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By Root 1213 0

days or beach Olympics I have a problem with. Those, in theory, could be fun. It’s those completely manufactured activities, those - allegedly - based on some psychological theory I object to. I’ve always suspected that there is some secret sinister think tank residing somewhere in the cosmos that plots this sort of thing. I can hear them now: ‘Hey guys, let’s think up some random and pointless exercises, add in some meaningless psychobabble, and sell them to the corporate world dressed up as team building exercises. It’ll be a hoot!’ I’d been on enough of these exercises in futility with Amanda to know that they never produce any lasting change. We could team-build until the cows came home on the weekend but sure enough the following Monday she’d be back to her usual backstabbing, self-serving ways.

So it was with a heavy heart that I read my emails one Tuesday morning and was reminded that I was required to attend a team building weekend with the whole Erecta sales and marketing team in four weeks’ time. The only sweetener was that it was being held at a swanky and popular resort a couple of hours up the coast. I’d always wanted to stay there and now I’d have the opportunity to do so at the company’s expense. I briefly wondered whether anyone would notice if I sneaked off to the day spa instead of attending the team bonding crap, but figured they probably would. Anyway, following this email was one from Alex, advising me that I would be required to present a half-hour overview of our marketing strategy for Erecta on the Sunday morning of this retreat. Apparently we were all going to be required to do some real work while we were away together - a good thing in my view.

As luck would have it, Tony was going to be in Hong Kong that particular Saturday, so I had to arrange for Isabel to stay with Pamela and Douglas. Mum was unavailable as she was planning to be away in Adelaide, awaiting the birth of David and Amrita’s third child. Pamela was none too pleased about this as she had a ‘lunch with the girls’ organised for Sunday. However, as Tony was due to arrive back early Sunday morning I’d arranged for him to pick up Isabel immediately so Pamela’s social life would not be compromised.

I dropped Isabel off early that Saturday morning and headed up the coast, with the music turned up loud and a spring in my accelerator pedal. It was one of those glorious balmy days in early June that are laughably called winter. I’d discovered by this time the odious team building exercises were only going to constitute a small and early part of the proceedings. Once these were over and done with, the rest of the weekend looked like it was going to be okay, with a bit of free time, dinner in the award winning restaurant and, for me at least, the rare privilege of a single room. In an optimistic moment I’d even thrown my bikini in my bag, but was not yet sure I’d prove uninhibited enough to strip down in front of my work colleagues; I had by this time lost most of my baby weight, but was left with some determined bulges around my tummy, hips and thighs that I feared nothing short of a plastic surgeon’s skill would dislodge. Isabel had been home sick most of the week, so we’d had a bit too much time together and I was keen for some mature (well, mature-ish) adult company. I’d optimistically provided Pamela with some instructions on Isabel’s weekend routine, but with a clear expectation that most of my advice would be ignored.

It was a quick run up the coast and I arrived in good time for lunch. It was too early to get into my room so, after checking-in, I had to be content with a brief exploration of the resort. I surveyed the day spa wistfully - another time perhaps. The marketing team and sales reps started filtering in slowly and after the standard conference lunch of gourmet sandwiches, juice and coffee we headed to an outdoor terrace to bond.

First we were broken up into four small groups. Three team building exercises had been scheduled, each one successively more ludicrous than the last. The first involved us all being blind-folded