‘I think at least 40,’ I said.

‘Is that 40 skills including endorsements? Or are endorsements on top?’ the Managing Director questioned, peering up from his score pad. ‘Endorsements are always separate,’ I replied, suddenly doubting the ability of the Managing Director to keep score effectively. We were playing the office’s new most popular pastime, otherwise known as the profile LinkedIn game.

The game started when it was discovered that the office intranet had a feature that generated a random profile of a company worker from any company office anywhere in the world. From the photo you had to guess how many skills, endorsements and contacts that person had when cross-referenced to LinkedIn.

What began as an amusing lunchtime pursuit had become a severe drain on productivity. So it was fortunate that the most enthusiastic player was the MD.

‘Random generator… go!’ It was my turn and I had to say the traditional lucky words before pressing the button. When I started work I would have felt stupid saying the words out loud. Now, over 15 years into my career, it felt entirely sensible.

I spotted the ultimate skill. ‘Prepared policy and guidance document for company vocal health management guide for employees who use their voice for long periods of time to proactively manage vocal health issues preventing harm and injury of a vocal nature.’ 

An unlucky random generation would produce an IT worker in a scruffy T-shirt surprised by his profile picture. These people tended not to bother with LinkedIn, relying on alternative forums not accessed by accountants. Anyway these profiles generated a low score and were highly unpopular among players.

Much better were the people who had submitted their own profile pictures, often of professional studio quality and in black and white. This sort of person addressed the camera with a friendly, confident face coupled with underlying tones of seriousness. These people tended to work in the disciplines of HR, marketing and occasionally a rogue, ambitious accountant would slip in.

The button was pressed and I had struck ‘profile LinkedIn game’ pay dirt. A UK profile of someone I knew. A man who took his job in the health and safety advisory department extremely seriously; 500+ connections, 47 separately identified skills and 58 endorsements from professionals in the health and safety community, zero from other disciplines. 

Then I spotted the ultimate skill. ‘Prepared policy and guidance document for company vocal health management guide for employees who use their voice for long periods of time to proactively manage vocal health issues preventing harm and injury of a vocal nature.’

After that profile the game rather died. If someone can sell vocal health management as a skill and have it endorsed, without irony, the world of work is truly beyond satire.

Not so happy Valley

As you read this, the latest gritty BBC cop drama Happy Valley will be reaching its no doubt hard-hitting conclusion. Hailed as this year’s Broadchurch, the six-part series manages to put your average Scandinavian noir drama in the shade with a liberal dose of drugs, violence, kidnapping and copper killing. But readers should remember that it was the hapless company accountant, who had had his demands for a modest pay rise cruelly rejected, that set in train the whole series of grisly events. Not the best way to boost your salary, but worth remembering the next time the accounts clerk knocks on your door.

Where’s my lunch?

Two days of manning the stand at Accountex at Excel had its moments. Perhaps the highlight was the curious visitor who installed herself on the stand, raved for a while and then, having wolfed down sweets and scooped up pens, literally strode off with someone’s lunch, saying: ‘Oh, that must be mine.’ I didn’t know expenses were quite so tight at the firms.

Taking the biscuit

You would have thought that politicians would have realised that VAT is not easy. But the message hasn’t got through to the communications bods at Labour HQ. In the run-up to the euro elections, the party ran a poster campaign showing how the government’s VAT policies were devastating household budgets (as Ed Miliband knows only too well with his ‘£80-a-week’ shopping bill). But Baker Tilly’s taxman George Bull counted no less than 17 zero-rated items out of the 25 on display. That includes chocolate chip biscuits, which as everyone knows are VAT-free, unlike their cousins, chocolate-covered biscuits, which suffer the full rate.