A Fail? A Matter of Perspectives.
Good morning, Internet. It is 10:00am. And I am still here…I was not asked to leave, and there was no spontaneous internal human combustion. One could say that is a win, as I get two weeks of money without worry. One could also say it’s a fail, because I am still in my own personal Conradian heart of darkness.
It’s just me, non-boss, and two interns. There’s a couple other interns at Sotheby’s watching the Frank Gehry Emeco chaise lounge catastrophe sell for more than my current salary. There’s a sub-boss tending to the swine flu of his children. And there’s a couple lemmings in Chicago who will not bring me back a churro or a pierogi.
And big boss? She must’ve set her alarm extra early to do her full mind, body, spirit cleanse of venom, yeast, and the evil that is me leaving them and breaking agreements and shattering the space-time continuum to allow a Doom-style rift in the very fabric of the universe that has opened a portal to hell (or Diablo, for the RPG nerds). Because she called me this morning asking for a rundown of all the things left to do that need writing. She then demanded that I have them “in a good place” by the end of the day.
What does it all mean? Why the rush? Is this an attempt at punishment without power? Is she trying to rush me out the door? Will I ever even begin to care?
I did not bring an umbrella to work, but I am wearing a shirt with umbrellas on it. I thought you should know that.
