The weakest Link

Today ended with a slightly more manic burst of activity than I was expecting.

It’s been an otherwise slow day in Charmed Central, as the cosmos attempts to re-assert some balance after an unexpectedly productive week. Jake rocked up at 9:00 sporting the fruits of a nephew-infected lergy, and by 9:05 it was pretty clear that we weren’t going to get his full attention on the task of bringing the walking dead to the big screen.

We dealt with our immediate missions. And then we sent him home.

Although, now I come to reflect on the day, we did get quite a lot done before the fever finally bubbled over. Crew postings for a sound guy, Production Designer and wardrobe manager went up on Shooting People and Talent Circle, much running around trying to find a place to stay while we’re up in London at Chris Jones’ Guerilla Film Makers’ Masterclass in early June, and at least thirty minutes of solid moaning about the eleventh-hour postponement of our trip to the Houses of Parliament.

Damn, did it feel good to be able to have a proper moan again.

So, after a leisurely afternoon keeping on top of my emails (for a change) and bringing all the business paperwork up to date, I was all set to settle down for a relaxing evening.

And then somebody tapped me up on LinkedIn.

I guess everybody is on LinkedIn these days, even though it doesn’t look as fun as Facebook (and I have to ‘fess up to struggling to find much in the way of entertainment there either). When LinkedIn started a few years back, I gave it the absolute minimum amount of effort required to set an account up. And then I completely ignored it. Every so often an automated email arrives from somebody asking me to link up with them. I push the Accept button. Job done.

So it was with the same casual disregard that I clicked the Accept button in an email this evening.

And then it struck me… a professional from within the entertainment industry, with whom I have been trading a few emails recently, can now see my profile. Untended, unloved and unfinished, like my enthusiasm for gardening made digital. Not only that, but according to the limited and poorly-punctuated information available, I’m still designing phones for a living.

Tell me, just how serious is this zombie project, Mr Phelps?

So bang went my chilled Monday night as I mowed and weeded through my personal LinkedIn undergrowth, hopefully in good time for tomorrow morning’s inspection. But, I’m pleased to report, that while Andy’s patch isn’t going to win any National Trust prizes, at least it now looks like you could have a wander through it without treading on something unpleasant. And can I please leave this laboured gardening metaphor behind now?

That said, one of the benefits of running your own company is you get to award yourself a job title. 'Head Honcho' won out narrowly over 'Über Daddy and 'Grand Fromage', although I see my role as encapsulating elements from all three disciplines. Autocratic.