My old mother has been annoyed by it for years: the funeral junkie. You don't know him? Just wait until fate strikes multiple times in your circle. The funeral junkie is more often male than female, sometimes comes in groups and exists in every social biotope. The distant uncle, the vague cousin, the acquaintance from primary school and β although he has long since moved away β the neighbours of friends; the funeral junkie never misses a goodbye. It could of course be that the coffee, the cake and the conviviality are the motivation of the funeral enthusiast, as my mother thinks. But I myself suspect that the junkie simply has nothing better to do. In any case; I agree with my mother: the funeral junkie should be ashamed.
Then I suddenly saw myself standing there. I was at the umpteenth HappyHaringHapHour. Jan was there too, and Hendrik Jan. Hermien, coach since 2010, arrived a bit later. I shook hands with Freek, the organizer of this fish festival. I took a glass, looked around me and thought with a shock; we are all network junkies.
I didn't go home, because the herring was tasty, the Chardonnay went down well and I was on my bike. Besides, I really like Jan, Hendrik Jan, Freek and Hermien. But I have better things to do. In those three 'net-working' hours I could have really worked. I could have drawn up two quotes and an invoice, made a few business phone calls, updated my administration and written a newsletter. Instead, this blog appears. The network junkie should be ashamed. Let us be careful not to waste valuable commercial hours, to our shame. The economy is real. That's why we really have to work. Boycott the bitterbal.