Song of the Day: "Can You Hear Me Running" by Mike + The Mechanics
I've just discovered that I will be asked, via voicemail, for the fifth consecutive weekend, to spend my days off quite literally living in my office so that a 550 page catalog can go to press two weeks early. When it isn't ready. Not by a long shot.
The CEO of this fine organization has bought himself a woman (imported, not domestic) and intends to spend as much time with it as he can. Bully for him.
Yet the net loss is not his time but mine, as I will spend roughly 30 hours over Saturday and Sunday trapped in a windowless hell attempting to proofread Spanish translations (and I am monolingual), take digital photographs (using technology that would make George Eastman disgusted) and fighting the urge (unsuccessfully) to make everyone else conned into coming in as miserable as I will be.
Sadly, the whole "life, libery and property" thing promised to me by our Founding Fathers and the Englightenment philosophers apparently doesn't apply to Marketing Communication Gods like myself.
Woe is me.
Maybe I'll just make long distance calls all weekend on the company dime. Or go randomly rearrange the files in the Credit Department. Or drive the floor sweeper machine around the warehouse recklessly.
Or, most likely I'll be spending the time shackled to my Windows 98SE supercomputer trying to keep Adobe Pagemaker from crashing, still trying to sublimate my aesthetic sensibilities over this trainwreck of a catalog and ask myself:
WWJD ... What Would Joe Do?
The magic of that statement shall set me free. After 30 hours. With no television. Or hot food. Or sleep. After I realize that "Joe" would likely be doing the same thing, and thereby coming to grips with what could well be latent MPD, I'll be fine. And maybe I'll splurge and have a smoothie.
Sigh ...
The CEO of this fine organization has bought himself a woman (imported, not domestic) and intends to spend as much time with it as he can. Bully for him.
Yet the net loss is not his time but mine, as I will spend roughly 30 hours over Saturday and Sunday trapped in a windowless hell attempting to proofread Spanish translations (and I am monolingual), take digital photographs (using technology that would make George Eastman disgusted) and fighting the urge (unsuccessfully) to make everyone else conned into coming in as miserable as I will be.
Sadly, the whole "life, libery and property" thing promised to me by our Founding Fathers and the Englightenment philosophers apparently doesn't apply to Marketing Communication Gods like myself.
Woe is me.
Maybe I'll just make long distance calls all weekend on the company dime. Or go randomly rearrange the files in the Credit Department. Or drive the floor sweeper machine around the warehouse recklessly.
Or, most likely I'll be spending the time shackled to my Windows 98SE supercomputer trying to keep Adobe Pagemaker from crashing, still trying to sublimate my aesthetic sensibilities over this trainwreck of a catalog and ask myself:
WWJD ... What Would Joe Do?
The magic of that statement shall set me free. After 30 hours. With no television. Or hot food. Or sleep. After I realize that "Joe" would likely be doing the same thing, and thereby coming to grips with what could well be latent MPD, I'll be fine. And maybe I'll splurge and have a smoothie.
Sigh ...
posted by Joe at 4:44 PM
2 Comments:
Thanks for the earworm. Way to share the misery.
I'm sorry to read that your weekend is shot. Is there an end in sight? Can you possibly escape next weekend?
If so, we should hang out.
If not, I vote we get together at your office and smash stuff. You know I'm supportive like that.
Don't worry ... each new post will have a new song of the day. Good times.
Next weekend ... if I can complete the alphabetic and numeric index system by midweek it looks good. If not, they'll bury my lifeless body by my PC.
Not good times.
I want cheap Chinese food. Badly.
must ...
need ...
comfort ...
crap ...
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