Chicago is lovely this time of year

Rant time:

OK, so there I am, at the veritable very tail end of a long, productive, happy week when one of my favorite account execs pops her head in my door. “I have bad news,” she says. “You have to be in Chicago at the break of dawn on Monday.”

My first instinct is to whisper the word “Fuck.”

So I said, “Say that once more.”

She backed away and repeated herself.

I said “OK”. With a hint of ("? youcrazy")!?

Smoke emanated from my smile.

In my head I said “How could you do this to me. ME. The guy on the spot, the star of the week, the man on the verge of enjoying a Super Bowl for the first time in 10 years.”

The subject was left at that, with me having to arrange for a hurried, shitty Chicago Monday morning meeting, with little prep time; and doing so late on a Friday night. Not good planning.

THEN, 2 MINUTES LATER:
I had to present the bulk of other work I’d done over the course of the week, in a happy, charming, convincing, and positive manner. Work that, to this point, had renewed my feelings for the agency’s spirit. And, in a way, made me believe in the point of commuting 2 hours each way to talk to friends in need of guidance. In other words, work.

Work that to this point was thankfully off the topic of the topic waiting to be addressed at the break of dawn on Monday.
(You might have to read that sentence twice. Sorry.)

Work that I took pride in. Until the account exec visit.

Let’s just say my mind (as some of you who know me well might have predicted) began to wander at the point of the bad news. Lack of focus, some might say. Listing like a ship in a storm, I might say.

Let’s just say I was pissed off.

I'm like you. I like happy surprises, not sad ones.

Being ambushed with a mid-winter Chicago trip is not the stuff fairy tales are made. A couple of days notice is cool. For this meeting, the timing was off to my dissatisfaction. Hugely.

So I voiced myself. I implied my barbaric yalp.

THEN 30 MINUTES LATER:
No longer do I have to fly to Chicago Monday.

Instead, I get to conference call from NYC to the Windy City.

It still sucks, because I still have to arrange 6 months of material for a bunch of douche bags early Monday morning. I had planned on 3 days in addition to Monday morning to prepare my case for the douche bags.

As about 30 people said as I was kvetching, that's why they they pay me the big bucks.

Maybe big bucks suck. They definitely come at a price.

On the bright side of Monday, meaning today, I got some portfolio-worthy work done for the first time since 2005. I just hope I can work on getting it published.

Or should I be, as the art director said, more concerned about telling the way more entertaining story of ME over the past 10 years?

Something to consider while I contemplate.