Jeezus.
Left work after 3 a.m. last night. I have HAD it with our fucked-up computer. HAD IT!!! It’s pretty bad when I have to have my designer come in and bring his fucking computer in so I can make PDFs to FTP to the print shop.
I had to be at work this morning for a meeting, and afterward, I pulled in the CEO and my boss and went apeshit. I said I’m fucking tired of talking and nothing is being done to make my life easier. Not to mention, but I had to re-do the front page to include breaking news (Queen of the Underworld was elected president for next year. Fucking kill me — she’s got an ego the size of Russia, and she has a bug up her ass where I am concerned). This information is embargoed until tomorrow, but fuck it. Hell will start freezing over shortly — grab yer sweaters!
Anyway, I enjoyed blowing a head gasket. It’s like having a goddamn orgasm — I feel like I can conquer the world now (because I’ve had a veritable shitload of caffeine to keep me awake to this point, too, I suppose). I got them to commit to fixing this situation post haste. And don’t think I wasn’t on the phone immediately, taking care of the next steps to get them to spend the lousy five grand to upgrade our systems. I told the CEO that I am going to hold him to every word he said, and either he’s terrified or amused by me at this point. I’m not sure. I told them that I’d be in an insane asylum if it weren’t for my designer continually giving up his free time to save our asses month after month. And I said that if any of us (including Angie, who is a real trouper and stuck it out till the bitter end with us) had kids, this shit and the crazy hours we are required to work, they’d never get their fucking newspaper. I’m tired of killing myself and only getting rewarded with furlough days.
I had theorized (with my friends, not my superiors) that they always shoot down my ideas because I can never get the paper stabilized, and my boss actually said that out loud today. She said that once I iron out the problems with the paper, maybe I can do some of the side projects I keep proposing. I said that pissed me off to no end, because I propose till I’m blue in the face ways to save time and money so that I can do my job more efficiently, but when they can’t accommodate my basic requests, they’re wasting oodles of talent and experience that might be able to help them reverse the trend of losing 1,000 members each month, and that all my ideas ultimately justify my job by showing that the newspaper isn’t just the only benefit they get by buying a membership.
Oooh, the tangents I can start.
In any event, if you’re reading this, Scot, you’ve saved our lives. Again. And we don’t pay you enough. Don’t quit on us till they quit on us completely, mmm kay?
After I got done with work today, I went over to Boothe Park (my favorite) and swung on the swingsets till I was dizzy and delirious. It had the cleansing effect that it always does when I go there, and I am happy again. It’s 50 degrees outside, I have my windows open, the kitties are lying at the entrance to the balcony, enjoying the breeze, and I am going to take some nice drugs and knock myself the fuck out when my energy level wanes again.