Cycling through the City of London to work on a dark morning last week, I was overtaken by a man in a black coat with no helmet, no lights, and listening to music through headphones.
Idiot, I thought. As he disappeared into the underground parking of a large bank, I wondered: what sort of banker does a man like that make? Either he is boneheaded in his assessment of risk – or he wants to die. Both are unfortunate traits in someone who handles someone else’s money.
He got me thinking about the things we reveal about ourselves when we are on two wheels, and how useful that data could be to our bosses.
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