My employer today removed 350 “managers” from their desks and made them congregate in a theatre in an “East of England” town centre so that they could (a) “network”, (b) listen to a succession of senior managers drone on in front of bad PowerPoint presentations, and (c) receive the wisdom of a guest speaker.

(Talking of senior managers, the business’s two most senior executives were unable to make it, natch…)

The business does this four times a year, apparently, but it’s the first time it’s been inflicted on me.  I gather that the guest speakers in the past have been the usual nonsensical “motivational” speakers like illiterate ex-sportsmen but today we got the Chief Exec of the country’s largest private hospital.  By training, he is a doctor (Hippocratic oath and all); by public speaking style, he is pure MBA Graduate.

He spent 30 minutes telling us how his business leeched millions of pounds from the public coffers every year (this “private” hospital is 95% funded by the NHS, which apparently no longer provides mental health care itself – why would it, after all?) and had every intention, despite officially being a charity, of bleeding the taxpayer for millions more until every single one of the 125 acres of his hospital’s ground is blanketed beneath a duvet of £50 notes.

I’m not sure how I’m supposed to be motivated over the next three months by this man’s vulgar mercenariness but I’m sure you’d like to join me in thanking him for sparing the time to come and talk to us today.

Whatever happened to the good old days when employers didn’t even pretend to care?  What was wrong with a carriage clock and a handshake when you hit retirement and a turkey voucher every other Christmas?