Damian hates his boss, his doctor has just told him he's got an inoperable brain tumour, and he's about to meet the Devil and the girl of his dreams, when all he really wanted was coffee and a sandwich. You might say it's not his day... or it could...
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You know how when people say their boss is an idiot, it's usually just because their manager or employer has done something recently to piss them off. I mean surely there can't be that many idiots in charge of things right? Yeah well. My boss is an idiot. A bona fide moron. Not just here or there. All the time. I honestly don't know how he got his job. Well actually I do. He owns the company. His only major talent, well talents – I'm feeling generous – are being rich and kissing arse. And he's rode them both to fame and fortune with his Creative Agency, Blahlamo. Well maybe not fame and fortune. But in his mind he's a creative genius. Unfortunately he also is my boss and at the moment it's annoying the shit out of me.
This time though he went to far. Or I was over the nonsense. It's definitely one of the two. And after yet another meeting with our latest million-dollar client, I had finally had enough. Here's the rub. My boss, who can't even open and read an email, continually promises the world but without the budget to deliver it. Then we lose money. Then he gets pissed because we lose money. Then he gets snarky, and yells at the staff for losing money, when it's him all along. He gives in to client deadlines we have no hope of meeting, and then expects us all to work 9-midnight everyday to fulfil his promises. He on the other hand goes home promptly at 6. The bastard. So this client. He promised we could do everything they need within their miniscule budget. Half the shit they want is impossible unless you want to spend millions of dollars in R&D. How the shit are we going to send their customers their own personal hologram via email? What the actual shit? He doesn't know what he is talking about. This is the problem. I sat there staring at my notepad, realising I had written 'kill Michael Rochard and this could all be over by lunchtime' on every available piece of notepad real estate. It was not looking good. Besides I had no available weapons to kill him with, and I didn't want to go to jail for it. Perhaps if I just ignore today it will go away?
The client of course nearly pee'd their pants in excitement. But for me, well I knew what was coming. This afternoon I would pull Michael aside, take him into the conference room and tell him that 90% of his promises to the client were un-achievable. We'd have a barney. Finally I would get him to understand what he had done. He'd be all put out. I'd try and be nice about it. Because I'm an idiot. Then Michael would ask me to go and speak to the client. Put things right. This would be the catalyst for a torrent of stupidity, which would follow on from this interaction and carry over into the rest of the week. That was my week shitting shitted. I was well and truly over it.
As the meeting finished up I realised it actually was lunch-time. I decided to head out and get some air. Let my fury abate with the summers breeze. It wasn't only my boss who was ruining my day though. My doctor had also had a good hand in shitting up my week. I had gone to see him to get some test results the previous day, and the motherfucker had told me I had the big C. Cancer. That shitty scumbag of a disease that begins with mutated cells that are found in your own body. It's a potluck kind of disease. Though having a genetic disposition towards developing it nicely adds to the fuckers chances. It's a nasty little bastard. Invading your body. Sometimes you just end up with the C bomb when there's no family history of it at all. And you're a non-smoker who errs on the healthier side of life... like me. Shitting shit it. 6 months I was told. 6 short months left. It was pretty advanced. No options. And here I was just thinking I was over worked and run down. That's why I'd gone to have some tests. And this is what had come back. I was only 27 years old for Jeff's sake! I shouldn't even have to think about cancer yet! I hadn't told anyone. In hindsight I really should have taken someone to the doctor with me. I never dreamed I'd get this news. So right now I was the only one who knew about it. I needed to make some plans before I tell anyone. I don't want everyone trying to take over my last few months. Controlling it with their own craziness and emotions. It's my demise damn it. I just want to live it out on my own terms.
