Sabine
Nothing like trivia to deflect me from focusing my mind on important things.
A number of people I knew, my father included, where involved in the Commonwealth forces in North Africa, and the standard name for them by the locals who had enough English to be able to communicate with these soldiers was George, it being the name of the king of the day. If you wonder why George, geology, geography and other words start with Geo, it is because the geo bit comes from classical Greek for “earth”. George is a popular Greek name, and when my wife had our first child, she shared a hospital room with an ethnic Greek, who introduced both her father-in-law and her husband, as George, and on being asked her baby's name, she said it was George, and in a tone that suggested any other name was unthinkable.
In my boyhood I knew a circa-13-year-old boy called George. About a week after 5 November 1947, George regaled a group of younger boys with yarns about Guy-Fawkes-Day accidents. I clearly remember my bullshit indicators twitching at the tales of his own heroic prevention of such accidents. The peak of mendacity was reached when George told us that while his uncle was checking why a rocket had not fired, it fired, and took off his uncle's “bloody head”. The headless man, George said, floundered around like a decapitated chook, so a policeman had to shoot him. Baron von Munchausen would have been proud of the implausibility of that story, and the few words required to relay it. My reaction was to be astounded that a boy over twice my age had such poor lying skill, so I categorised George as stupid, and I put the name “George” in the not-to-be-reused box.
I considered changing “squiggles” to “oscillations”, but I was not sure if the latter covered more than very short-term movements, or not. For the want of a precise word that covered the entire time-series graph, I let the knave in me have his way, and “squiggles” elicited the expected rise that I thought it might occasion. If Jacko gets his mob together to sing ditties, he would have to invent a name like “The KingGees” (thing Beegees). For Saragian and his group, “The Squiggles” should do.
I know that there have been years when circa year-end NWH announced contract wins, but I did not feel inclined to research the history. In contracts generally, there is a tendency for contracts to be signed just before year-end to utilise approved expenditure, and just after year-end if new approvals had to be obtained. Also, in sales-commission-driven companies, salesmen and their managers put in extra effort, if they think they can hit a generous sales bonuses and other perks (luxury with-partner trips abroad disguised as sales conferences). If the gap is too large to bridge, salesmen deliberately delay contracts to make life easier in the year that follows. Generally though, EOY is a good selling monthy.
In sequence I had sales roles in two firms in the same sector. One closed off on 31 March, and that was its peak sales month, with December being the worst, which was ascribed to the Silly Season. The other closed off on 31 December, and December was patently its peak selling month. My experience in the latter company was that in The Silly Season, manufacturing and construction businesses would wind down, but the contract signatories remained working, often casually dressed, less stressed for time, and more aminable to a dine-out invitation. These things created a relaxed and productive selling milieu.
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