It’s incredible what they’ve pulled off. Often at the end of the day I’m moaning into my blog, but actually this is wonderful insanity and it works much better than it should.
When I first realised that the whole of central Paris was going to be the Olympic Park I immediately worried that everything would be gridlock forever, but the judicious use of road closures and an overenthusiastic police force has actually led to things being possible despite throwing up problems for the likes of me. It’s fucking amazing what they have achieved. Literally incredible, but somehow by execution it can be believed. We threw our Olympics to Stratford. They just went and plonked it in all the central places. Scattered around this town in apartments and hotel rooms there are hundreds of people who barely if ever sleep because of this decision. Some of them ping around all over the place, others are more static. It’s normal for an event, no sleep. It’s the opposite of a toxic work culture though, as there’s a huge thread of positivity running through these bonkers sleepless teams.
These games are happening all around, built into temporary structures that complement and are augmented by the landmarks. I’m glad to be a weird cog in a machine like this. I’ve really come to know this town in a way I will never be able to duplicate. My routes are largely based on getting inside the police cordon and then going the wrong way down bus lanes waved on by smiling cops. Then I park up right next to the venue, between two police cars. And largely I walk in.
Today though, the clown show came to the accredited entrance. 4 long pieces of metal. Two humans on foot, both with Tools of the Trade stickers and full accreditation. But we were at INV. The beating heart of the clown show. Good Christ. What a bunch of absolute total idiots. One man in particular.
There were 4 people in the team we first met, and three of them with yellow hi-vis were happy to make no fuss. We had everything in order as always. But the man with no neck, first man we met at the gate, in his special red hi-vis… he wanted to obstruct. Oh god he desperately wanted it. His team were trying to overrule him, but he went with it anyway. He just wanted to block to block to block. So empty of thought. So stubborn. So French. This neckless man.
“He has TOT, it’s fine, he’s safe, it’s just metal,” tries the lady manning the xray. But Count no-neck … I guess in this country it gives him a superpower as he is guillotine proof. He can be as unreasonable as he likes. Still, he pushed the boundaries of unreasonable. Gold medal for France in stupid.
The metal we had could have put through the xray. I’ve put bigger things through, even in ALX. It could have gone round the side. Frankly we could have gone off record and slid it under some heras, then gone through security and picked it up, and no neck would have been playing candy crush.
I chose to try and go through officially knowing there should have been no obstruction. But again again again, just one idiot. And now one person has said no, everyone catches the no and once again I’m a terrorist. They were behaving as if a portable metal frame was deadly. I have an accreditation that means I can bring fucking weapons with me. Still he wouldn’t let me in with a few bits of metal. Idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot. I’m writing all of this not using copy paste. idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot. My food has arrived. idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot. The man is an idiot. idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot. moron moron moron moron moron. idiot is faster to write. idiot idiot idiot. Man. Why would anyone anywhere give a man like this any form of power over anything? idiot
And so it escalated to P24 venue bosses, who are supposed to be able to sort this shit out. They’re the security company apparently. But the ones we meet don’t have a clue what it’s like on the ground, so with no fucking knowledge they use their own frame of reference to determine importance and I dunno because they are doing some sort of filming on the site and an athlete might be there, we can’t bring in a portable metal frame that Ffion spent ages painting this morning and that is needed to stop people walking into holes and can’t be delivered in whatever their fucking tiny van window is because there’s only one of me and, believe it or not, I have to sleep at some point and there’s plenty to do in the day as well as the night.
I tell him I’m carrying signs and I can tell he thinks that’s pointless. He’s putting his own subjective appraisal of relative importance ahead of actually just doing his job. Signs aren’t important, eh? On a massive public event, signs aren’t important… I want to make one that points at feckless neckless at INV and just says “idiot”. I’ll put it up myself. He doesn’t look like he moves much so it’ll likely be pretty accurate.
Eventually some unwilling staff from P24 show up. “Someone took in a tent the other night,” one of them says. (that was me). “This is the last time we help you.” “I fucking hope it isn’t mate, because if you obstruct us just because of your personal priority list or because a lumpish neckless idiot at your gate doesn’t like English people, then you’re obstructing the whole games. We are all pushing in the same direction here.” Also the tent the other night was a safety feature for a massive propane burner that I had got through there half an hour previously without the correct seals. The guys who are pretending to help me start fixating on the tent having come in at weird hours a week ago like it’s justification for their useless idiot at the gate being obstructive for no reason. Let’s overlook the explosive tank and burner they allowed me to drive in with a van where the paperwork wasn’t perfect.
New kings of the clowns, with the neckless man in red hi Vis lumped at the front, clueless and unfit and malicious and dumb.
An hour later, I met the ringmaster of the whole circus. Olivier. Nice to finally see the man with the whip. You might expect someone prone to accidentally tripping over, but actually he seemed reasonably well balanced and I heard no trombone while I was with him. I actually rather liked him. Damn. But … nobody can be totally on top of all the personalities involved when building a team, so I’m not particularly angry with him for having just opened a bag of potatoes for staff. But captain neckless couldn’t be overruled by his own team at INV. They all said “it’s fine, he has a TOT and a pass” but he was being the big man and he just wanted to obstruct. It was absurd, to the extent that I reckon I could have suggested to Olivier that he just fucking needs to be sent home. I didn’t. I wouldn’t. But … he does. He really does.
Just because I’m carrying things you can’t understand doesn’t mean I need to be prevented from doing my job. I’ve taken to using the pedestrian gates because the van gates are too buttoned up and full of the likes of no-neck fecklessmech. If the pedestrian gates start getting as obstructive as the van gates, I’m fucked. But my cargo could easily have been xrayed today. I honestly can’t understand what was happening with him. He wouldn’t put it through the xray. He just wanted to be an arse. I shook his hand when I left and tried to bury the hatchet, but that was just tactics for next time because I know you can’t fight stupid.
And then I sat with his CEO and we spoke about how incredible it has been to build these games into this town like this. They’ve achieved what I thought would be impossible. With sheer force of will and manpower, these games have gone ahead here in the heart of Paris. With incredible stadiums like the one at Champs de Mars, that blend with landmarks. It’s impossible, but they’ve done it. And I expect my work to be tricky, frankly, because I’m low status but high access. I need to go where the stuff is needed, and it can’t be predicted and nobody else is gonna do it in time. Every major event needs my role, sometimes in multiples.
It’s always nice to be flattered on your french, and I can’t read tone and nuance yet, but the CEO and I were cordial and I found him pretty relatable. He wants to come to the warehouse, which I don’t want. But I’ll just remain a point of contact for him. I tried to stash my fistful of upgrades when he got in the van. But actually he probably needs to know that this system they’ve all created is too obstructive. I am working for the event. His potatoes are working for the event.
As I left I tried to give the man with no neck a pep talk at INV, with his team, along these lines. “Maybe we all need to learn how to help each other, those of us who are clearly part of these games.”
I’m glad I didn’t tell the CEO he’s trying to build a house of cards with potatoes. I’m glad he was relatable. But Jesus fucking Christ on a bike who the fuck made it so fucking complicated for everyone? Or is it just for Doublet Wasserman? Like the batshit crazy plain clothes cop at BCY the other day moving me on who told me when I pointed at a great big artic unloading next to me “They are unloading useful things for disabled people!” Maybe I should lie. Or maybe P24 should get their head out of their own bum.
AlBarclay 