There's never a good time for your toddler to go into full-blown tantrum mode, but I'd argue there are better times than when you're on the phone thrashing out the final details of a client presentation for 8:30 the next morning. Of course, you might ask what any sane mother of two is doing arranging breakfast meetings, but if the client really wants to plan their training strategy over a plate of croissants, we'll be there, rubbing the sleep out of our eyes and trying to keep the apricot jam off the handouts.
Unless, of course, we haven't got our ducks in a row because a certain colleague (Maia, 3 years 2-and-a-half months and counting) has decided the previous afternoon would be the moment to express her dissatisfaction with life, the universe and everything. 'Just wait a minute, darling, I'm on the phone' are words, I've come to realise, that are about as calming to a pre-schooler as a flourished cape to a Spanish bull. And despite my best maternal/matadorial efforts, I was soon forced to abandon all hope of victory and sprint for the barrier.
Andy, my business partner, was understanding as always, but couldn't help sounding less than enthusiastic when I phoned him back at 10 o'clock to resume discussions. 'Fresh as a daisy' would not be the most accurate characterisation of our demeanour when we rolled up at the client's a few short hours later, though we did somehow manage to get through the pitch without actually dropping off. I'm not sure I can say the same for their head of HR, but he who lives by the breakfast meeting dies by the breakfast meeting, quite frankly.
Near-continuous telephone usage has been the norm between Andy and me since we switched to VoIP. I still remember the way my parents used to frown and fidget if I stayed on the line more than the allotted five minutes, but when it's free, you tend to swing the opposite way. I feel positively obliged to stay on indefinitely - getting my money's worth, as my dad would say. No more 'I'll call you back when I find that file' - much better to leave a hapless coworker, or indeed one of our VoIP-equipped clients (there's nothing like finding a fellow VoIP enthusiast to create an instant bond), listening to me rummage through the stack of half-crushed Economy Archive Boxes that passes for my filing system.
Unfortunately, while noise-cancelling microphones do a fair job on the occasional Stansted-bound 737, they're no match for the lungs of a tot. There've been more and more occasions when we've had to revert to email, and while I'm an unashamed Outlook fan with the inbox to prove it (18,219 unread messages, it says here), I can't deny there's a certain lack of immediacy. The worst part is that if your recipient doesn't fancy answering, they don't even have to hit the busy signal (like that ever fooled anyone), they can just ignore you.
So after this latest Maia fiasco, I finally succumbed to that Windows Live Messenger icon that's been lurking in the corner of the screen, and joined the online chat generation. I'm now convinced that instant messaging is the ultimate form of business communication. You can see if the other person is there before you start, which is even better than the phone, and everything happens in real time, so there's no waiting around wondering if they're going to reply. Best of all, whatever background noise you have to put up with at your end, you know your contact is blissfully unaware of it. In cyberspace, no-one can hear you scream.
These last few weeks, I've not only converted Andy to the joys of IM, I've already found a surprising number of clients willing to swap MSN addresses. In some ways it's disconcertingly informal, but compared to grabbing the phone breathless after hurling myself downstairs, it actually feels more professional.
What I wasn't quite prepared for was arriving at my desk this morning to find a certain young man already logged in. Lucas, Maia's older brother, knows the hour before school is the best time to borrow my workstation for a Club Penguin session. Today, though, he'd found a new toy, and in a window bearing the Hotmail address of a certain early-rising HR manager, Lucas was conducting a lengthy discussion on the merits of the new Indiana Jones film. Our client seemed to be participating gamely, but I can only guess what he thought of the training company director IM-ing him before breakfast to enquire, 'Do you like Indy now he is a grandad?'
'SME: Single mum enterprise' will appear in every second issue of Fusion.