Jul 4, 2009

There's no crying in Baseball.

I could not remember the last time I cried because of work. If I would have to guess, the year would be 1996. The reason for me crying was not even a typo, a bad situation at work... it was just that I felt sick and I wanted to leave but my stupid ass boss at that time made it difficult for me to leave. Yeah, the reason sucks.

That was the last memory of me crying over work. Until Thursday.

Let's go round by round.

Round 1) I am tired, it's 3 pm. I have to write a huge presentation for a client of mine. The good thing? It is a rewrite of an existing presentation. The bad thing? Since the client has made so many changes to the strategy, I have to write and write until the presentation makes sense again. This thing is very important and because other clients that insist on shitting my day I am way behind.

Round 2) I start writing. For no apparent reason, I am finding it hard to focus. I am taking too long writing simple frames.

Round 3) At 4pm I start focusing at last. I write and rewrite 14 frames.

Round 4) I clicked on a slide. Something happens. The program quits even without a notice from the OS X system. Hm. I look in my Desktop. The presentation has disappeared. Gone.

Round 5) I hit every Find search available on my computer. The presentation is gone. I start yelling and swearing so badly I even think my landlord hears me. I cry two or three tears of frustration.

Round 6) I start all over again. I opened up the last presentation and proceed to rewrite it all over again. It takes forever since I am very angry and pissed off. I save the damn thing every single minute. I even close, quit, open up the program again. The presentation is there, it's working.

Round 7) I am at the last frame. The Thank You frame. It's 7:30 p.m. I am so happy because I never thought I would finish it. In fact, in my frustration I have written a better presentation than the first draft.

Round 8) I click on the white typography to add a shadow. I need this copy to be seen perfectly.

Round 9) The program quits again. The presentation of 75 pages, finished completely, the one that needs to be printed 6 times and binded... has completely disappeared. Again.

Round 10) I start HOWLING and crying. I have never cried this hard. Sobbing. I am frustrated, angry, tired. I get - for some weird reason - a weird fever. I yell, I scream and scream. It's 8pm.

Round 11) After 20 minutes of utter depression I start all over again. I end up writing a decent but not brilliant rewrite because I don't have it in me anymore. I just don't give a shit. I want this day to be over and done with. I finish at 11:45 p.m. Eyes swollen, still fever running. I did not give a damn to proof it.

This story can be idiotic for some but it has a good side and a bad side. The bad side is: I actually gave a shit so much about work that it was personal and frustrating, not because I lost the damn thing (a word of advice, don't use warez because this is the reason all this happened in the first place) - but because I did a good job that I knew I could not repeat again. That kind of inspiration comes and goes quickly and I was frustrated to the point of tears because I knew it could not come back again in its full glory. Crying about it made me feel good, made me think that; no matter how much as I insist that I give a shit about advertising, I do care, I do like my job, I do want to do my best always.

The good thing? In a flash I gave a shit. Lost the damn presentation twice? Who the fuck cares. Let's make a shit ass excuse of a presentation and let's go home and sleep. The glory that I felt about the presentation being as good as fuck changed in an instant to total who gives a shit... A normal person would have gotten a two hour break, breathe, have a drink and started at 11pm. I didn't even give that idea a try. It turned from a project that I wanted to do good to just a project that I wanted to finish. Hm.

Anyway, the thing is that I felt something other than nothing. And the good thing about the whole day was... I had lost that feeling, caring, for years and years. Yes, it lasted a few minutes and I gave a shit again... But at least I felt something. Like Frankenstein said...

It's alive!!! ALIVE!!!!


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