Schooling fish

One pint of Guinness and I felt drunk. It is amazing how low my tolerance can be to alcohol, but it's fine, I don't mind. I'm a cheap date. Probably too cheap. Which means I'd better be careful who I sit next to next time in the pub.

Today rather than think about my belly, which usually takes up a small part I was scheduled into a schooling session at the Fish Factory. It was a matter of learning the legal requirements in dealing with certain extra large smelly fishes. However, there was really only one word which came to mind during the whole event. It was "arbitrary" because there were so many different things to consider, the size of the fins, whether the fish was poisonous, teeth, who was most likely to be doing last weeks sharpening of the knives and would they have done a good enough job, it ended up like a session of how to swim in a quagmire. Which can take a little practice, seeing as there are many quagmires at the fish factory I think I got some idea on what to do. So the entire schooling was really quite a bit of a no brainer and the Fish Trader who stood up at the front sounded quite like they had never actually got their hands dirty, so the truth being, I just didn't feel I had much confidence or respect in the delivery. I threw in a wobbly and mentioned a couple of Latin words I think the Trader had no idea of what they meant, when if they were worth their salt certainly should of. I'm not actually conversant at Latin, it's just a matter of knowing the odd word. Or two. On occasion. Especially when they are relevant. So all persons present except for the Trader finished the day knowing they had been taught very little and some little fish do have a pretty nasty bite. But I'll not go into piranhas right at this moment because a few of them I'm quite friendly with.

The other thing is, when these high falluting Fish sort earn a higher proportion of sprats than yourself. It's then you wonder how on earth they got into the fish business when they don't really show the acumen worthy of their sprats. So it is always nice to make them feel uncomfortable, to do something about it by then asking awkward questions or stating things they hadn't even thought about. Sometimes I think they suffer from Hubris syndrome, or is it peanut brain disease, well I get confused it's one or the other. But at the end of the day, they will carry on with their full catch of sprats regardless of their proficiency. Sometimes you just have to give up and say OK folks you got the sprats, but my world is in a different ocean from yours'.

So it's no wonder I had a pint in the pub today. My name was written on it. It went down so nicely, just like a fish to water.