Dietary Emotional Cloud
comic strip from http://www.dilbert.com
Things did not seem to clear up until mid-dinner. I welcomed the relief of normal fat-filled food as it entered my body alleviating the grumbling fog of ingested dietary caloric intake lift off of me.
Yes. I have been dieting. I need to lose a couple of inches around my waist and additionally, I have been more on the irritable side lately. I don't get it. This used to be routine, and now it just erks me too much, and get this--I have only been at this fat-stripping fiasco for...two days. That's right, two whole days.
<Sad. I know>
I guess an attempted diet coupled with a hectic work schedule for the week has not been balancing out my emotional state.
This morning started off with a blast. I usually wait at the corner for less than five minutes for the bus to come. This is because the buses are scheduled five minutes apart. Upon boarding , I noticed the driver seemed a bit on the older side. (Okay, I do not have a lot of prejudices, but I must admit--I have a mental ping against old people driving--please send hate mail to email@example.com).
And, I was correct--it was not less than ten minutes later that we were lapped by the next bus that was supposedly five minutes behind us. Apparently, someone had forgotten where the acceleration pedal was. When we hit the highway, there seemed to be an endless array of the unnecessarily hitting of the brakes. I glanced at my watch several times, clinched my teeth, and just really wanted to belt out, Why the hell are you hitting the brakes? We're on the !#@$% highway!
<But, I did not>
Later, as I entered the door to where I work, I sharply remembered that we had a deadline approaching in two weeks, and we had to really hustle if we were to have an inkling of a chance of making it. I have not been taking things for granted either. I have been working late for the past week and even brought things home this past weekend just to ensure meeting our deadline.
<But, there has been an ounce of uncertainty>
I have been suspecting this for the past week and this morning it has been confirmed--our web design person. The all-mighty, resume-enhanced, web designer did not understand how to perform simple programmatic logic, even though it was listed all over his resume. Yesterday, he even had the audacity attempting to blame me for his shortcomings. I gracefully defended myself. Well, I may have overly defended myself by first giving a stern impromptu status of the great progress I have been making, and then followed it up with a series of pointed questions inquiring of his status.
I have managed to make a high percentage of things click behind the scenes of this web application, but there is still no front-end, no face to our great machine in the making. Thanks to our friendly neighborhood web designer guy.
<Things did not turn for the better>
Our beloved web designer quit today. No face to our great application...nothing. He admitted that he was incapable of the skills possessed on his resume and nobly stepped down. Oh how noble. Oh how $#@%^ noble.
We now need a web page designer with programmatic experience, pronto. He or she needs to hit the ground running and deliver things in less than two weeks. Ouch. Thinking about things in retrospect, this is a common New York City assignment. Within the last seven months I have been working here, there has been about a fifty percent turnover rate--those who did not perform, got terminated. This was the first candidate who terminated himself.
I must admit, it does not seem to be the most healthiest of situations, but I am only here to perform one task and I'll be on my way to the next neat project, therefore leaving me somewhat mentally detached. But, I get nervous for I know the powers-that-be are watching judgmentally and I feel sympathetic toward those who get let go. I just keep my head to the grindstone and do what I am supposed to do.
But not today. I confided in one of the leaders of the project how I was feeling very irritable these last two days--how I had zero tolerance for stupidity and all I wanted to do was to rip someone's head off. He stated that for my enjoyment, it would be my turn to fire someone next time.
Hey, that could be fun!
(Note--take this entry with a grain of salt. I was very sarcastic. No. Really. I'm a nice guy. Okay...proceed with the hate mail: )
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