Planning events is always fun. Hard work, long hours and usually cause for consumption of more than one headache pill, but still, fun.
Except this time. Mr. Big Fat Rich Racing Stables Owner, who is the host of the event is, quite plainly, a Big Fat Mico Manager Pain in the Backend. He's wanting to oversee every little angle of the planning process and then looks over and double checks every decision that we make. Most tiresome really, and things take twice as long to get done now that everything (and I DO mean everything) MUST be run by Mr. Anally Obsessive.
Take for example, the seating plan. Always an ardours task since every single guest wishes to have a "good" table, as close to the dance floor as possible. Still, at the last ball, C and I managed to get it done without too much of a fuss. And I'd like to point out that everyone at the ball was quite pleased with their tables!
This time around, Fussy Pants made about a hundred changes to the plan not taking into consideration that the room can only hold so many over sized tables around the dance floor. Apparently, having waiters move around the room was an unnecessary inconvenience. Finally, after much deliberation he came back to us with the table plan yesterday and I got down to making up the lists for the volunteers and deciding who was to host at which table etc. It took me most of the afternoon, but I finally got the volunteer instructions and packages together - all 17 of them!
And then, on the way home I get a call from C and she tells me that Mr. Annoying-as-Hell has decided that he wasn't totally happy with the seating plan and that he was going to have another look at it.
That's when I started to look around for the shotgun. IMPOSSIBLE man!