Newspaper article Evening Chronicle (Newcastle, England)

Confessions of Lisa Marshall

Newspaper article Evening Chronicle (Newcastle, England)

Confessions of Lisa Marshall

Article excerpt

Wednesday

I've gone up in the world. Wall Street heard about my cash-handling skills and head-hunted me..

Well, that's a bit of a porkie. Reality is, I've accepted an invitation to a friend's work-do - a `Fantasy Stock Exchange'. Now that the night had come, the prospect of watching Corrie with a curry for one was more appealing.

My friend rang at 2pm and I was hoping it was to say the night had been cancelled. But she said someone had dropped out and I could take a friend along. I suddenly got excited at the prospect of not going alone and began to make some calls.

Now have you ever told people you don't want to go to something and in response, they say: "I'd go if I had the chance. It sounds great!"

Well don't believe them.

Because when you say: "Hey, you know what? You CAN come with me!" they suddenly develop all kinds of excuses.

I don't blame them really. I'd probably do the same. But I didn't expect it from my own mother. I live with her, for God's sake. I KNOW she doesn't go to an origami class on a Wednesday.

So I go alone.

Scanning the venue, I recognise Christine and make my way over to a group of women who already appear half-cut. Great. I'm driving so can't even begin to catch up with them. Their voices are 10 octaves higher than they should be and I'm aware of people gazing in our direction when one of the girls falls backwards over a plant.

We make our way through the crowds to our table to find we each have a badge that displays our responsibility (I opt for Financial Director as it means I get to hold the money) and a sun-visor to wear. I scan the room to find that some teams don't need to wear the provided sun-visors as they've already brought their own, complete with checky shirts and braces. I've heard of professional bingo players but these people are on a different level.

Before we know it, trading has begun. Every team seems to know what they're doing and they rush to the stand where all the `red coats' are. Money and share certificates are being passed left, right and centre. Our team just sits, mouths open, not knowing what to do. I think the shock of it all encourages the girls to quickly sober up and they decide, in my capacity as Financial Director, that I should join the crowds of checky shirts and "buy summick" (I think that's how they put it). …

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