Last Friday we had the Thames Water Executive Christmas meal.
It is always a great event but this year it had a special angle; it was also my
leaving do. I went prepared for an emotional rollercoaster. I am not good at
goodbyes. I was determined not to cry.
The meal was lovely and after the main course Martin Baggs,
the CEO, stood up to give a speech. He started with the traditional giving of
gifts to the husbands and wives of the Exec. This always goes down well. Mainly
because we each give Janet Burr, our HR Director, £50 and she buys the presents,
putting substantially more thought into it than any of us do for our main
Christmas presents to our loved ones (I know just how terrible thing that is
to admit….but it’s true!)
Having sorted the partners he turned to me. This is it I
thought. Brace yourself Piers. This is where it is going to get emotional.
He produced a big red book, with ‘A Book of Your Life’
written across the front. Inside was a panoply of photos, press cuttings, and
anecdotes from my former colleagues (there was even a poem!) detailing some of
the wonderful moments from my 5 years at Thames. As Martin turned the pages,
reading sections and telling amusing (and mostly embarrassing) stories I felt a
warm glow. My departure was going to be based on funny stories, not sad
goodbyes. I was going to be ok.
Having completed the review of The Book, I got ready to give
my response. Before I did it became apparent that there were even more gifts for
me. This time they were personal. Each Exec member had taken the time to buy a
gift that celebrated a particular event:
· There was a
plastic arm to recall when I vigorously shook the prosthetic arm of a one-armed
guest to our offices (that memory still makes me shrink with horror).
· Or the Snowman
Onesie to recall Christmas 2013 when I tricked my Exec colleagues into
performing a Pantomime at the Quarterly Business Review (they even sang and
danced). The full video can be found here: http://sdrv.ms/1cxwBQI. Its 22 minutes long
but it will make you laugh, cry and cringe all at once I promise.
· Or the fire
extinguisher, to recall when my shirt went up in flames (literally) after I
leant too close to a candle while at an overnight event. We were chatting away
when suddenly flames were flicking up my back. I briefly became the Human Torch
(one of the heroes from the Fantastic Four). Fortunately only my pride was
damaged and it heals pretty quickly.
· One of my
gifts even included three pairs of pants. One with ‘I’m kind of a big deal’
sprawled across the groin and two (TWO mind!) with the smiling image of Martin
Baggs sprawled across the bottom. I am not going to share the anecdote behind
these gifts. Sometimes what happens in an Exec Board stays in the Exec
Board.
As we came to the end of the gifts I felt an overwhelming
sense of love and warmth. I could not believe the efforts my friends had gone
to. I was honoured. I prepared myself for my response.
It was then that Martin stated that there was just one
more gift. That this last one was the serious gift. Everything else had
just been the warm up. This was the climax.
As he was talking Bob Collington was carefully unwrapping
something from a bag across the table. As he lifted it from the bag I realised
precisely what it was and my heart leapt into my mouth. I simply could not
believe it. Could I really be about to receive something as special as this? I
am so not worthy!
There in front of me was a genuine piece of water industry
history: I was being given a 6 inch segment of elm-wood water main, dating back
to the 1700s (see attached photo). These are the sort of things that you put
into museums, not give to idiots like me. It had been excavated from Charlton
Street in north west London, near Kings Cross. A quick internet search reveals
that in the late 1700s this is where Mary Shelly (author of Frankenstein) was
born, its where Charles Dickens lived, its where escapees from the French
Revolution hung out! This water main is a part of London’s rich history. How
could I possibly deserve such a gift?
The simple answer is I don’t. But through the generosity of
my Thames colleagues I am fortunate enough to be the guardian of this artefact.
I will look after it dutifully.
As you can imagine, with this climax there was no hope of me
holding it together. I abandoned my planned amusing and light-hearted thank-you,
and instead garbled something tearful and stunned. I am not often speechless -
after 5 years my colleagues have finally found a way to shut me up.
My time at Thames Water has been magnificent. I feel deeply
honoured to have been part of it. I will miss Thames. I will miss the
activities. I will miss serving London.
But most of all I will miss the people.
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