This guy came into my office yesterday for a meeting. He looked like a lion. I’m not kidding. To be more specific, I suppose he was the walking personification of Lion-O from Thundercats.
Word spead quickly, and after a couple of spurious trips to the stationery cupboard that took us past the boardroom for a closer look, four of us were falling about with laughter at this guy.
I’m just glad I wasn’t in the meeting with him. I have no self-control. Most likely I’d have offered him a coffee and a Lion bar. If we’d had a working lunch I’d have told him he looks as if he prefers his meat on the rare side.
I’ve have sold him my services by telling him I take pride in my work, and maintain professionalism even when working in an industry that adheres to the laws of the jungle.
After the meeting, I’d have given him directions back to the tube station. Tackle the zebra crossing, then head up the mane road. That kind of thing.
Perhaps you had to be there. I just can’t imagine anyone meeting him and not thinking ‘You look like a fucking lion, snarf snarf’ straight away. Surely he knows he looks like a lion. He must cultivate that look. Looking like a lion is in this season.