Perpetual doghouse

I’m in one of those funks where every time I open my mouth, I’m in trouble. I can be 100% right and I’m the one who gets in trouble. It’s gotten so bad that this funk has slipped into my subconcious.

I was driving home this evening and thinking about work. I was focusing my thoughts on how we’ve moved 99% of marketing production in house and how our backlog turnaround has been exponentially truncated in the past 12 months. I thought “Man, if I could only find a good deal on a paper guillotine, I could get new signups out the door in a couple days.”

Yes, I had a day dream about a paper guillotine.

My next vision was of my marketing coordinator mangling her hand with the guillotine. I rushed to the rescue. As I made my ER doctor-like dash I grabbed a sweater that was draped over one of the chairs in the office. I used the sweater as a tourniquet and a blood soaking rag.

I thought I was doing the instinctive and right thing. I got my ass reamed by the other girls in the office for getting the sweater soaked with blood.

I just can’t seem to win.

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