After yesterday’s childish brouhaha, I was treated to my computer blowing up. Yes, as in *poof* — goodbye data. Two and a half hours later with the Disk Doctor, and I’m running fairly well, although slowly. And after THAT, it took three hours to print the proof of the paper. I almost took the fucking disk to Kinko’s, that’s how frustrated I was.
But, as always, we had the usual suspects together in my office, laughing and bullshitting while the computer and printer decided to go berserk, and so it was a bearable — if not, dare I say, enjoyable — afternoon.
Today, I’m in hiding in my office. I have major edits to do, and I’m not in the least bit of a mood to deal with anyone other than my staff writer.
Talked with Shan last night. She graciously made contact with someone at the Veggie Patch who had requested her help on a few issues. The conversation didn’t sound too pleasant, but Shan remains unruffled. After she heard about MY day, we just kind of collectively shook our heads and said how typical our experiences with our colleagues was. But she was, like me, disappointed that the CFO went so apeshit on me — he was our hero around here. Oh well. Time to get some new heroes. 🙂
I didn’t sleep a wink last night — my mind was racing. Shawn and Tiff both recommend that I just let the chips fall where they may, and they’re right. The big companies that we owe money to, well, they’ll survive without our money arriving on time, and if they choose to no longer do business with us, that’s the breaks. I’m sure they’ll be patient, because of the great relationships I’ve cultivated with them, but they won’t keep doing me personal favors. But it’s the freelancers who are not getting paid who concern me. It’s the people who are depending on their meager checks to pay their rent and feed their kids and buy smokey treats (heh — you know who you are!) for whom I am fighting.
I made it known today that all the bullshit has broken my heart. I articulated that I can’t believe how easily we forget that we are all on the same team. That ripping e-mail from the CFO — which basically said that I need to quit insinuating that his staff makes mistakes, because he can certainly mention a tally of mistakes that have been made in my department — really did a number on my morale. I said once again that I came back (early, mind you) from my recovery because I cared about the paper, and it’s just a shame that so few others give a shit about it or the people who make it possible.
It’s funny — at my former job (Two Strikes), I was striken with anxiety because EVERYTHING was a priority. I was always running, always jumping, always juggling a thousand things at once, because NOTHING was to be put on the back burner. Here at the Veggie Patch, it seems like everything is on hold — everything will happen in due time. Granted, at least in the fiscal arena, it’s because there’s only so much money, and it’s not enough to cover expenses by a long shot. But overall, it just feels like NOTHING is a priority. Will I EVER find a place to work where there is a balance? Where my spirits won’t be stuck to the bottom of somebody’s shoes at the end of the workday?