This week I spent a considerable amount of my time working on a tender submission. I will mention neither the tenderer nor what we were tendering for lest I breach some sort of small print. That would be as heinous a crime as is possible in tenderland.

Suffice it to say, anyone who is involved in trying to get work, to make a living for themselves, especially if you’re self employed like me; to pay the bills; to pay for a holiday; or a forthcoming child’s birthday party or simple things like Jordan’s fruit muesli and yoghurt for breakfast. . . tenders are a necessary evil. I found out recently I lost one on price – I dunno how the successful bid can do it for what that suggested but that isn’t my call. . .

So why is it that the people that write the tenders appear to have no concept of what goes on out in the real world? They are the refuge of large public sector organisations, drawn up and drafted by committee, by wonks, tallymen, beancounters and geeks that have nothing better to do with their lives.

And do you know how I know this? Because I was one of these wonks and I worked with the geeks, tallymen and beancounters. I sat through interminable meetings over the years thinking up ingenious ways to baffle potential suppliers at the behest of my superiors and the Buying Wallahs in the Department of Box Ticking, Procedure and Ridiculous Shite.

Did we get the best suppliers? Dunno. Did we have the best procedures? Probably.  Is this keeping a load of people in jobs? Definitely.

If there is reincarnation, then this is probably bad karma and I’ll probably come back as an accounting type person. And see if I do? Woe betides the first person I meet with a creative bone in their body. I will suffocate them with the twin pillows of procedure and petty bureaucracy. Hell Yeah!