I would try to blog about what happened to me at work yesterday, but I don’t even think the written word could do it justice. I also don’t want the person involved to stumble upon it (I have a feeling he’s a vengeful, Googley-type) and find some reason to drag me through any more. But let’s just say that my skills as a “people manager” were tested beyond all conceivable limits. I’ve never, in my 10 years in this business, experienced anything like yesterday. I’ve also never, in my 10 years in this business, had a grown man scream like a little girl to keep his freelance job after committing one of the most egregious ethical violations I’d ever heard.
But by the time I left yesterday (now extremely behind thanks to losing an ENTIRE day dealing with this nuclear fallout) I was spent. Just sort of spaced out. I couldn’t even read on the train on the way home. I didn’t have the energy. For some reason, between Columbia Heights and Georgia Avenue-Petworth, I had a vivid flash of Lloyd Bridges saying, “Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit sniffing glue.”
This was definitely the wrong week to quit sniffing glue.