Oh, holy fuck. It’s five thirty in the evening now; here was my day so far:
11am: Five minutes late for my first meeting — mostly because I was finishing the entry above. (If it smells like burning karma in here, folks, that’s probably because it is.)
First meeting ran twenty minutes late, making me…
11:50am: …twenty minutes late for my second meeting. With my boss. To go over my employee review. Dang. I’ll have a bite of that karma toast now, thanks.
Second meeting ran thirty minutes late (or only ten, if you factor in the tardy start), making me…
12:30pm: …thirty minutes late for my third meeting. (Do you see a pattern here?)
This meeting also ran thirty minutes late, which would have put me just on time for the fourth meeting of the day. But dammit, by that point I needed some lunch — or technically, ‘breakfast’ — so I slipped off for a sandwich, making me…
1:50pm: …twenty minutes late for my fourth meeting. Which was almost as exciting as the third meeting. Which in turn was almost as exciting as a cardboard enema. And nearly as painful. On the way out, I had this conversation:
Him: Man, you look dead. Sorry the meeting was so bad.
Me: Dude, that’s not even the worst meeting I’ve had today.
Him: Holy christ — somebody get that man some booze!
The good news is that the fourth meeting didn’t run late. Officially. Of course, the bad news is that half that meeting spilled over into my office, to suck what little precious time I would have had until…
3pm: …the fifth meeting, which lasted well over two hours, and just spat me out, quivering and twitching, back here at my desk.
Six and a half hours of solid meetings, people. That’s fucking harsh. The Inquisitors didn’t go that far, man — they’d put you through, like, five hours and then go:
‘Damn. Let him go, poor bastard. Heretic or not, mother fucker’s suffered enough.‘
But the bullshit’s almost over. I’ve just got to send two emails, pick up a printout, look up a few numbers in a database, have a quick conversation (and I’ll be bent over and broomhandled before I call it another ‘meeting’ today!), and I’m home, sweet home. I just try not to think of the
four five things that went onto my ‘to-do list’ because of all this tomfoolery, and the zero no, that was right: zero things I managed to cross off today. Calgon, take me away!
No, scratch that — my buddy was right. This is a job for sweet, beautiful booze. And in just a few minutes, I’m all over it. Raise a glass for me, folks — it’s goddamned Miller time. Only with good beer. You know what I’m sayin’. Word.Permalink | 7 Comments