Yesterday the system was going flaky, never fully recovered from this weekend. Then my VP drafted me to do some work on his computer. I had the opportunity to work closely with him for once. And as a bonus, he was in a really bad mood. Last night a thunderstorm zapped us, sending our database off to Oz with some flying monkeys. Now the whole system is coming down, with a little help from me to make the crash smoother.
My boss is on his cell phone questioning me from the car as he drives back here from Birmingham. Everyone in the company is calling me one by one to tell me that something is wrong and ask when it will be made right again. Somewhere in New York that headhunting, witch-trial, Martha-Stewart-killing, NYSE-indicting prosecutor, Mr. Spitzer, is probably trying to think up some excuse to charge me with insider trading just for laughs. I'm flying high on stress - no need for bad office coffee, thank you. They've cancelled Friends and tonight is nothing but reruns, as if I'm expecting to get to go home before midnight anyway (I'm not.) The paperboy keeps throwing my Wall Street Journal underneath my truck each morning so that I start my day by crawling on my hands and knees in the filth. And I need to poop. Yeah, real bad.
No time to poop, though. Got a system emergency on my hands here and all the VPs are on a conference call which probably should include me, but hasn't as they are the only people in the entire company to not have called me yet.
Hold on, the phone is ringing.
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