Chapter 4.2: Great UckingF Start

I am so fucking mad right now.

For starters, I do not understand why the College did not have a delay this morning. The roads were still horrible from yesterday and some were covered up to an inch of ice. By the time I got to my car, they hadn’t even put sand or salt on the road and by the time I got to work (15 minutes later), they hadn’t done the same.

I got out of bed extra early so I could spend the 20 minutes it took to chip the ice off my windshield, but I only managed to clear 30% of the window. I should have known at that point that this day was shot to hell.

I knew I had to go on a “press check” today for this 24 page book I designed—yes the one I’ve been working on for the past 3 months. As they usually occur (from my experience), the printer picks the client up and takes them to the shop. I was expecting a call around 11, but became irritated around 11:45 when I didn’t hear anything, so I called them to find out what the situation was.

Of course, 2 and half hours behind fucking schedule and I got the impression that I couldn’t be picked up. I didn’t think it was a big deal until I realized that this place was over 60 miles away—about an hour.

I didn’t want to go in the first place and I was mad that I was expected to use MY car to travel to Windsor, CT. 60 miles to me (one way), is a long distance and considering the history I’ve had with this car, I didn’t want to put any unnecessary miles or strain on it.

So, I tried getting myself out of it, but I was ordered to go anyway. I was told I could get mileage reimbursement, but that’s not even the issue.

It’s the fact that people keep dumping large projects onto my plate that I can’t seem to finish for one reason or another. I had (have) a lot of stuff to do and I didn’t think a “press check” was really necessary anyway. I signed off on the damn printer’s proofs—what difference does it make?

When these projects on my plate don’t get done in a timely fashion, I don’t want to hear JACK SHIT about “where is this” and “where is that.” I don’t, cause I’m going to explode.

I hate the fact that I have to depreciate my vehicle. 120 miles might not be a big deal to anyone, but read earlier blog posts—you can’t count all the breakdowns or engine failures I’ve had with this car on one hand. Tell me, who would pay in the event the car broke down or I got a flat?

Anyway, so I get there—after about an hour of driving and they weren’t quite ready. So, I was given a 4 cent tour of the place, which isn’t very big and was presented with a press sheet of the piece’s cover. It looked fine to me and that was it.

I spent a total of 15 fucking minutes after having driven a full hour.

The next sheet to come off the press wouldn’t have been ready for another 2 hours and by that time, it was a little after three. I didn’t want to sit around and wait for 2 hours—I hate waiting and I wasn’t about to get stuck in Hartford’s traffic, so I decided to leave and go straight home. The next sheet didn’t have many photos on it anyway, so it wouldn’t have been worth the wait.

An hour later, I was home. 2 hrs, 120 miles for just 3 seconds of “Ok, it looks good.”

Nobody better not say ANYTHING when I roll up in there at 10 in the morning tomorrow. And yes, there is an all-building meeting at 9, but I ain’t going. FUCK. THAT.