Yeah, I know. I really have been busy, seriously. Like I’ve complained to TJ more than once, it’s odd how this job (this colossus!) that was supposed to give me time flexibility has led to more time spent working, not less. Which is not to say that my time isn’t flexible, no. My time is eminently flexible! It flexes it’s way into my life sometimes until 9 or 10 o’clock at night!
I imagine there are other salesmen, or “knowledge workers” out there saying “Pfft. Sack up, you fucking baby,” but this is the first time I’ve ever worked a job that didn’t revolve around a set start and end of the day. Sure, there were times when I’d have to come in on a weekend or on and odd shift to get a job done, but those were always the exception (plus I got this great thing: OT). Now though, there’s pretty much no difference between Monday and Saturday when you think about the work. Every day is as good as the next.
So if every day and every hour can logically be filled up with work, how does one avoid that tendency? I wouldn’t call myself a workaholic by any means (I’m actually a pretty lazy dude) but I am obsessive to the point that I hate to leave things unfinished once I’ve started them (The trick is to not start projects in the first place, see. Procrastination is your friend, people.) which can find me clearing up emails until 7:00 p.m., the whole time stressing about the pile of receipts growing on my desk right next to Vera (because then I won’t forget to do them, see.)
Still, it’s starting to get interesting. The guy who owns the company I work for lives in Vegas now, for reasons of his own that are none of my business. He’s “retired,” in that way that high energy, healthy late forty-ish overachievers do. Which is to say he’s got his eye on working deals all over the village. This guy is so full of energy and enthusiasm that he’s hard to keep up with. He’s very upbeat all the time and talks in this rapid-fire, almost manic, flight of ideas way that, if you didn’t happen to know that he was a very successful, multi-millionaire businessman, you might just think he was a tweaker. Or maybe bi-polar on a perpetual manic high.
Understand, these are not bad traits and he’s a super guy but, well, if personalities were trains, this guy (call him A) is high-speed, all the way. And not one of those sleek, super engineered bullet train jobs, no. This guy is pure high-balling heavy metal freight bombing down the rails just on sheer force of will.
I would that little golf cart train at Disneyland that takes you back and forth to your car. Low maintenance, quiet, unlikely to hurt anyone. What I’m saying here, is, well, the dude is a little overwhelming and hard to relate to, but I’m trying real hard. I’m trying real hard, Ringo.
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