The Way We Work...

Morning!

Thank goodness for coffee eh? 

Well, here I am, at the airport. Again.  It's 8am and I've been up since 5am.  Well, a girl has to make sure her fur looks good before travelling you know.  Anyway, as I sit here with my Super Large Coffee, I've been contemplating travel and the journey to work.

When I started out my career as an Office Junior Mouse back in... well, let's not give any dates away, but it was more than a few weeks back, if you know what I mean, well anyway, I used to get the bus into the office every morning.  I was often late as I hated that bus and that office junior job come to that.  I would clonk over the road in my high heels - yes - even mice wear high heels when they're young and foolish, make the bus by the tuft of my tail and sit at the back with a good book and eat my lunch on the journey to work.  Once in the City Centre (where else did anyone work in those days? Business Parks were yet to be invented), I would clonk along the pavement, staring in the shop windows at the aspirational pay day purchases, under the subway (long since filled in by Health and Safety), purchase a pocketful of mints (have I ever told you how many fillings I have) and clonk up the office steps just in time to install myself in front of my typewriter (yes, not connected to ANYTHING other than a ribbon) in time for coffee with at least four sugars (back to the fillings again).  This is how everyone worked.  A few years later when I had passed my driving test, I would clumsily clunk the gears and grind my way into my next office - located OUT OF TOWN (progress!) and clonk (still in the high heels) into yet another office, log onto my computer (more progress!)and while DOS booted up (not that much progress, then!) I would go and queue up for a cheese pastie (easier on the fillings).

Then Business Parks happened.  Purpose built complexes complete with inadequate parking - first come, first served.  I even tried getting Edie to lend me one of her stuffed rabbits so I could sit it in the passenger seat and try to sneak into the carshare spots.  I logged onto bigger, faster computers, discovered coffee, and started to lower my heels. Nothing to do with age, you understand.

Then came train travel to exotic locations.  London! Sheffield! Birmingham!  Once I flew to Ireland!  On a little tiny 6 seat plane.  I was still young enough to make the most of the situation, partying with lovely Irish friends and fitting in a bit of work.  I remember that trip very well.  Something awful and very sobering happened in the news.  The date was September 11th.  Where were you?

Anyway I digress.  As I got into my routine this morning, up at 5, wash my whiskers, brush my fur, brush what's left of my teeth, put on my flat travel boots, quick stock check of the travel bags, it occured to me that this is now normal.  To travel not only 5, 15 or even 50 miles to the office but to travel hundreds of miles.  To go by car, by train, by plane.  To set up my office wherever I lay my hat, so to speak.  And do you know what? I love it.  It makes for an interesting life. Not so much a 9-5 as a wherever and whenever. And  am sure I am more productive for it.  No more staggering in late with the minimum of enthusiasm.  No more timing my arrival with the delivery of morning munchies, and certainly no more sugar.  I am a healthier, older and much more focussed and enthused Mouse these days (although perhaps a little less stylish).  Isn't it amazing that we can get better work / life balance, which until a few years ago was just a saying without substance, by timing our work around our lives. It suits me and I find I react much more quickly.

Anyway, oops, time is flying and so must I. No delays today so off I go. 

Maybe time for just one more coffee?

Wishing you all a lovely day,
Mouse xxx

Mouse is on the road again...

Hey hey! Or should that be Hej hej!  Miss Mouse is back on the road! No more silly travel ban.

It's been okay - sort of - doing my job by telephone, conference call and e-mail but there is just something missing - there is something about looking people in the eye, sharing a coffee, sharing frustrations, being able to laugh at the complexity of the Cheese Ordering process and working together to try to make it just a little bit better.

The other aspect of travelling is, well, the actual travelling.  Having two hours of literally airtime, up in the air, as opposed to Mouse Radio, gives my brain a bit of exercise.  Sure, sometimes I read a book - Mouse Mystery is my favourite - or I have a little snuggle sleep, but I also get to think, think and just think some more about how to make the ordering better for the Farmers.

And this also leads me to think about hotels I have stayed in.  I always used to stay in the same one - The Hilton - which sounds very posh but was actually just nice and clean.  Once when I turned up, there was no booking for me and I had to go to a different hotel - that was a RISK - what if there was no cheese? the beds were not nice? or no bath to have a lovely Mouse soak at the end of a busy day?  I found another one though and it's super 70s decor was quite fun. Once, however, I had a nasty shock when I opened my hotel door - a different hotel again, because I was over when a big trade fair was taking place and the usual haunts were all booked up.  The hotel room was small. The view was of a yard. The room was hot and the pipes were noisy.  But that wasn't the problem. There, on the bed, staring at me, were...

...THESE THREE.  Just sitting there.  Just like that!  I was thankful that they weren't cats, but they still scared me out of my fur.  They explained to me that they were for sale and placed there to encourage guilt ridden travellers to purchase them for their children, to compensate for their absent parents.  However, to be placed out in the open in a hotel room where, well, anyone can stay, puts them in a very vulnerable position. You wonder why they are huddled together?

I am travelling back to Sweden next week and I'm trying out yet another new hotel.  This one promises breakfast AND an evening buffet! I have it on good authority from a colleague that the buffet is A-OK, and it is very close to the OST shop just in case I get nibbly.  For those of you who don't know, OST means...

...CHEESE  :-D

Big Cheesy Love
Mouse xx

Mousehog Day...

After a lovely long Christmas break, it's back to work with polished whiskers, slicked back fur, a shiny new diary and a backpack full of enthusiasm and resolutions.

I got back to work a whole 2 days before the Farmers, and most of the Suppliers, so I have a lovely time, tidying up my e-mails, going down the Cheese Order list, looking at the Cheese Order forecast for what should be coming up, and I am prepared and calm.  I write neat lists in my diary and type away on my new shiny laptop. I'm so pleased to have one that fits my paws.

When I last went to Sweden, for the Big Meeting, we decided to hold the Big Meeting every month and that it would be a jolly useful forum to discuss Cheese Orders - both current and the ones coming up.  The Suppliers who keep the cows for the milk for the cheese, and the Suppliers who do the packaging would both come, and the Nice Lady who is the independent body Cheese Integrator would come.  The Rare Beast would come (he is now the Supplier with the Cows - remember?).  All of the farmers would attend - the ones who supply the restaurants, the ones who supply the farm shops, and even the really big wholesale ones, so that we could really understand the cheese requirements in plenty of time and get them ordered.

So, it was agreed.  It was written down and everything.

So I set up the meeting. I invited all of the people I needed to invite.  I booked a big meeting room.  I planned the flights.

And then I got an e-mail from the Chief Farmer:-

From:-Chief Farmer

To:- Mouse

Subject:- Cheese Delivery Meeting

Dear Mouse,

What is this meeting? Who told you to set it up?

Farmer.

My reply:-

From:- Mouse

To:- Chief Farmer

Subject:- Re: Cheese Delivery Meeting

Hello Mr. Farmer Sir,

It is the meeting we agreed on at the Big Meeting.  It was written down.  It is about managing the Cheese Orders.

Mouse.

And then...

From:- Chief Farmer

To:- Mouse

Subject:- Re: re: Cheese Delivery Meeting

Dear Mouse,

Please cancel this meeting.  I will set one up.

Farmer.

I was a little bemused by this, as in the writing down of the original Big Meeting it clearly said:-

Arrange regular Big Meetings - MOUSE.

So - nothing happens for the remainder of the time before Christmas.  This week I get a call from one of the Suppliers with the cows asking me if the Big Meeting is happening.  I explain the situation.  A short while later he calls me back.  The meetings have been arranged.  He is not invited. I am not invited.  The Nice Lady from the Cheese Integration Board is not invited.  My bosses boss has been invited!  The Nice Lady's bosses boss has been invited! The Rare Beast has been invited! A man who has left the company has been invited!

So the meeting planned by the people who own the end to end Cheese Ordering process, who should attend, are not invited, but a random gaggle of people at the wrong level to be effective, but are nevertheless VERY IMPORTANT are invited.

I think I may give up.

And then, from another area, I get a call this morning.  'Mouse - I need to order some Cheese.  I need a specialist blend of Cheese for a huge order, which will span the globe.  I have promised that we will use a special blend of herbs from a 3rd Party Supplier and the Milk and Packaging Suppliers must incorporate this into production.  I haven't written the requirements yet.  We need the cheese in 4 weeks.

Repetitively yours,

Mouse x

The Ghost of Christmas Present...

I did something this year that I haven't done for years.

I took a Christmas holiday.  Or should I say, I am taking a Christmas holiday?  There is still one day left of 2012 and then I get to go to a party with my boss, Edie, and her humans, and sing in the New Year with a thimble full of Sherry.  And then I get another day off.  And then it is back to work.

I am a very lucky Mouse this year.  After thumping away on a massive computer owned by one of Edie's other employees (the human one) I have my own laptop!  Look!  I'm very proud of it and it's just my size.  I wish it had a picture of cheese on it instead of an apple, but apart from that it's perfect.

So I've been thinking about what next year might hold, as we tend to do at this point in the calendar. There are changes afoot - I can smell them (the changes, not the feet).  Working with the farmers has been a bit of a battle in some respects, getting all these tricky changes put in place when the farmers don't want them at all, so I might see if I can so something slightly different.  Or do something differently.  There is a difference. Are you still with me? Will I still be a travelling Mouse? Will I still be travelling to the same places? I plan to do a bit more leisure travelling too, in 2013.  Edie, my boss, keeps promising me a trip to Paris, to something called 'Disney' - she says there is a famous Mouse there.  And she wants to go to two festivals next year, instead of the usual one.  And in February she is taking me to stay in a cottage in a place called Buxton.  Apparently you can buy water there and it's near a town called Bakewell that is famous for cakes.  I like that a lot.  We're going to do some walking in the countryside and then eat a lot of cake.

It's a funny time, Christmas and New Year, and especially these days in between, to reflect on the things, good and bad, that have happened.  Hopes and dreams still not yet realised, friends not seen for too long and time not taken between whizzing about, to just think and be.  These are the ghosts. And the present, apart from the lovely shiny computer, is the time taken to sit and think about slowing down, being a happy little Mouse and enjoying what I have, right now.

So al that remains for 2012 is for me to wish you all a Happy New Year for 2013, be open to opportunities my friends, and count your blessings.

Oh - I've also resolved to type this blog a bit more often.  You'd like that, wouldn't you...?

With a Merry little Mouse dance,
Mouse x

Back to Sweden...

I'm back to being a travelling Mouse!  I knew it would happen soon, and I'm very glad to be back to my travels, although not always for the reasons for them.  

The travel ban is still in place.  So why was I allowed to get on a plane and fly to Sweden?  Well, I wasn't so much allowed, as summonsed...

The cheese order - the one that the Farmers promised to the restaurant by Christmas, before even filling out a Cheese Requisition form and submitting it to me - and which wasn't a standard cheese at all - remember?  If not, go back two or three posts and read up.  I'll wait...

...With me now?  Good.  Well, because of the Big Boss and the complaints from the Farmers that the Cheese just wasn't going to be delivered fast enough, (because, hello, they hadn't ORDERED it!), I had to go over for a meeting with them AND the restaurant to explain the process.

Yes, you read that right.  I, Mouse, had to explain to the restaurant why the non standard cheese that the Farmers hadn't bothered to order in time, would be 'late'.  Well in actual fact it isn't even going to be 'late' because (because of The Big Boss and The Big Noise) the Cheese Suppliers were producing it 'in time' anyway.

So off I went. But I was not alone.

With me, and representing The Big Boss, came my colleague Muttley. He is called Muttley because he likes medals.  Like this Muttley:-

Also with me, is The Rare Beast.  Now you may remember that only a couple of months ago The Rare Beast came stamping and roaring into my world, telling me how he would SORT OUT THOSE CHEESE SUPPLIERS and that I, Mouse, would not get in his way or stop him and of how he would use his big boots to kick anyone who did not do his bidding.  Well I think he must have hurt his foot, kicking against an immovable object because he is moving on.  Yes, The Rare Beast is leaving to become, of all things, a Cheese Supplier! So, with The Rare Beast also comes the boss of The Rare Beast (yes - he has one - a very nice chap), and a lady who will be stepping into his very big shoes with her rather smaller and more gentle feet.

We have done a lot of preparation for this meeting.  We know exactly who said what to who, when and why.  We know when the Cheese Requisition was filled in, we have copies of the additional restaurant additional non-standard specifications and we have a timeline, drawn up by a referee facilitator.  The plan is to walk through the timeline with the Farmers and the Cheese Integrators (The Rare Beast and his team, who interface directly with the Cheese and packaging manufacturers), and decide how we can work better for future Cheese Orders (I already know the answer to this; order your cheese earlier and by the correct process! I may have mentioned this several thousand times, I may have not).

So we walk into the meeting room.  Three hours have been set aside for the trial process analysis.  The first noticeable thing is that there is NOBODY from the team of Farmers Who Order. In other words the people who kicked up the fuss in the first place.  I cast my mind back to many screaming phone calls that left me trembling in my fur.  The chief protagonist is on a 'Learning to Manage Your Team' course in the Outer Hebrides.  The Farmer who promised the order to the restaurant is off sick.  There is no other representative from the team of Farmers Who Order and therefore, the people who have to do things differently in future are not there to hear this.

The facilitator puts his fancy presentation onto the screen. He opens his mouth to speak but before he can utter a word the Big Boss Mr. Moose addresses the table.  He makes it clear that the Cheese Ordering process does not work for him and so he requires us to find a way around it.  Break the process. Cheat. Be a special case.  This is where Muttley steps in.  Muttley does the same job as I do, but in the UK. The Farmers there do as they are told - partly because Muttley is always telling them to, and partly because Mrs. Muttley is one of the Farmers there and if he wants Cheese on Toast for tea, he has to make sure Mrs. Muttley has ordered it in time.

So Muttley steps up and tells them that all the Farmers in the world have to follow this process.  They didn't want to do the cheese production any more, and so they sold the cows, and the manufacturing business, and the wrapping and packaging business, to two separate suppliers, so that they could buy the service back cheaply.  Cheaply is the operative word - the Farmers bought a contract which didn't have manufacturers and wrappers just sitting around awaiting an order.  Therefore planning is paramount.

Muttley paces the room.  He draws diagrams on the whiteboard in red pen.  The Rare Beast senses a rival, and, bearing in mind he is about to become a Cheese Supplier he roars several 'solutions' which involve the Farmers spending more money with the Cheese Suppliers for a better version of the service they are already paying for.  Back and forth it goes, over to Muttley, over to The Rare Beast.  It is a testosterone match.  BAT goes The Rare Beast 'I can solve all your problems, it will cost you more but you will get my personal Rare Beast attention on it'.  BAT goes Muttley 'No!  Planning is the key! Do your planning better.' BAT goes Big Boss Mr. Moose 'But we are so small and so busy.  Why can't Mouse do our planning for us.' BAT goes Muttley 'My Farmers are well trained because I trained them. I can train you too. Just look at my fancy diagrams. The answer is in those scribbles.' BAT goes The Rare Beast 'well of course when I am the Cheese Supplier I will be here all the time making sure you are happy with your Cheese...'

The rest of us can hardly get a word in.

As the meeting ends, some three exhausting hours later, we have a plan.  We will have MEETINGS, says Muttley, every month.  And the Farmers Who Order will hold MEETINGS with me, Mouse.  Remembering that the Farmers Who Order are not actually there, I wonder how this action will get implemented.  And considering that I have been having these MEETINGS for about a year now, I do wonder if anything will change at all.

After the meeting Muttley puts his arm around my shoulders. 'Mouse,' he says. 'I will tell The Big Boss how I have helped you today and I will come back and help you again. I will now go and speak to The Big Boss and I will get the medal catalogue out and choose my medal.  I have earned it today, Mouse.'

I can't help feeling cross right to the end of my whiskers.  One of the quieter members of the team, the boss of The Rare Beast smiles at me. 'Didn't we have that same meeting about six months ago, Mouse?' he says? 'Before The Rare Beast and Muttley?'  Indeed we did, but of course we are not as loud and do not draw so many diagrams.  I sigh, resolve to let things go where they will, and continue doing the best a little Mouse can.

And then something lovely happens, I go out for dinner with all of my lovely Miss and Mr. Moose friends - the ones I have missed during the silly travel ban. This makes the trip worthwhile and makes me hope that the future meetings are agreed to, so that I can keep coming back.

Oh - and I didn't use my fancy lounge pass this time.  I'm saving it for a day when I travel alone, and then I will book in 4 hours before the flight and enjoy every moment.

Fondest Swedish Hugs,
Mouse x

The Big Boss...

Mouse's drawing of The Big Boss

'Dear Mouse, we are pleased to tell you that you have won a free pass to our No. 1 Traveller Lounge at Birmingham Airport.  Please let us know when you will next be travelling.'

This really happened.  This week. And do you know what? despite the Travel Ban I might have to go to Sweden in the next few weeks.  Hoorah!

However, I will have to go because I have been summonsed by the Farmers with the cheese order that went rather awry.  Well, not summonsed exactly, but we are to have a post mortem on the entire process.  Originally there were to be two post mortems, one with the Farmers themselves, and another with the Suppliers who supply the milk for the cheese and the Packaging Suppliers.  However it has now been shortened down to one shorter session with all parties concerned. Because it takes all parties to work together.   Much more sensible.

When you pick it apart, the process with the Suppliers with the Cows and the Packaging Suppliers works though.  It works as it should.  As it was designed to. The contract with the Cheese Suppliers and the Packaging Suppliers is designed to be reactive - the Farmers place their orders, the Suppliers respond.  This is a reasonably priced outsourcing situation.

You can buy a Super Duper Outsourcing Deluxe package where you pay the Suppliers with the Cows and the Packaging Suppliers a lot of money to have cows standing around ready to be milked just in case, and ladies sitting at a long trestle table with rolls of cellophane and tape, and sticky labels, just waiting to package any cheese that might come in.  

The Farmers didn't buy that deal.

However when the latest Cheese order went a bit wrong, because it was complicated and the restaurant wanted fancy ingredients in time for Christmas, and the Farmers had promised this, the Big Bosses got involved.

The Farmer's Big Boss called my boss Edie's boss'e boss.  Do try to keep up.

A lot of screaming and shouting took place.  Some sulking ensued. I had to write a report of everything that had happened so far, and so did The Rare Beast (me and The Rare Beast have long since made friends with each other).  Turns out we had done everything properly and as we should have done (of course! That's what they pay me for!) but do you know what?  The Big Boss then agreed to go to the Big Boss of the Suppliers with the Cows and the Suppliers who do the packaging and miraculously, all the Cheese appeared the next day.

Those of you with small children will, of course, understand that this is like giving screaming children a chocolate bar before dinner, just because the child didn't like the answer 'No'.  

Rewarding bad behaviour.

However, that aside, off I will go to talk about it with the Farmers and I will love being there again.  I really cannot tell you how lovely it is in Sweden and I might even get out to my favourite Cheese Cafe at lunchtime.

I also did have a very good conversation with the Big Boss of the Division of Farmers who supply restaurants.  It is true that fancy cheeses with non-standard ingredients (like maybe chillis or cranberries) ARE needed, of course, and so a standard cheese ordering process might not work for them, but as it is all we have to work with he agreed to order the cheese much earlier on.

I wish I could Fix the World sometimes, but I can't, I'm only a little Mouse.  But I can listen and try to get the Farmers to put in their Cheese Orders earlier, because that is the key.

And - what a lucky little Mouse I am - I get to go in here:-

http://www.no1traveller.com/birmingham-airport-lounge.htm

Be assured - there will be photos.

Tiny hugs,
Mouse xx

A Day in the Life...

My boss, Edie, is a bit of a one for mixed messages. 'Mouse,' she says 'you must not get involved in Cheese orders where less than 500kg of cheese are ordered.  That is what The Rare Beast is there for.  You only get involved in the big orders.  Okay? You deal with The Big Stuff, he deals with the small stuff.  Got it?'

Yep - I've got that, Boss.  However, we currently have what is known in the trade as 'a situation' with a low value, 300kg Cheese Order.  The situation is this:-

The Farmers signed a contract with a restaurant.  The restaurant have menus with very strict cheese requirements.  The Famers agreed to supply that cheese, by a certain date, without bothering to ask me or the Cheese Suppliers first.  When the contract had been signed, the Farmers filled in a Cheese Requirements requisition and sent it through to me, to lodge with the Suppliers. 

When the order was examined, the Suppliers who own the cows noticed that the requirement is for cheese made with soya milk.  The Suppliers who wrap the cheese noticed that this cheese must be shrink wrapped.  Neither are in the standard catalogue of cheese supplies that the Farmers' are supposed to order from.

After much argument, the Suppliers who wrap the cheese decided they didn't want to go to the expense of buying a shrink wrapping machine and declined to offer.  The Suppliers who own the cows said that they could offer, but as the cheese is non-standard there would be a longer lead time to supply it.  They also agreed to shrink wrap the cheese (but were, of course, not allowed to offer this until the Suppliers who wrap the cheese declined).

In the meantime the Farmers have promised the restaurant that they will have their cheese in time for the Christmas menu.

Small Cheese order?  Over to you, Rare Beast. According to our roles and responsibilities I do not get involved.

Until of course, it all starts to go wrong.

The Suppliers who own the cows submit their Cheese Proposal.  When the Farmers see the cost, and the lead times, it slowly dawns on them that they are in trouble.  Rather than keeping close to the Suppliers throughout the process, and managing the altogether unreasonable expectations of the restaurant, the Farmers in charge of ordering have let the cheese tasters have all of the conversations with both the restaurant and the man from the Cheese Suppliers (still with me? try to keep up).

The cheese tasters and the restaurant are only really interested in how the cheese tastes - it doesn't occur to them to talk timelines and other requirements (like the shrink wrapping).

So - this is what happens:-

The head Farmer writes a letter of complaint.  Not to me, his contact in Cheese Governance, not to The Rare Beast, his official contact, and not even to my boss, Edie, but to my boss's boss, Dog Dog.

Instead of replying, Dog Dog passes the complaint to Edie, who passes the complaint, you've guessed it, to me.

'Write me a reply, Mouse.  I want to know what those Cheese Suppliers are going to do about it.'

'But Boss, this is a low value order - shouldn't The Rare Beast...?

'I'm looking at YOU, Mouse.'

Okay.

So I look into it and I discover the facts.  We have a conference with the Farmers and the restaurant owners. The Rare Beast gets very grumpy indeed on this call and I have to resort to sending him an instant message - 'Calm down, Rare Beast.  We are right to tell off the Farmers for their bad planning, but not in front of their customer.'

I have a long and heated discussion with the Farmers and their cheese tasters - who feel that the Supplier who owns the Cows should have talked to the restaurant directly - 'No Farmers, the restaurant owners are YOUR customers.  It is up to YOU to make sure that their requirements are accurately passed through.'

So I pass this information back to Edie. The order was non-standard.  The requirements changed half way through because the Supplier who wraps the cheese declined to offer.  Questions submitted to the Farmers by the Suppliers who own the cows have not been answered. On that basis, I ask, how can I tell the Farmers when they will have their cheese?  They haven't even ordered it yet.

'MOUSE!' says Edie. 'I asked you to tell me when they can have it and you have not done that.'

I consider telling Edie that she is bad as the Farmers, in shouting at me because I convey something that she does not want to hear.

In the meantime you know what I do?  I pass it to The Rare Beast.  I'm going to follow process and he can have it.  Good Luck sorting that lot out, Rare Beast.

But I am sure that he can do it.  Do you know why?  He is travelling to meet the Farmers next week.  As you know, I can't travel due to costs.  I offered to support him on a meeting he is having with a particularly tricky lady Farmer and do you know what he said?

He said 'I don't need you to support me, Mouse.  I'm sure she will respond better to me.  Because I'm a guy.'

He really did.  And he really said 'guy.'

This makes me chuckle.  And don't get me wrong, I'm not cross with Edie - she's a sweetheart - just an under pressure sweetheart.

I am sure it will all blow over and will soon be overtaken by the next crisis, but in the meantime, be careful where you book your Christmas meal - they could be out of Cheese.

With whiskery hugs,
Mouse xx

Absence makes the Farmers stranger...

Get me - doing two blogs in one week again. You can tell I'm not spending half of my life on an aeroplane now eh?

Something funny has started to happen since the travel ban was imposed. I have had my own little mobile phone for a long time - it's very nice although the buttons are a bit big for my paws.  Anyhow, that's not the point.  This phone, although very pretty, never used to ring very much.  The Farmers and the Cheese Suppliers and the Miss Mooses would wait until they saw me, and meetings would be planned and I would attend.

Now it's a case of 'out of sight' but not 'out of mind'.  They still have meetings with me but this is how it happens.

My phone rings.  I answer it. 'Hello, Mouse speaking.'

'Mouse!' bellows the Farmer / Supplier / Miss Moose (except of course, Miss Mooses do not bellow, they speak softly). 'It's me, I'm in a meeting room.  I've got several other people with me.  We have some questions...'

And off they go, question after question. 'The Cheese Suppliers are not working quickly enough.' 'What is the re-order process when we want more Cheese?' 'What if we want a different packaging?' 'What is the name of the Cow supplying the milk for my Cheese?' 'I spoke to the Cheese Supplier and told him we wanted to increase our order, but only the original amount turned up.' etc etc.

All perfectly reasonable, I suppose. But it puts a Mouse on the spot somewhat.

What if I say something that isn't quite correct, or they misunderstand me? What if I don't know the answer?  What if I need to go for a wee and am hopping from paw to paw?

Now I know that when the Farmers made their own Cheese, this is the sort of banter they would have with each other as part of the process.  But it has all changed.  It is no business of the Farmers' which Cow is used for Milk (it says so in the contract - the Cheese Suppliers may use whichever cow they so choose, or a mix of milk from different cows).  There is a process to be followed.  Order increases have to be controlled by a CCR (Cheese Change Request)and go through the system - a chat with Supplier is only that, a chat.

And most of all, where are their good, old fashioned manners?  If you want to ask me all of these questions I am quite happy to answer them IF you:-

Send me a meeting invitation.
Send me your list of questions.
Send me an agenda.
Tell me who will be at the meeting.
Ask me if I want to invite someone.

That way, I can make sure I am prepared.  I can do my homework first, check the contract, ask the Suppliers (or invite them to speak for themselves) and I can make sure I've been for a wee.

It's enough to drive a Mouse to drink...

Hiccup-ingly yours,
Mouse xx

The Taming of the Rare Beast...

Is it true that a little Mouse can ever triumph over a big, snarly, scary all powerful Rare Beast with exceptionally large, stampy feet?

My encounter with The Rare Beast (come on, keep up, it's at least two posts ago) had left me feeling rather shaky of paw and whisker.  I pondered and worried and nearly drove myself furless trying to work out how to win and maintain the trust of the Farmers and the Cheese Suppliers.  And then I came up with a plan.

Do nothing.

Literally, to not care.

The Rare Beast liked this approach. With no little Mouse getting under his great big feet he was free to go and do whatever he pleased with the Farmers. 'You will like me, Farmers.  I am a Rare Beast and I am all Powerful.'

'Where is our cheese, Rare Beast?' (and where is that nice little Mouse who is quite sweet and funny?)

'Never mind your cheese.  There are rules.  Here are the rules.' (Hands over a long list, headed 'Rules', and typed in tiny font, using all kinds of complicated words).

'Mouse, we have a problem.'

'Sorry, Farmers, you have to ask The Rare Beast.' (And back I go to making pretty coloured charts for my office wall).

This goes on for a few weeks. I meet with The Rare Beast every week and he gives me updates.  He looks fraught and is speaking very quickly.  I am relaxed with my feet paws up on the table and a cocktail in my paw.  Okay I might be fibbing about the cocktail.  And the paws on the table.  But I am relaxed.

The Rare Beast's confidence is not dented - he talks about a new, far less Rare Beast who works with him now who 'is not as robust as me, Mouse. Nobody is.' But I notice his feet look a bit smaller.

And then I went on holiday.  It was lovely.  I went in a tent with my small boss, Edie, and played Super Mouse games for two weeks. 

I come back for my meeting with The Rare Beast and he knocks on my door (that's new - he used to charge through it).  He looks weary.

'Mouse,' he says, 'I am glad you are back.  I have been TOO busy.  The Farmers are continually asking questions and the Cheese Suppliers aren't speaking to me.  Even the Cheese Integration Co-operative, who I work for, are not speaking to me.  The Farmers are speaking to me.  Well, they're shouting at me.'

I look at his feet.  They have shrunk.  Small.  Tiny.  Teeny, weeny little feet that a baby Sparrow would have trouble hopping on.  That's what happens when you kick too many creatures too hard, I suspect.

'I got in a bit of a muddle, Mouse.  I mixed up an order for 500 Gorgonzola with an order for 3000 Edam.  And I delivered a consignment of extra strong mature cheddar to the Farmers' Annual Rugby event wrapped in pink tissue by mistake.'

I don't break a smile.  Not even a twitch of the whiskers.

'Okay Rare Beast.  Would you like my help?'

'Yes please, Mouse.  Although not really too much, as I am actually very very clever and quite Rare...'

'Whatever, Rare Beast.  Whatever.'

As for Super Mouse, the picture is of me in my sleeping bag, with my Super Mouse headband on as a necklace.  I hope you like it.

With Smiley Squeaks,

Mouse xx

Grounded...

Here's a question for you.  What do you get if you send your Miss Mouses, your Kitties, Ponies and Fairys all over Europe keeping Cheese and Fish customers connected to the Suppliers?  

Answer?  A big travel bill.

The boss, Edie, has discovered that her forecast travel budget of £12.82 has been somewhat exceeded and I am therefore grounded.  In some ways a travel ban is no bad thing, I no longer have a permanent suitcase in my room (well I do, but only because I'm too lazy to put it away), my working day has more or less dropped to a normal 9-5 (and a bit, at either end)and I am not spending my life running after cancelled planes, sitting in wet patches or being rescheduled.  I more or less know where I am and where I will be and I get to spend a lot of time in my home office, which is great as I sometimes don't brush my whiskers until lunchtime.

But in other ways - well - oh I know it makes sense but I have spent a lot of time building up my relationships with the Miss Mooses and the Farmers and the Cheese Suppliers and because of this, I can do it all by telephone very easily but, oh there is something about looking each other in the eye and shaking paws. A big part of what I have been doing is about meeting new people and creatures and working together to make something that doesn't work very well, work a whole lot better.  I looked all of this up in the dictionary and it took me ages, but it came up with 'job satisfaction'.

And I miss airports and funny hours and drinking a lot of coffee. I miss waking up seeing the Malmo skyline.  I miss sitting out in the square with a blanket on my knee and a heater next to me in the middle of Winter just watching the world go by.  After all, I am a travelling Mouse. What will become of my little blog if 'The Adventures of a Travelling Mouse' are now reporting my ventures to the Supermarket for extra cheese rations?  I will have to think of another title, perhaps 'The Adventures of SuperMouse'.

Actually that makes me think of a holiday I took this Summer with the boss, Edie, and her Big People.  Edie made me a cape and a headband and let me be SuperMouse for the entire stay in a tent. It was a very big tent and the wind and rain were very bad.  I think it's only my SuperMouse powers that stopped the tent from blowing away.

I also went cycling - maybe I will tell you all a bit about that in my next blog!

In the meantime I will keep my feet on the ground, my paws on the keyboard, and a bit of my heart in Sweden.

Saluting you!
Mouse xx

Mouse and The Rare Beast...

I meet all sorts of creatures in my frankly not quite normal job.  It is a strange industry with long and complicated processes - do you remember the Cheese Farmers and the tale I told of how they outsourced their cheese production to two Service Providers? one provider took over the cows and now run milk production, and the other provider is in charge of packaging and logistics?  No?  Take five minutes and scroll down to the blog entry entitled ‘Collaborative Working’, and then come back and read this.

Done that? right.  Well, to cut a long story short, after the closure of the Farm Shop due to the non arrival of the ordered cheese, the Farmers complained so much that the suppliers set up a Cheese Integration Group.  Well, one of the suppliers did.  The Cheese Integration Group is supposed to be an independent body who oversee fair play in the production of Cheese.  That means managing the suppliers and, indeed, the Farmers themselves if they misbehave - like agreeing to have Cheese delivered in August and then complaining when it hasn’t arrived by June - a full two months before the agreed date.  This is supposed to make my Mouse life easier, by having only one body to go to instead of two.  Perfect.  In theory.

Only the Cheese Integration Group is actually run by the supplier who took over the cows and milk production, and the supplier who packages and ships the cheese doesn’t really see why they should have to bother with the Cheese Integration Group at all. 

Anyway - the Cheese Integration Group were doing okay.  The Farmers knew that they had to play fair and we would get reports on Cheese Production on a regular basis.  The man from the Cheese Integration Group came out to see the Farmers with me and explained how things worked and the Farmers appreciated that.  

And then I met The Rare Beast.

One day I had my usual Cheese Integration Group meeting and in came a new creature, whom I had never encountered before.

‘Hello Mouse, I am The Rare Beast.’ said The Rare Beast, holding out a sharp clawed paw.

I opened my mouth to respond...

‘I am a Rare Beast.’ said The Rare Beast, ‘because I am very good at my job.  I have been a Cheese Producer and I have packaged Cheese and I know exactly how it works.  And I have been a Farmer too.  I am coming out to meet the Farmers with you and I will sort everything out because that is what I am good at.  I have been fixing things for over 100 years and there is not one experience I cannot resolve.  I am very well thought of Mouse.’

‘Oh I...’ said I, about to welcome him and tell him all about the problems we have had with the Cheese Production Process.

‘Look at my feet, Mouse.  Do  you see my feet?’  I look at The Rare Beast’s feet.  They are huge.

‘Do you know how I got big, magnificent feet like this, Mouse?  I got them by kicking people.  I am very good at kicking people.  I can kick Cheese Producers and I can kick Packing and Logistics people.  And I can kick cows.  Hard.’  I think this sounds very unfair and not really very nice, and I can’t help thinking, as he is looking at me with his yellow beast eyes, that he would probably enjoy kicking Miss Mouses around too.

And so I take The Rare Beast to meet the Farmers.  It is odd travelling with a Rare Beast and I am not quite sure what to talk about.  I tell The Rare Beast, as we buy a sandwich, that I am a vegetarian Mouse and I love Cheese.  ‘Yes,’ says The Rare Beast. ‘I know all about vegetarians.  I am a vegetarian also.  Except when I eat meat.’

I think he wants to add ‘and Mice.’

I explain that the Farmers are very cross as they have had no Cheese, their Farm Shop has now closed, and they have signed a contract with a Supermarket, to supply Cheese, but there is no Cheese forthcoming.  The milk producer keeps coming back with silly questions like ‘what number of spots must the cow producing the milk have?’ or ‘What level of creaminess must the milk have?’  Silly questions, designed to stall the process and give them more time (I suspect that they have not been looking after their cows very well and some have got fed up and gone to other farms, but they are not letting on).  The packaging and logistics supplier simply isn’t talking to the Cheese Integration Group as they don’t see why they have to.

The Rare Beast scares me.  But if he can scare the milk producers into producing milk, and the packing and logistics suppliers into packing the cheese and delivering it to the Supermarket, the farmers will be happy.  I prefer to work nicely with the suppliers, but the situation calls for drastic action.

The Rare Beast meets the Farmers, and proceeds to tell them that THEY MUST specify the level of creaminess of the milk, and the number of spots on the cow.  The Farmers become very upset and argue that they only ordered cheese, and how the Suppliers make the cheese is up to them.

I look at The Rare Beast and say ‘They are right, Rare Beast.  Please help us get what they ordered.  We shouldn’t have to do silly things...’

The Rare Beast fixes me with his yellow glare.  His sharp claws dig into his own wrist.  The Farmers leave, and I scoot out, but I am not quick enough.  The Rare Beast corners me.

‘Little Mouse.’ he says. ‘I am a RARE BEAST and I have been a RARE BEAST for many years.  I do not DO things.  I kick out with my giant shoes and make people sorry.  I will make the cows sorry.  I will make the packing people sorry.’

‘But you are making the Farmers sorry too.’ I say, ‘and the Farmers are paying our wages.’

The Rare Beast laughs.  ‘I think that you will find that the Farmers will do as I say.  And you, Mouse, will not get in the way of my kicking with my giant shoes.’

I glare at The Rare Beast and have a little think.  People with giant shoes, I think to myself, are bound to trip themselves up sooner or later.  Even Rare Beasts.

With an air of frost penetrating the warm, July day, The Rare Beast and I travel back to our respective homes, sharing some of the journey along the way.  The Rare Beast does make one attempt at small talk:

‘I do not do my job in order to make friends, Mouse.  I am The Rare Beast and I walk alone.  I do not need friends.’

Just as well, Rare Beast.  Just as well.

With curious anticipation,

Mouse xx

Midsummer Madness...

If there is one thing I have learned about The Miss Mooses since I've been working with them, and helping them with their supplies from the Fish Providers, it's that they like Summer.  They really, really like Summer.


In Sweden, where the Miss Mooses live, it is pretty dark for most of the Winter.  Actually the bit I go to in the South isn't too different to, say, Scotland (according to my friend Miss Haggis).  Anyway I happened to be there on the best night of all - the night of the Midsummer Party.


I was a bit of a last minute invite as the Miss Mooses didn't know I would be there on their Midsummer Party day, but as soon as they saw me, they invited me to come out and play.  We would walk through the park, they said.


What they didn't tell me is that the walk through the park would be no ordinary walk.  Those crazy Miss Mooses littered this walk with funny games.  Luckily there were some of my very favourite Miss Mooses to play those games with and much fun was had.


The first game involved popping balloons between ourselves.  Truly, balloons take more popping that one might imagine. Thank goodness for claws!


The second game involved standing in a silent line, in order of age.  There was much giggling and raising of eyebrows.  Surely that Miss Moose is older than me? I'm just a little Mouse!


The third game was the funniest of all for me.  I was handed, of all things, a jelly rat.  Yes. A rat. The objective of the game was to chew the rat and then spit it as far as possible.  Your team mate would then start from your chewed rat point and do the same.  Of course the jelly rat was nearly as big as me and I'm not really sure about putting one of so nearly my kind in my mouth.  Besides, I am a vegetarian Mouse and I KNOW what those jelly rats are made of.  But hey, Summer is summer, so I gave the rat a half hearted suck and spat it out as soon as and as far as I could.  It wasn't very far.


The final game involved eating biscuits and trying to whistle.  Sounds easy eh?  Try it.  


After the park games we went to a restaurant quite near to the harbour front.  Swedish Summer songs were sung and then, one of the Miss Mooses said 'we need a song from England.'  Squeak!  There was another Mr. Mouse from England so we quickly put our whiskers together and came up with a Master Plan.  Shortly afterwards the restaurant rang out with 40 Miss Mooses singing 'Baa Baa Blacksheep'.


I left quite late for a Mouse, about 11pm.  The party was still in full swing and many, many Mr and Miss Mooses - and the Mr. Mouse were dancing and making merry, but too late for this Mouse.  I left my lovely Miss Moose companions and scurried back to my Hotel.


I took a photo for you on the way out - look how light it was?  No wonder they love the MidSummer.


Glad Midsommer,


Mouse xxx

Flying by the seat of your pants...

As a travelling Mouse I have had many adventures involving the actual travel.  Especially on planes.  I have been re-directed, cancelled, delayed an on one occasion my flight was not even showing on the board - rescheduled by the Airline one week previously, and my booking agent, Expedimouse Travel, had not bothered to let me know.  They did divert me on that occasion, but I had to cancel a whole afternoon's worth of meetings with the Miss Mooses and they didn't take responsibility when I asked them to compensate me for the very expensive flight that I had booked - they blamed the airline and offered me a very small amount of money off if I booked a very expensive holiday with them - their way of saying sorry.  Well Miss Mouse does not need expensive holidays thank you very much.  


Anyway - this time the plane was on schedule and we were ushered into the lounge.  I sat near the ladies who do the tickets, as I like to watch the other passengers come in and play 'bagsy not sitting next to that one' with myself.  I had been sitting there for a while and I could hear the plane crew on the radio to the ticket lady.  


'Can you ask whoever is in seat 15a if they would mind moving please?'


I glanced at my own ticket - 18a.  Ooh I wondered why?? perhaps they needed to get someone else in there especially - maybe a Ms. Cat was travelling with her kitten for the first time and they needed to sit together.  This would be interesting - and I would be near enough to see.


The ticket lady put a call out - for a man-in-a-suit who was in seat 15a - but he didn't come.  I would never find out what the drama was.


So I got on my plane - I was nearly the last on - perhaps because I am the smallest and have small legs, or perhaps because I was updating Twitter and daydreaming about cheese.  On the way in I passed the man-in-a-suit from seat 15a - who was being ushered into a new seat - no - row - all to himself, whilst the rest of the plane remained cramped.  Anyway I got to my seat and the big man next to me made a fuss about having to get out to let me in.  I was secretly pleased because the previous passenger had left an airline blanket on my seat.  You don't often get airline blankets unless you are in the PREMIUM seats at the front of the plane, which are exactly the same as the regular seats but cost four times as much and come with a cardboard meal.


I tried to look over at seat 15a to see who had caused the fuss but I couldn't see anybody.  I'm only little as I may have just mentioned.


Big man next to me was playing important games on his iPad, elbows too-ing and fro-ing rather too near to my whiskers for comfort, so I decided to make the most of my free blanket and snuggle up to sleep.  I pulled it out from under me and made a pillow.  Lovely.


I woke up a couple of hours later, as the plane was landing.  The first thing I noticed is that I didn't feel quite right.  Something about my fur.  It was a bit, well, warm, where I was sitting.


The plane emptied and as I shuffled over to jump down, I felt my, er... derriere with my paw.  It was damp.


I looked at where I had been sitting.  A foreboding wet patch right in the middle.  Now I know it wasn't me.  I am a well trained Mouse and a lady as well.  I considered the kind of spillage that could end up directly in the middle of the seat.  And thought about how many unhappy small children I have seen travelling on planes.


I didn't like the way those two thoughts mixed.


I politely mentioned this to the nice yellow haired lady with lipstick who had been bringing the coffees and modelling life vests and her face went funny.


'Oh.' she said. 'Perhaps the cleaners did not mean 15a.  Perhaps they meant 18a.'


I asked her what the liquid might have been.


'Um.  Water.  Yes.  Water.' she replied, going a funny colour.


She was very apologetic and offered me a cleaning voucher.  I politely declined as, well, fur doesn't really come off, and I didn't want to be battered around inside an industrial cleaner.


'Please forgive us,' she said.  'It was a mistake.  Human error.'


It was this last phrase that saved the day.  Humans can make errors too?  I know Miss Mouses can, and Miss Mooses, but this nice lady was very sorry.


I smiled at her and said goodbye, slid down the bannister of the plane (you try doing those big steps with 2 inch legs), and scuttled off straight to the washroom for a thorough scrub down.


I shall, in future, be checking underneath any blankets before snuggling up.


Yours carefully,


Mouse xxx