Which prominent West Aucklander drives to Auckland Airport, parks his car, forgets it's there when he gets back, taxis into town, and then has to retrace his steps the next day to retrieve his vehicle? Our lips are sealed.
All we can say is that the self-same person rang his fair wife on his next return to Auckland, proud as punch to have completed another important trip, before she inquired of him why he was returning to town in a cab. He had once more overlooked the family wheels, parked and ready to ferry, back at the airport.
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What is about journalists, annual meetings, and refreshments? A company should be aware of the PR ramifications of a sparse spread, we feel. Case in point: poor, neglected investors and media would have been left to starve at the recent Waltus special meeting at Wellington's WestpacTrust Stadium, had they not protested, according to Biz's woman on the spot.
When it came to lunchtime in the middle of the eight-hour ordeal, Waltus staff headed off to their new corporate box for a flash nosh-up, leaving the stragglers on the other side of the stadium. They asked when lunch was to be brought, only to be told that the non-Waltus contingent would need to go into Wellington to get their own sustenance.
Thankfully, a kind-hearted Waltus employee - that's not an oxymoron, evidently - took pity on the stranded and duly wheeled out a plate of sandwiches.
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Poke your nose into the top floor at Parnell's VBG or Hammerheads of a Friday lunchtime and you may see Rodney "perk-buster" Hyde and business cronies in full flight over several expensive bottles of wine. Apparently, members of the $50 million, Hamilton-based Vela family also helicopter up for the infamous luncheons on occasion.
The group's got approximately 26 months to the next election, which would be, what ... one "disgraced" Coalition member's downfall a week?
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As dusk fell on Sir David Beattie's 13-year tenure as chairman of the Meat Industry Association, the sometimes bumptious, often humorous ex-G-G revealed a still-sharp wit.
At a dinner in his honour, one well-watered gent greeted him with: "So, you're called Sir Dated now."
Sir David, taking one look at the man's ample girth replied: "And you must be Sir Cumference."
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McDonald's workers at Sydney's Olympic Village have been told, in no uncertain terms, to avoid offering a side order of blather along with fries and burgers to famous athletes.
It seems unlikely McDonald's would be the food of choice for training athletes, but in any case, "certainly, coming right up" is absolutely the only conversational input allowed from the chain's lowly workers bees.
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