Business continuity management: Difference between revisions
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But [[every dog has its day]], and boy oh boy, should [[coronavirus]] have been yours. | But [[every dog has its day]], and boy oh boy, should [[coronavirus]] have been yours. | ||
But ain’t life a bitch sometimes? When, finally, we have that [[black swan]]-fluttering, [[long tail]]-wagging, epochal event of systematic disruption, | But ain’t life a bitch sometimes? When, finally, we have that [[black swan]]-fluttering, [[long tail]]-wagging, epochal event of systematic disruption; when, at last, the sacred, diamanté-encrusted citadel to which, daily, we bend our joyful steps is a crippled, toxic ghost town with a three-mile exclusion zone — when, finally, your tired, your poor, your huddled masses, the wretched refuse of your middle management layer, yearning to freely populate their decks — trudge like obedient beasts and fowls through the teeming deluge, two-by-two, to your magnificent hill-top ark ''where you have been waiting an eternity to give them succour'' — when that day finally comes, it turns out they can’t come to your draughty warehouse even if they wanted to, but — ''worse!'' — they seem to be getting along just fine logging in from a laptop in the spare room and they aren’t even missing the business continuity warehouse facility you so lovingly curate for them! | ||
Business continuity management: a cautionary tale against providing in advance for contingencies you cannot hope to anticipate. | |||
{{sa}} | {{sa}} | ||
*[[Coronavirus]] | *[[Coronavirus]] | ||
*[[Every dog has its day]] | *[[Every dog has its day]] | ||
Revision as of 15:22, 31 December 2020
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People Anatomy™
A spotter’s guide to the men and women of finance. 
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Until coronavirus came along an embittered, disregarded, disenfranchised, but yet strangely redundancy-proof contingency, made to live out their days in an enormous, drafty warehouse in Aldershot, with a suspiciously small number of parking spaces, and only one establishment selling edible food within realistic walking distance of of the facility, being the sole franchisee of Chester the Chicky Chick’s Charcoal Chicken “chain” of “family restaurants”.
But every dog has its day, and boy oh boy, should coronavirus have been yours.
But ain’t life a bitch sometimes? When, finally, we have that black swan-fluttering, long tail-wagging, epochal event of systematic disruption; when, at last, the sacred, diamanté-encrusted citadel to which, daily, we bend our joyful steps is a crippled, toxic ghost town with a three-mile exclusion zone — when, finally, your tired, your poor, your huddled masses, the wretched refuse of your middle management layer, yearning to freely populate their decks — trudge like obedient beasts and fowls through the teeming deluge, two-by-two, to your magnificent hill-top ark where you have been waiting an eternity to give them succour — when that day finally comes, it turns out they can’t come to your draughty warehouse even if they wanted to, but — worse! — they seem to be getting along just fine logging in from a laptop in the spare room and they aren’t even missing the business continuity warehouse facility you so lovingly curate for them!
Business continuity management: a cautionary tale against providing in advance for contingencies you cannot hope to anticipate.