Today started out weird. Every song I listened to on the way to Cincinnati this morning made me cry. Just one of those mornings I guess. Itinerary:
5:00 Wake up and get ready
6:00 Get in car and head to gas station
6:15 Drive to Cincinnati
8:15 Arrive at shop 15 minutes late
8:20 Get the disturbing news that my hard drive (which I had sent to our IT guy to try to recover data from) is fried beyond repair. 3 weeks of marketing data gone.
8:45 Head over to Coffee Shop for meeting
11:00 Head home to Lexington
1:30 FINALLY get home and begin working again.
5:30 Go to clock out and realize that I had not been clocked in
5:40 begin this blog....
I am not really comfortable with writing about work, although it is one of the largest facets of my life. I some how feel like committing my true feelings about the work I do will suddenly find their way into my employers inbox and that will be that.
What can I say....
I am a marketing manager.
What's difficult about that is the constant measuring. Web statistics. Customer surveys. Profit Versus Revenue Versus Cost. Budgets. Business reply counts. Number of sales calls. Email campaign bounces. Email campaign unsubscribes. On and on and on.....
I care a tremendous deal about what people think. Why shouldn't I? It's my job to care what people think. But being constantly at the mercy of measurements....expectations...it makes you extremely paranoid and self aware to the point that you take everything personally.
"Take me off your f*&king mailing list! I never asked for your #$&* and the last thing I need is more spam!!!"
You want so badly to respond and say, "Hey, Potty Mouth. If you will recall, eight months ago you signed up to be on our mailing list. And by the way, you hurt my feelings. And if you would just ask nicely, I would gladly remove you from our mailing list and never violate your precious junk mail folder again!"
But Potty Mouth doesn't care. Potty Mouth is having just as bad a day as you are, and simply imagines some automaton sitting in a cubicle grinning insanely from ear to ear for no reason and filing his complaint under the unsubscribe list and never thinking about it again.
But he didn't get an automaton. He got me. And what Potty Mouth will never know is that I will dwell on his e-mail for probably the next forty-eight hours. Congratulations, Potty Mouth. You win.
Which brings me to tonight. Girls night out. This is a new weekly tradition being started by my friend Robin and I and a few other victims. Tonight it will be just Robin and I though, which is fine by me. What's great about Robin is her complete acceptance of herself. She is the most self aware person I know and acknowledges all of her traits with gentle credence.
Robin would not be effected by Potty Mouth. Robin would send him some good vibes and go on with her life.
Hopefully she will rub off on me tonight, as I am sure tomorrow will be filled with Potty Mouths, Web Traffic Declines, and Customer Survey Cards written in blood.
Just like every other day.