Many moons ago, the powers that be (RAO) decreed that his AGC Det was looking a bit ragged around the edges after their recent Docs Inspection, so decided to take them all on a Team Building couple of days - far away from camp - so that they could relax and let their tensions go free. You know, get to know each other again instead of screaming and shouting at each other for f*ck ups that blatantly weren't their fault.
So, our little daredevil decides to take them all surfing. "Cool" thought the gang. It's September, surely he'll find somewhere indoor, heated, nice little cafe, nice accommodation, few beers in the hotel bar - nice one Sir.
"Come on, everyone. Get on the minibus, we're off".
"Where are we going, Sir?"
"Scarborough. We'll be stopping in the Transit Accommodation in Ripon".
Deep joy. Surfing. In Scarborough. In September.
Anyhoo. Gets to Ripon. Settles in to Nissan Hut type thing on the top of a hill then down to Ripon for a few sociables. Going well so far.
Next day - wake to a normal North Yorkshire morning. Fog, sleet, rain, cloudy - you get the picture. Off to Scarborough. Road closures everywhere, so we ended up going the scenic route through Topcliffe (!) and eventually arrive at the beautiful seaside resort where the sea is as flat as a pancake. The only tourists are wearing their bestest winter woollies and our intrepid team are getting changed into wetsuits, sans changing rooms, on the promenade. No words needed to be spoken as I looked at my bezzer Sarah and we shook our heads in the international well known style that means "This is not going to end well".
A quick warm up on the beach. Playing volleyball. F*cking volleyball. In the rain. In Scarborough. In September. Mr and Mrs Miggins, wrapped up like a pair of eskimos, laughing their t*ts off from the prom at the stupid Army people. It wasn't embarrassing at all.
Into the sea. By now, we were already at the early stages of hypothermia, but if the Boss wants us to have fun, who are we to complain? Lots of lying down on the surfboard and moving your arms about and mouthing "This is shit" to whoever knocked into you because we didn't have a clue what we were doing.
Lunchtime. Off with the wetsuits which was not an easy job anyway, on with as many items of clothing we could find and off for a well deserved brew and a sarnie in the cafe. We must be going back soon, it's gibbering. Ohhhh no. That was not the plan.
"The CO and RSM will be here at 1400hrs and they're keen to have a little fun (!) competition, so wetsuits back on".
I have never felt more demoralised in my whole life. I was even considering throwing myself off the prom onto the rocks so I didn't have to put that effing wetsuit back on and get into the water again, but I stayed strong. The fun bit of the game was to "surf" out to the PTI, who really did shout "Twice around my beautiful body, GO", but by this stage, I'd had enough. The water was only about waist high anyway so I just grabbed the rope thingy at the end of the surfboard and dragged it out there. And back again. "Oh come on, it's meant to be fun - you're meant to be having a good time". "F*ck off". Then we had to sit through the "heats" of the competition and watch as the CO and RSM stood up on their surfboards and made use of the ripples in the sea that were probably made by a jellyfish doing a trump.
At last, it was over, peeled off the wetsuits again, and back to Ripon for a 17 second shower and off to some random pub for a big group hug and pats on the back. I'd lost my sense of humour somewhere around the time we'd left the A1(M) anyway, so I was my normal bundle of laughs. "Did you have a good...?" "No", "Wasn't that grea...?" "No". "Would you do that aga.....?" "No"
I was actually pleased to get back to Waterbeach the next day, and I never ever thought I would say that.
Now, the time we went "Team Building" in Chilwell is another story, but I've probably bored you enough already, so I'll save that one.
https://www.arrse.co.uk/community/t...n-team-bonding-experience.226351/post-6258705