Second day in a small, windowless room, sitting at a dining table from the 80s, 10 meters away from floor to ceiling views of St. Paul's cathedral on the River Thames. The printer averages a page every 5 minutes, or 2-to-a-page every 10. It too is obviously a throwback from a similar decade. Our 3G cards struggle to work in sync with our email clients, the latest failure of one or both announced with a soft tired sigh of resignation. We threaten to turn in our malfunctioning laptops with a well aimed rant, but also know the humiliation when it purrs like a kitten for those in tech. Yet we persevere, typing up minutes in Power Point, diligently taking notes as the interviewee sits there deciding whether telling us the truth will get him fired. Thank goodness it's Friday tomorrow, thank goodness for Scala pasta sauce and canned sardines.
On other more positive fronts, I finally made it to Alpha. I even sacrificed watching Liverpool's valiant exit from the Champion's League, but it was all that the testimonies promised and so much more. It hadn't even properly started yet (although Weng made every effort to answer everyone's questions), but I left refreshed and am eagerly awaiting next week's talk. Our other achievement this week was that we beat insane DoTA AIs 2 vs 2. Oh, geekdom.
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