Sitting on four flats beside the highway of life


Major, major depression this evening. Had another talk with the VP at work. Outlined how I’m doing the work of two directors and picking up the slack for other PR people, etc. etc. He turned it around and explained how he’s doing things for departments not under his jurisdiction. I smiled and nodded and said I understand. Inside, however, I was thinking about his VP salary and how my salary is barely more than the Web designer who has no college credit hours at all.

Just before that I got some writing news I wasn’t at all happy about. I’m not going to go into that here. Not now. Just suffice it to say that it was depressing and disturbing. Left me in a real funk, wondering why I even bother.

4 responses to “Sitting on four flats beside the highway of life”

  1. Cheer up, little buckaroo. 😉 (Now where would I get that from?)
    Send me an email anytime you want to vent – okay? Twak ta me.

  2. You bother because you know what you have and what you do is worth it. Your writing is worth climbing over whatever stone is thrown in your path. Ulrik would not give in. *grin* Now pull yourself out of this funk. In the end, someday, you’ll be able to tell all these twits where to go.

  3. Part of you should be patting yourself on the back for being such a badass that you can take on all those roles. Sounds like the classic scenario involving people who are efficient, reliable and dedicated.
    The mentality of most companies is always baffling to me. Take one of the 2% of the people who work for us that are worth a shit and work them until they a)have a nervous breakdown, b)quit, or c) commit hari kari.
    I’ll never understand that.
    I know how you feel. I found out the other day, after talking to a graphic artist at another paper with a circulation only slightly larger than the paper that I work at, that his paper has 6 graphic artists. What disturbs me is that where I work there’s one; Me.
    I guess I’m wondering what they all do.

  4. When things really started happening for you a couple of years ago, I quoted the famous line, “Don’t forget about me when you make it.” You told me you had been too unsuccessful for too long to have to worry about that.
    Remember signing Darkscapes at Brace Books (I think that’s the name, the one in Ponca City) a couple of years ago? That seems like yesterday to me, and look at how far you’ve come since then.

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