Yesterday, I was plumb worn-out.
Between the effects of a chest-cold and my painfully painful right rotator cuff, I felt like shit. At one point, running to a meeting (we spend 70% of our days running to meetings) I even got dizzy and my eyes were unable to focus.
It's not hard to understand why.
In the modern ad agency we make more creative than ever before and have fewer people to make it.
Every ferstunkeneh campaign needs print, TV, this that and the other thing, including tweets, that seem to take longer to write than keynote addresses before a Joint Session of Congress.
I am burning the candle at both ends. And maybe at the middle, too.
So at around 4PM, I decided I had had enough.
I will go home on time, and you know what, I'd have a drink or two.
I'd stop coming in at seven and doing a day's work by nine.
I'd start acting more creative. I'd stop shaving, stop showing up relatively on time, stop being so fucking diligent.
Maybe I'd even play the occasional game of ping-pong on the communal ping-pong tables corporate uses to try to persuade us that work is fun.
That lasted all of 20 minutes.
I worked late last night.
I'm in early this morning.
Cleanly shaven.
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