It had been something of a hard summer for all of us in various ways. The powers-that-be had been driving us hard in their endless pursuit of quantifiable objectives and we were all getting a bit tired, finding ourselves considerably undermanned for the tasks at hand. Then Raphael went and got himself in trouble by barking up the wrong tree. Irene, having had enough of his constant pawing, went to tell her supervisors that she felt pestered and might they have a word with him. I suppose she thought he’d get a cuff around the ears and that would be the end of it. As it was – the Nordics being a serious lot – she inadvertently triggered a standard corporate protocol response to investigate sexual harassment allegations. This went on to involve lawyers in an uncomfortable internal investigation that divided our team into little huddles given to scowling and muttering in odd corners of the office.  All of this went on for a couple of months but thankfully ended up resolved in some form or other with Raphael finding himself exonerated of any serious wrong-doing. I suppose he was also told he would be wise to stay away from Irene. The ill-feeling this nasty business generated, however, clung to us all like the sulfurous gift that keeps on giving and our director was clearly anxious to find some way to clear the air a bit.

The opportunity came up in the early autumn on the occasion of our semestral weekend seminar. These weekend seminars were mandatory and generally came up in April and October. The company would demonstrate its generosity by putting us up in a four star hotel, wining and dining us on the Friday night, to then claim its pound of flesh by having us up at eight o’clock on the Saturday for a full day of workshops and endless powerpoint presentations. This time around things were organized rather differently. The intended emphasis was clearly on fostering the “feel-good” factor amongst us. The programme stipulated that there would be only two presentations – first thing on Saturday morning of course – and that the rest of the time would be occupied with various sorts of games and activities. All of this would be taking place in the lush surroundings of a family run country hotel built in and around an old masía in the Empordà.

We arrived at the hotel at about seven pm and checked in, being invited to make ourselves comfortable and then head over to the lounge in the main house for an aperitif before dinner. The decor was tasteful and plush in a contemporary rural mediterranean sort of way. The walls were lined with books and arty prints, there was a pool table, a piano – even a guitar – and outside, under the arches of the covered patio, were a number of deep sofas looking out towards the grounds. The bar was well stocked with vast amounts of wine and spirits that we were to help ourselves to free of charge. We were encouraged to take the place over and make ourselves feel at home.

Dinner – served at a table long enough for the thirty of us –  was excellent and the four courses were accompanied by generous quantities of good local wines. By chance I happened to be sitting next to Flavio who had flown in specially for the seminar and who would be giving us the first of the two presentations scheduled for the next morning. Once you got passed his rather guarded demeanour he turned out to be quite interesting in a quiet sort of way. Of mixed Czech and Brazilian extraction, he had read mathematics at university and was also a trained cellist and we spoke at length about his musical background. By the time the coffees had been served and we were invited to go back to the lounge for games and music and more drinks, none of us were feeling any pain.

It was getting late and some of the more sensible amongst us had started to drift off to bed. There was a group of us in the bar mixing yet another round of drinks when Flavio wandered in, doing a little jig to the sounds of the music playing on the stereo and looking rather pleased with himself. He was quite chatty and accepted a drink…and then had another two in quick succession. After this someone offered him a shot of something clear that he necked before demanding a refill. This time he accepted a vile mixture of gin and tequila which he downed without batting an eyelid and I’m not certain that he didn’t ask for another. The rest of us began smirking like naughty schoolboys in the vain hope that we might be sabotaging the presentation due first thing in the morning. At some point I had the good sense to go to bed and I left Flavio in the company of a few others who seemingly still had it in them to stay up drinking.

Next morning, feeling decidedly groggy and bleary-eyed, I was one of the last to make it to the conference room for our eight thirty start. Flavio was standing facing us behind the lectern, looking fresh and rested and waiting for the signal to start his presentation. Looking around at some of the faces in the room I gathered I wasn’t the only one feeling a bit battered. Lorenzo, sitting next to me, looked very hung-over and I asked him how late he had got to bed. Relatively early, he replied, but he hadn’t got much sleep. Lorenzo, it turned out, was staying in the room next to Flavio’s and he had been woken up in the small hours by the sound of his voice coming through the wall, making the most extraordinary sounds and shouting down the phone to someone in very agitated German…and this went on for hours!

The lights were dimmed, the projector came on and Flavio delivered his hour and a half long presentation flawlessly.