The course convenor for the Bolton course hasn’t been particularly helpful. He suggested, rather strongly, that I ought to think about taking the MBA course instead of the course I want to do. I held fast. He explained that the first year of the MBA is the same as the course I wanted to do, only more advanced. I’m looking for an introductory course, no dice. He explained that the modules were the same modules, only that there were three of them, rather than six. That’s not what I’m after either, I explained.
“We’re not actually running that course this year.”
Right.
On the flipside, the convenor of the Stockport course couldn’t have been more helpful. We talked about the modules, the course schedule, the residential weekend – we talked about assessment, and about group assignments. It’s not cheap, but it’s worth it. Where do I sign?
Afterwards, I met Jacqui and Sam for Wagamama and a few beers. I bloody love Sam and Jacqui. We ate noodles and exchanged cycling tips. Nothing changes in the old office, nor in the new one. The procurement dodging that my boss has been championing raised a few eyebrows. Their reports drawer would bulge if they were reviewing my service, I said. It wouldn’t matter, they said, nobody reads them anyway.
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