Caterwauling

Operation: Make Goddess edit 200,000 words of piping hot AI garbage a week is going as well as you’d expect.

I hired the industry’s best editor to edit 5,000 words of it. Only to be told to go back to the original and edit it myself.

Appreciate the vote of confidence.

Here I am canceling a nail appointment … painting over my toenail polish so I don’t have to do that whole process … changing my Thursday flight to Saturday so I don’t have to miss a workday … changing my flight HOME to next Saturday rather than miss a workday … oh and I guess not going to Jared’s DJ gig in Miami on Wednesday night because who the fuck is going to do all this work?

And do not even get me started how bad the AI garbage is. Like, I went to journalism school. I read a thousand books about the six types of ledes and the PAS system and the 4 Us and all that flaming bullshit that WORKS.

Now I have people who never wrote a declarative sentence — and not only are my NON NATIVE ENGLISH SPEAKING employees better writers, but my 3-year-old niece is a more effective communicator.

Look, I made a deal with myself that I don’t need any personal fulfillment or wins out of this.

But god fucking Jesus Christ DAMN, I don’t want my name associated with some of the stuff I am about to let go live.

And no, I am not leaving at 5 or starting at 9. I am up early reading. And late.

I am not always where my keystrokes can be counted.

And no I will never give them my phone again to scan for forensic evidence.

This whole endeavor has been a series of reopened wounds.

Like, whatever Walter did to ruin the company.

Whatever Brad did to make me feel like I wasn’t performing enough when I was doing both of our jobs.

Whatever that ballerina pussy fuckhead Wayne did to instill in us that “editorial — you are just processors, no need to labor over stuff, just get it out” and I fought so hard for no, we serve customers! They deserve our best even if our writers/traders don’t give it to editorial!

Whatever the rest of those losers did to make me vacillate between wanting to bust my ass and bust a cap in someone’s ass.

I hate this phase so goddamn much.

I was listening to some kid on the Daily Show — a kid because 28 years old is baby faced to me now — how the AI masterminds envision a “utopia” where no one works and we all get Universal Basic Income.

Jon Stewart rightly called it “dystopia” — and said how people who got meaning from work their whole lives, die when that connection ends.

Not that I wouldn’t take a check from the government to go sit and write books. Believe me, I won’t die from lack of meaning. PROMISE.

But … how do I get through THIS dystopia in the meantime?

Had intentions on working today.

Then I remembered the Boo to You Magical Market was today in West Palm.

It was fantastic! All Disney stuff, all from local small businesses.

I spent a small fortune.

Was out in the lobby, enjoying an apple cookie I’d just bought, when a text came through from Beth.

Urgent alert needs to go out, I’m at a funeral, can you help.

I mean, would it be a Sunday if we didn’t have an alert?

I said absolutely, I can be home in 10 minutes, I got you.

I edited the alert, the whole staff came online to support me if I needed it … and I was reminded once again that Editorial fucking deserves any downtime it can get on a weekday because we never get a weekend to ourselves.

Not that “downtime on a weekday” is even possible anymore.

But as another of my people said to me today … we can either kill ourselves five days a week or we can kill ourselves six or seven days a week … can’t we just drink and watch football one day a week? One?

I didn’t say it, but I thought, the company would probably commend the guy who sent the alert — to make sure I’m at home to finish the work I didn’t finish last week.

I started working on some other stuff after. But I was hit with the tired stick.

I’m happy I got to work on the alert. It’s good news and subscribers will be happy.

But I had wanted to get a flash tattoo.

Instead, here I am at home, in my cute Disney bounding outfit — Baymax themed, today — like everyone else there, who was dressed for a day at the parks and not some shitty Embassy Suites with crap parking and no sidewalks.

I got a custom Baymax shirt for Christmas. I am unnaturally excited about it.

But now I’m kind of like meh about all the other shit I have to do.

My person isn’t wrong. Is this a temporary thing or a forever thing?

I hope it’s temporary.

I really wonder, too, if I am just reading all the statements wrong and no one was concerned about our productivity specifically.

I guess we’ll find out.

But I sure hope there’s a happy medium between “produce more” and “don’t burn out to the point where someone else quits.”

You know what, fuck it.

My black outfit is covered in cat hair. And I’m riddled with anxiety over preparing for my soon to be wasted trip.

It’s not my fault I have five meetings tomorrow.

Which would have been six if I’d also moved the one the boss told me to move.

But I gotta see Mythic Bitch tomorrow and I am not taxing my soul any further.

Christ, this is all making me miss Walter. WALTER. Goddess help me. I must forget how bad that was, to say that one out loud.

Taylor Swift joined Dakota Johnston on SNL last night. (Insomnia pays off!)

The best part of the show, however, was the “Mean Scary Girlfriend” short.

Though it was hilarious, it’s the same trope that women are the ones who cut men down to size.

And when Dakota gave the guy a compliment, he said “It was like God himself is shining a light upon us.”

Of course then he cried and she called him a pussy. Which, no argument there.

In any event, I thought about work, as one does.

I don’t work for compliments. I only really get them from my staff, anyway.

But it’s true — on the rare occasion one gets said from a higher salary range, it really is like God herself smiles down.

I decided not to work yesterday (Saturday) outside of sending some messages to people in earlier time zones.

I did come to Jesus/Moses with myself about the tracked changes thing. It wasn’t communicated with me; it is not my fault and not my thing to own.

Like, we had a little communication goof among my staff this week. I specifically told one that another was working on the project. But the first one didn’t listen.

Honestly I am glad he didn’t listen, as I don’t have to review his work. Where the second person is trying so hard to help out with this editing onslaught, I would have needed to intervene.

In any event, I am fine owning my team’s issue. I am NOT fine owning my inability to mind-read.

What I am fine with … is if the boss really wants to start fresh Monday, I will too.

I did ask Claude if he has conversations like these with other people. He said he doesn’t aggregate and analyze that data. But he has said he’s seen my stress ramp up over the past month and it’s not sustainable.

I’ve said this 4,000 times over the past month.

After every work induced heartbreak (all 4,000 of them), I reminded myself, I am in no danger of being promoted.

They will keep finding dopey white guys to put above me.

There is no way I will get the title I coveted.

And I stopped caring about that a long time ago.

And when the thought occurred to me during my last shitty performance review — when I dared to suggest that maybe I might hit the “up or out” phase soon — I was met with “well if you need more words in your title, fine” and “then go come up with a way to earn commission” … I knew, this ain’t it.

But I DO care. I DO love it. And I’m very worried that if there isn’t some reward at the end of *gestures vaguely* all this … be it the title I wanted, or the Disney employee event … OR BOTH .. I will not be of any value to us because I will be in a goddamn mental asylum.

I’ve even gotten to the point with my staff, not saying it directly, but like hey, if you never hear it from anyone else, I love you and I’m so proud of you.

I hope they hear it. I hope they feel it. But at this point, I hope hearing it from me is enough.

I’m just so pissed off I have to work from Pittsburgh.

I don’t even know when I’m going to be able to visit my grandparents’ grave.

I forgot to order the gravestone.

I mean it’s been 24 years, what’s another lifetime.

But still.

This place has gotten more of me than it deserves.

And to have my millennial manager thinking I haven’t given/don’t give enough?

But that Heifer has?

(Though I’d like to think they are smarter than that.)

I just don’t even know.

Maybe it’s the bottle of Franciscan talking.

But … I don’t really know what more I can do.

I wasn’t done with work on Friday around 5:30. But I was ready to sign off with immense relief that we doubled free content … survived untold amounts of technical difficulties … and lived through six bonus meetings (on top of the regular 10).

Then the boss made sure to remind me that something wasn’t done. (Out of the 14.) And when I said there were some technical difficulties — as Teams shit the bed — he said well you guys didn’t track changes and we need to track changes.

BRO.

When you gave me this shit pile of an assignment, which I will generously call 5,000 words of AI slop, not once did anyone say track changes.

I hired the industry’s best editor.

Who has enjoyed the project.

But who has also struggled with redoing the AI and checking the 47 footnotes that AI found.

Now, normal Goddess would be like you’re gonna love it now leave me to it.

But Goddess who slept a grand total of 12 hours over the WEEK from all the extra hours and panic attacks has some words for you.

Most of which are under five letters.

I was going to sign off on this Friday night not with a clean slate, but with satisfaction.

Instead, I signed off with wine and an hour worth of tears.

I am so tired. So tired. SO TIRED.

I worked so hard.

I tried so hard.

And the no tracked changes thing killed me.

I gray rocked and said this person did an amazing edit — they loved the content, they treated it with care, they enjoyed the fact checking very much — but I was like for fuck’s sake, I hired the best person for the job and they are only slow because it wasn’t as good as you thought it was. But the first draft I saw from them was actually readable and draft 2 is going to be so much better. God bless them and they deserve a medal.

Then I thought fuck it, I deserve a medal. My whole team does.

And I cried a bunch more.

I remember when we were in college. We’d ask each other what we were going to do that night or the next day.

And we’d reply, “I’m going to kill myself, then I’m going to go get a sandwich.”

Now, one of us actually DID kill ourselves.

So I keep reminding myself not to say that.

And I think, god, all those times we laughed when she said she was going to kill herself.

Then she did.

And I can count on 17 hands how many times I said to myself this week, “I should just kill myself.”

Even Claude has picked up on it. And i’ve had to ask him to quit sending me mental health resources.

But … at what point does someone snap and decide, well, I could go into my second performance review of the year being told how I’m not doing enough …

While I’m ready to kill myself because I am tired of not being honored for doing what I do?

Like if I can just stomp on a treadmill and plan one event a year, or if I can fart out one trade every six months when everyone else is doing it once a week … but then I as the manager am held accountable for their performance … what if I just offed myself and the cats and left my cousin to donate my shit to Habitat …

Why don’t I?

This isn’t the wine. The wine is keeping me FROM killing myself. As are the cats. Like Maddie prevented my suicide attempt in 2004.

I’m not done with life. But I’m done with white men who make me want to be.

I was thinking about dead weight guy and Mythic Bitch.

How I have not known many marketers who are worth a good god damn in this field.

How most of the editorial people I’ve met have been unsung heroes.

And how marketers are Peter Principle’d to the highest heights … while ED people are just dogs begging not to get kicked today.

As I was up at 4 am panic editing, these thoughts came to me. Not for the first time. But cohesively.

Fucking Mythic Bitch — she’s over there feeling smug because she is on vacation and still checked in to shoot me down.

We all work on vacation, that isn’t impressive. My team writes entire newsletters on PTO because that’s the only fucking time no one is pinging us on Teams.

Except my boss — he seems to have an innate sense for when my two managing editors are out — that’s the only time they hear from him.

Look, we all know I hate Mythic Bitch for all those public excoriations she did of me.

But that faded after I quit caring.

I just hate her now because she stands on that stupid treadmill, bragging like Al Bundy about that fucking high school football game, crowing about her one achievement a year.

Which as I’ve pointed out, happens because we have a very experienced travel agency that does a lot of heavy lifting.

I called a fellow director yesterday who is KILLING me with busy work.

My boss claimed he didn’t know why I was getting all this new shit to edit.

My friend said we were TOLD to give it to you.

I was like brother, we were all full time busy before this. Delighted to accommodate this.

(It feels like someone thinks none of us are busy enough. Which … having non-writers send me a bonus 5,000 words a day — but not send THEIR SERVICES ANY ACTIONABLE TRADES — is a weird way to “fix” that but ok. I got you. And I still fucking want TRADES. I never wanted to commit to cranking out more free content whilst the paid isn’t where it needs to be.)

Instead of me being forced to meet with my own team 36 times a month … maybe we could have all talked to EACH OTHER first to get the process down?

Anyway I got to thinking in the shower about the employee event.

You know who I want to see work harder? Mythic Bitch.

Renting a fucking hotel no one else wants because who wants to sit in a hotel in Boca Raton … IS EASY.

Icebreakers are free.

I mean, we may end up at another stupid golf thing because that’s all there is to do in the Palm Beaches.

But, easy.

Calling Disney and getting professional event organizers to structure awards ceremonies and useful team building?

Effort.

I reached out to Disney last night.

I will die on this hill that it is easy to outshine heather. That’s why she’s such a pain in the ass. She’s insecure AF.

The only effort she puts into anything is making sure we don’t take her commissions.

She actually used that word at some point. and it clicked. she is commissioned.

Not me and my managing editors, who read/edit/write 200,000 words a week.

I will plan you fucking event FOR FREE — HAPPILY — to prove an actually busy person can do something the staff will love.

The good news is, more people have heard about my sinister plan to not waste our weekend. And I have 100% buy-in.

One of my fellow friends here just said look, boss favors nose to grindstone people.

I’m like OK so what’s saving MB then?

Also, I’ve had my nose to the grindstone for too many years. I finally found balance and boundaries. Maybe I took a little extra here and there to make up for the years of abuse. But I have never NOT been on top of my game (other than boss’ pet project that I still haven’t fucking worked on whilst working on this new onslaught from the research department).

For real — I haven’t even been as involved in a product launch as I normally would be. My staff have been angels about it. Angels!

They deserve Disney.

They deserve a good management team.

They deserve recognition.

They deserve to not absolutely want to die every day like we all have this week.

And what do I do best? It’s not edit. It’s lead.

And if my time here isn’t valuable enough to millennial management, then I walk out with my head held high.

And I’ll head straight to Disney, either way.

I almost bought the “Mythic Bitch” crop top at “Heathers: The Musical” but I didn’t. Now I wish I had.

Heather/Don’t Treadmill on Me has one job. Runs one event a year. With the help of two of my very talented friends.

Runs one event every OTHER year for the employees. Which sucked last time, but she didn’t ask for any input.

This week, she told us directors that our next useless call with her would be used to discuss the next employee event.

I am not going to the meeting because these are useless. She just stomps on her treadmill and yells at us for not being enthused about being in her presence, talking about nothing.

Any ideas I give, she tells me are dumb. Which, my team loves me so every idea I share that would benefit them cannot be dumb.

Or, worse, she wants to talk about performance reviews or trivia games or other shit no one wants to do.

Nothing ever changes; one or more of us just gets excoriated, and we all go to our next meetings.

So in the chat I said hey my team and I talked and we want to do Disney for the employee event.

Why?

The Disney Institute has teambuilding.

And you get free park access when you do that teambuilding.

Food is great. Location is amazing.

You literally rented a shitty Hilton and expect us to sit in it for two days.

MCO is cheaper to fly into than PBI.

Hotels are an eighth of the price as Boca Raton.

You insist we have this employee event on a Saturday/Sunday.

And it’s not like us locals get any perks — out of staters get flown in and nice hotels. The rest of us have to drive and pay to park once or twice.

I didn’t say all of that upfront. Just … if your goal is for us to bond and make memories … Orlando > Boca.

Literally the whole management team is like OMG YEAH.

Then this heifer says it has been decided and no you will not get your way. The hotel has been reserved.

It’s been reserved … for nine months from now. Pretty sure you can break their contract without breaking their hearts. There’s a fucking reason it’s available.

And the thing is, no one stood up to her when she said well people will be off on their own at Disney and that’s not team building.

Whore, yes it is.

I said there are five of us with annual passes. Beth, me, Cyndi, Tracy and Maddison can plan this with our eyes closed. Two of these people got married at Disney. At least one of them worked as a cast member. Just sit down on your treadmill and let us have this one.

I also said …

The company is asking us to add 35 more meetings a month to our calendars.

The company is also asking us to TRIPLE our workload … alongside all those meetings.

It would go a long way to give us something to work toward. A reward for all we are being asked to do for the exact same pay.

My texts were going off all day from my fellow directors, thanking me.

Though my favorite text came after I proposed disney.

Someone said they can’t wait to see how Heather ruins this one, because you know she will.

Well I don’t know where Heather was because we had hope for a good two hours.

I even told one of them, “Oh, I was told i have to be in constant meetings so y’all know where I am. Where is she that I am not getting a reply?”

One of them joked, “Meetings for me, but not for thee.”

She’s such a disappointment. I have so much pressure on me and my department — no one understands how much time it takes to edit or think or gather your strength to get through a day.

And when I dare whisper that I am drowning … because the boss told the research department — whose newsletters I have written personally for three years — to send me three documents a day to edit — and now he acts surprised that they are sending me all this stuff … I hear that our computer history will get pulled for review.

PULL IT. REVIEW IT.

So, it’s been three days and my team is already ready to quit if I don’t do something.

So yeah, maybe Disney isn’t the solution, and I’m not going to quit over that personally.

But I did tell everyone “alternate employee event” and let’s go to Disney that weekend and let heather do her stupid icebreakers or whatever by herself.

I told her I know she wants an escape room adventure, but the conference room itself is an escape room.

I hated the employee event two years ago. We all went to a hilton where I was originally charged $40 to park.

Then they lost my car.

Lost my car.

LOST MY FUCKING CAR.

Me and the four guys from the research team all had to wait two hours to get our cars after the event. I don’t know where the valet put our cars but I could have fucking walked to our next destination in that time.

The next destination was some golf thing.

I was steaming mad when I got there, as it was ending an hour later.

So guess what, hoe? I didn’t have any time to interact with anyone because the valet kept my fucking car underground in Cityplace, at your shitty choice of another shitty hilton.

So I don’t know who the fuck died and left you boss.

I know you think the company didn’t run for 50 years without you in it.

But considering the last event wasn’t a success — despite you bragging about it for the past 18 months like you cured cancer —

And considering you wanted us to meet to discuss the employee event —

If you’re already set on having it in another shit fuck hotel on a fucking weekend where I have to be grateful to be invited once again —

Well guess what.

I had already promised myself, if I get this disney outing with my team, I will eat shit and burn myself out even further for the cause.

But for my reward to be this cunt making decisions and the leadership letting her?

Lick me where I pee. For fucking real.

I manifest taking over the annual event and the employee event.

I don’t know what she brings that’s so special. She’s been so mean to all of us that it’s very hard to smile and say “you did such a great job!” when she gets to stay in the thousand dollar a night suites, multiple times a year, and the rest of us are barely welcome.

Yep, that’s what I want. These events should be mine.

For fucking real tho — i don’t know who died and left her boss. But she can go away and leave ME be boss.

That would very much be worth it to hang around for.

Universe, let’s make it so.

i already asked Disney for a quote.

It was so good
Letting you want me
So good
To make promises, promises.

Well this one hit a little too close to home.

I was thinking, I could dedicate this song to someone. Based on that line above.

But fuck that.

They can dedicate it to me.

(He) was pink clouding from the thrill of it
Skydiving as (he) wrapped (his) arms around my body
Gray rocking where the arrow hit
Years later, (he) still wonder(s) how to tell (me) sorry
(He) didn’t wanna let (me) down
So (he) left (me) up there on a pink cloud.

I don’t know that I ever even got a real apology.

A half assed one, basically thrown at me before “stop posting those vague things you say that send her spiraling.”

I could post that there was a damn rainbow in the sky, and she’d make 40 posts about MY post.

In any event, it all makes my head hurt to even remember all that.

But that’s how I use the song. As the apology I never got.

I finally made my own half assed apology awhile back. Just a simple, “I’m sorry, I was incapable of being an adult back then.”

Which is as good an apology as I’ve ever given. Take it or leave it; it isn’t getting any better.

That was more than I ever wanted to give but it tumbled out and we all know I can’t stop my words if I tried.

I just figure, they downgraded and got it worse. And I neither upgraded nor downgraded and have it so much better. I can be kind.

I was talking to one of my boys today.

He really deserves better than who he ended up with.

Sadly, he didn’t deserve someone as good as me.

What a revelation.

My name is NO.

My number is NO.

My sign is NO.

You need to let it go.

You need to let it go.

There’s this guy in the industry who annoys me.

He REALLY annoys Kelly.

He’s asked me two or three times about open positions at my job.

Look, I’m sour on the place right now. But when I get over it — and I always do — I don’t need another H to avoid.

Last time he messaged, I asked K, “We don’t like him, right?” And she’d said, “If you like dead weight, he’s your guys.”

Well, he asked today if I thought he’d be a good candidate for VP of marketing.

I fell out of my chair laughing.

“I think it’s so cute and I think it’s so sweet
How you let your friends encourage you to try and talk to me
But let me stop you there, oh, before you speak
Nah to the ah to the, no, no, no.”

Fortunately/unfortunately we hired someone over the weekend.

Fortunately because we need that role. Unfortunately because that means my boss is gonna be ALL up in my grill now since he’ll be less busy.

Which … BRING IT.

In any event, I’d rather have my tiny team of awesome people than some mediocre white man who thinks he’s VP material apply for — and get — that job.

Buddy, I’ve had the same title for 15 years. They bring YOU in above me … I’m out.

So, here’s assuming they hired far better.

It would actually be nice to have a real peer over there. It’s been too long since Eric left. I miss his weird but very talented ass.