the things we do
It’s 2:45 in the morning. I’m at work.
my flight for DC leaves San Diego at 1 pm. which means, I have to leave here by 10 am. and the paper (just like any other asshole corporation) won’t let you take a half day off. if I leave after four hours, they count that as a full vacation day.
so fuck them. I’m picking up the hours on the early end.
I’m sitting at the paper right now. I just built the week’s Health section, which is actually just a two-page spread the local hospitals pay for. their HR departments write up these obnoxious, masturbatory briefs about honoring employees for hard work, and others covering tips on “eating healthy and getting enough sleep.” but by all means, please come in and spend a couple thousand dollars on healthcare if you ever get sick. remember how nice we looked in the paper.
seriously. they write up stories, which aren’t actually stories at all, and then it’s my job to lay it out on a page to make it look like it’s legit news. which makes me feel whorish. if I wanted to work in advertising, I’d have worked in advertising.
that aside. I’m also listening to “Brothers in Arms,” which is making this whole sitting-alone-in-an-empty-newsroom-in-the-early-morning thing all the more eerie.
oh well. in 15 hours, I’ll be on the other side of the continent. imagine that. one of my favorite holidays is here. mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce, man.
and, of course: happy Thanksgiving.
