Team Meetings

Oh god.... you know your new manager has taken one too many behavioural therapy courses when she starts her first official team meeting asking us to pair up with the person to our left and "chit-chat" and "get to know each other"... with the primary objective of making a total ass of yourself in front of a group of people having a total stranger say embarassing things about you. Today was no exception. I got paired with this sour old puss from the locals who's been working here since 1873. It was hard to keep track of all the dates that she changed post... as she was explaining, all I kept thinking to myself was "WHY THE HELL ARE YOU WORKING FOR US?! GO GET A REAL LIFE!"
The old cow then asked me point blank if I considered Glasgow to be a good move. I should have thought faster but this one took me by surprise so I answered truthfully: NO. Montreal: exciting, multi-cultural, thriving city of over four million people. Glasgow: barely 400,000 punters who can barely speak one language, let alone a foreign language whose idea of a good time is to get ripped on Buckfast and beat up the neighbourhood elderly Sikh couple.
So guess what she says to the group:
"Belinda has been living in Glasgow but her heart is still in Montreal." I thought I was going to die. She made it sound like I was going to leave my husband, up sticks and fuck off back to Canada.
"Noooo... I wouldn't say that exactly, although it *is* my home, you know."

Curiously enough, everyone knew which side their bread was buttered on and wittered on about how lovely/fantastic/wonderful Glasgow/Greenock/Gourock/Wemyss Bay/Largs/Scotland is and how they would never return to their village/hamlet/cabin-in-the-forest in France. Well, I suppose if you had to get up every morning at 3:30 to milk the goats, then I presume getting up a few hours later to spend a day farting around the office, sending off-colour jokes and taking extra long fag and coffee breaks constitutes Paradise.