Caterwauling

Clod — nee Claude — gave me an intriguing insight.

He said do you notice you are always worried about work around the clock … and maybe that takes away from your actual productivity during actual work hours?

I mean, yeah I noticed. For 25 years.

But he’s not wrong. If I were just full force productive for 8-10 hours a day, I wouldn’t be worried about it all the time.

Like, I just sat down to work on this holy sunday night/mtv music awards evening.

Read a bunch of emails, some work related and others mostly catching up on news and politics.

And I realize my eyes are burning because I haven’t slept right in a (decade) week.

How does one read and write when their windows into the world are burning?

Look, I tend to shift the blame onto myself, since everyone else will anyway.

But really, one should not have to cut vacations short or work during them and then still be woefully behind.

OTOH I can’t forget when boss said who can you give this document to, to edit?

Like I was gray rocking rather than saying any of the 14 people I’ve laid off in the last few years.

But really … if I knew of anyone who could edit their way out of a paper bag …

It’d be worth my while to just pay them to make this go away so I can focus on this week’s product launch.

Unfortunately the only person who can edit just got another job … though he also applied to my open position … so either the new job isn’t working out or he’s sending a message.

And for real tho — it’s either the universe telling me here’s a second chance, don’t screw it up …

Or it’s the universe saying, hey, maybe there’s someone better out there … if you’d just pick up your PERSONAL CELL PHONE and talk to people.

I had good intentions on working today.

But I laid in bed, ate great food from the unimart kombini that opened yesterday in Mills 50, and rescheduled my entire pittsburgh trip.

I had plans to Brightline down to SoBe, stay at the Citizen M, and see my friend DJ at Do Not Sit.

The idea was to cab it over to MIA the next morning.

That was back when I just worried about work all the time. Now that I’m apoplectic about it all, fuck it.

Cut out the SoBe of it all. Changed flight to PDO International, home of the chief child trafficker. Made sure to make it on a Friday night so I don’t inconvenience anyone.

Not that I can get a hotel room in Pittsburgh under $500 on a Friday night when my flight arrives at 1 a.m. But also the car rental place closes at midnight, which is swell.

And the Saturday morning flights are absolute shite.

It was either that or go work from ATL or LGA or JFK for three hours mid-Friday. Which … I was planning to do but god forbid. God. For. Bid.

In any event, I probably spent an extra $300 on a shitty flight out of a shitty airport. But whatever money I save, I can apply toward shipping shit home to not deal with instead of paying to not deal with it up there.

I did allow myself one full day at the beginning and at the end for enjoying my city. The other days, out in the burbs for storage and working.

I figure one full day to really rip the place apart, and five days to work and agonize. Which … are synonyms?

I spent half my drive home from Orlando yesterday voice texting Mom.

It occurred to me for the millionth time that having her to talk to, at least gave me the strength to go back and deal with Brad and Brad Jr.

I don’t really have that anymore.

So I either have to maintain my grey rock that I show him/them …

Or else I have to find a way to not have to bottle up my feelings to the point of wanting to fling myself off my fifth-floor balcony 17 times a day.

It’s 5 p.m., where is your AI slop assignment for the night?

To be called not productive, man. I spent last Sunday night editing a 30 page dossier that was well researched and for someone I love dearly.

Wanting to get up and away from my cats and my football to do something for someone who will just complain on my review that I don’t work on his newsletter … not as motivating as y’all want to think it is.

Just woke up at 3:17 a.m. with night terrors. Again.

Soothed myself by canceling my 1-on-1 series with Brad Jr.

I wasn’t even supposed to be home on this Saturday night (now Sunday morning).

I had driven to Orland on Wednesday morning to spend the day at Epcot with my cousins. (The littlest one turned 3 yesterday!)

I had such a rotten Tuesday that I didn’t get moving on time Wednesday. So the day was half gone by the time I got there.

Didn’t see them at all Thursday.

Friday, I finally gave up on work and got to see them for an hour for dinner.

I realized in a big way that Brad used “you aren’t a good enough performer” to terrorize/motivate me.

I realized in a big way that Brad Jr. is doing the same goddamned thing.

It hit me around 4 a.m. today that I felt like shit for all those Brad years while I did his job and mine.

It hit me around 4:13 a.m. that Brad Jr. has spoken to my team once in five years and is threatening to “pull the records” to prove our productivity sucks.

I am so goddamned tired of running my mental health into the ground trying to prove people wrong whose opinion I would never consider otherwise.

Why am I home on Saturday instead of Sunday?

Because he handed me 4,000 words of un fact checked AI and told me to “find someone to edit it.”

Who are all these mythical people? The same ones who are supposed to be helping me produce 80 extra articles a week?

Can’t wait to ruin yet another Sunday working.

Just to be told I’m not productive. Again.