Brain death! Death to the brain!
2004-09-09, 6:32 p.m.

Nothing I like better'n driving an hour and a half to a meeting in another city - a meeting that I have been called to, not a meeting that I called or particularly wanted to attend - and having my arse reamed out repeatedly by what is surely the most idiotic, ill-informed, bad-personalitied asshole south of I-20. That just ruined what might have been a decent day.

I can't let this stuff destroy me, though. How do those perpetually perky people deal? How do folks keep an optimistic outlook when it just seems so pointless? For example, after the ass-reaming began, I merely matched the asshole's icy stare, thinking if this is a staring contest, bring it on, motherfucker. Luckily, Susan launched into her perpetually perky sales pitch and introduced dialogue into what might have been a staring contest punctuated by my sailor-like cussing, ending with me walking out the fucking door and quitting my job. Susan saved the day.

But even she, the most good-natured, enthusiastic, optimistic, fired-up person I have ever met...even she agreed that that was the suckiest meeting, held by the most awfullest person, ever, and that if that's what my job consists of, no wonder I'm discouraged and wanting to quit my job.

By the way, how freaking professional is it for me to whine about wanting to quit my job to people who in a way work for me? Not very, I'd venture. But there are times when the only thing that will break the tension in your throat and heart is to voice the possibility that life exists outside this job, and that if I quit the job, I could enter that life that exists out there. A life digging ditches or driving heavy machinery or something that involves less being yelled at and more satisfaction at a job well done.

Mmmmm, well done. Steak. That makes me hungry.

This is a shorty, but my brain is tired and dead, my eyes are tired, I have groceries to purchase and take home and put away, and there's a bottle of wine in the haridgerator at home calling my name.