening Ceremonies. With 20-something days to go.
It has become apparent that I was elected to take the fall.
So I weilded my power and split up the people into three teams - Gold, Silver and Bronze. Team Bronze was comprised of the folks that had their precious, oh so precious and deserving of envy tickets to events. They wanted a hotel. I sent them on their way, pointing them in the direction of the computer. Team Silver was the four folks most likely to say "I don't want to pay that much" when given a resonable offer. The requirement to join Team Gold was a correct answer to the question "Would you wash an old man in order to go to the Twentieth Olympic Winter Games in Torino, Italy?" Each team has a captain in charge of getting what they need. Team Silver going through the same steps as Gold, but they will bail sooner.
I have looked at every hotel in the city. I have checked the Olympic website, as well as those of several National Olympic Committees. I have clicked, written, and faxed information for days. I have been hung up on and laughed at.
Just as I started to write this, the phone that never rings and never works right . . . rings. Here's how it goes: after an exchange of "prontos," a string of a Italian and a soothing "parla inglese," the woman informs me that the hotel we want is not available and that I would have to go through the extensive website search and re-fax the application form.
Even worse? The 5-person Team Bronze claims to have a hotel.
The torch is dim. But not out.
Citius, Altius, Fortius.
As many as 13 people - a good omen already - are making the trip from AHA's headquarters in Siena to fun's headquarters in Toriono.
After a brief period of political uncertainty, I was able to run on the platform of reckless enthusiasm to be named President of the Siena Olympic Committee. What does this mean? It means I find the hotel. For 13 people. During the weekend of the Opening Ceremonies. With 20-something days to go.
It has become apparent that I was elected to take the fall.
So I weilded my power and split up the people into three teams - Gold, Silver and Bronze. Team Bronze was comprised of the folks that had their precious, oh so precious and deserving of envy tickets to events. They wanted a hotel. I sent them on their way, pointing them in the direction of the computer. Team Silver was the four folks most likely to say "I don't want to pay that much" when given a resonable offer. The requirement to join Team Gold was a correct answer to the question "Would you wash an old man in order to go to the Twentieth Olympic Winter Games in Torino, Italy?" Each team has a captain in charge of getting what they need. Team Silver going through the same steps as Gold, but they will bail sooner.
I have looked at every hotel in the city. I have checked the Olympic website, as well as those of several National Olympic Committees. I have clicked, written, and faxed information for days. I have been hung up on and laughed at.
Just as I started to write this, the phone that never rings and never works right . . . rings. Here's how it goes: after an exchange of "prontos," a string of a Italian and a soothing "parla inglese," the woman informs me that the hotel we want is not available and that I would have to go through the extensive website search and re-fax the application form.
Even worse? The 5-person Team Bronze claims to have a hotel.
The torch is dim. But not out.
Citius, Altius, Fortius.
posted by Jon at 6:22 PM
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