The blues.

I had an 8AM client call this morning.

And, strangely enough, I got on the call a couple of minutes before 8. Which is more than you could say for almost everyone else. Including the so-called "leader."

The call finally began with the echo of little beeps around five minutes late. The beeps indicated that other callers were on the line.

We had all spent some minutes listening to the worst hold music ever created.

The same hold music we've all heard countless times over the past years.

If the Taliban or Al-Quaeda want to earn broad-based support in America, they'd crash a plane into the conference call company, carefully aiming for the music department. No one would mourn.

I know it's meaningless and trivial to complain about the banalities of modern business, and life in the agency orbit.

Right now I am listening to a collection called "101 Blues Essentials."

Those people had something to complain about.

Crops that don't grow.

Women that cheat.

Sickness.

Death.

And women that 'done left.'

Right now it's Monday morning.

My younger daughter is at home after 223 days at sea.

And I'm listening to hold music.

We all have our blues.