The trains were delayed this morning.
Not the usual 5 minute inconvenience. I'm talking 30 minute, platform stacked 6 rows deep, people hanging onto people who are hanging on the door, passengers standing in the unique 'bugger the man ahead' formation (think about it) kind of crowded.
Somehow, I get to the office and check my mail and the job schedule, to find a stinking pile of what passes for work waiting. One of my clients wants a newsletter designed and copy-ready by 1 pm, while they're still giving galleys of the original information at noon. Information that has to be edited, rewritten, proofed and then sent to the art director, complete with snappy captions and whathaveyou. Information that is, at best, incoherent, and at worst, incomplete and incomprehensible. Which I point out to the long-suffering client servicing guy, who talks to the client, and is sent another document containing... the exact same information.
I'm still digesting this tripe, when another email hits the inbox. Another client wants YET ANOTHER set of name options for their product. At last count, I'd done 30 possible names, based on the ever-changing brief.
Yea, its that kind of day.
I mention this to my boss, who says "It could be worse". I know this to be true. At the same moment, an image of me being pushed, shoved and man-handled this morning flashes in front of my eyes.
And I start giggling hysterically. Because right now, there's nothing else to do.
Song for the moment: We gotta get out of this place - Blue Oyster Cult
Not the usual 5 minute inconvenience. I'm talking 30 minute, platform stacked 6 rows deep, people hanging onto people who are hanging on the door, passengers standing in the unique 'bugger the man ahead' formation (think about it) kind of crowded.
Somehow, I get to the office and check my mail and the job schedule, to find a stinking pile of what passes for work waiting. One of my clients wants a newsletter designed and copy-ready by 1 pm, while they're still giving galleys of the original information at noon. Information that has to be edited, rewritten, proofed and then sent to the art director, complete with snappy captions and whathaveyou. Information that is, at best, incoherent, and at worst, incomplete and incomprehensible. Which I point out to the long-suffering client servicing guy, who talks to the client, and is sent another document containing... the exact same information.
I'm still digesting this tripe, when another email hits the inbox. Another client wants YET ANOTHER set of name options for their product. At last count, I'd done 30 possible names, based on the ever-changing brief.
Yea, its that kind of day.
I mention this to my boss, who says "It could be worse". I know this to be true. At the same moment, an image of me being pushed, shoved and man-handled this morning flashes in front of my eyes.
And I start giggling hysterically. Because right now, there's nothing else to do.
Song for the moment: We gotta get out of this place - Blue Oyster Cult
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