14 hour workdays. Constant computer malfunctions. Headaches. Nausea. A steady stream of stressful bullshit.
"Dave Orsborn's gonna kill someone, Dave Orsborn's gonna kill someone," sings my coworker as I scream obsenities at the latest system failure. We are not doing anything of value to society I remind myself. We are burning the hours of our lives away in a basement in Hell's Kitchen to put together another fucking reality television show. And we are working on computers that were built ten years ago. We've got a couple of hang-gliders and we're calling ourselves an airline. I come home miserable and exhausted and go to work dreading what's in store.
And I ask myself, "Is this worth the toll on my mental and physical well-being?"
My co-worker tried to quit last week and let the post production supervisor talk him out of it. Can't let myself be swayed like that.
I get woken up with angry phone calls from the daytime assistant for not being CC'd on emails.
The show is a train wreck. It'll be a miracle if it comes together.
We are not saving lives. We are not doing anything constructive for the world. Can't let the stress get to me anymore. I am exhausted. I am depressed.
I am done.
1 comment:
DaveO: I've had some jobs from hell, but they weren't as hard to leave as the marriage from hell. Cold comfort, I know. I hope you find something that suits you better. You certainly deserve it. We have a couple of hanggliders and call ourselves an airline is my favorite line read online in the last month or so. Go you. And a big hug and all that.
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