I’m off to Canada and wondering why I’m not headed to Cabo instead. Brown warm boy or brown frozen boy? Decisions decisions.
I’m Skyp’ing an old colleague today, a sell side analyst for one of the major investments banks in Canada. We’re trying to arrange for drinks tonight. He’s well educated, quick on his feet and goes a million miles an hour. Interviewing CEO and CFO types, he’s also an expert at getting through bullshit responses to the truth.
“Why are you coming to Toronto?”, he asks. My normal dialog becomes a mumble. I hope he will let it pass. He smells blood. He probes me some more, “Toronto sucks in the winter, why in god’s name would you come up here?”. I mumble a bit more. His eyes dart back and forth to the various screens in his office.
“You went f*cking gay on me didn’t you, coming up to see your boyfriend!”, he stares into the camera. OK – so you got me on that one. He laughs. We arrange a time to get together and quickly signs off. The reality no big deal.
Things will be quiet the next couple of days, try and keep yourself out of trouble. I won’t be, luckily US network news doesn’t even know Canada exists.