I was originally scheduled to fly home on Thursday night; battered and exhausted but alive. And then the issue with the cover paper came up. Because I was awake and on-site when it happened, I knew about it seven hours before anyone at my “home” office. But I knew that email and voice mail was being left for the people who needed to know what was what.
I didn’t hear anything from my Creative Director, so I sent her an email directly to update her on the situation the following morning. I end it with “S.O.S.”
Still, I didn’t hear anything. I didn’t get any “instruction” as to my next move. Do I change my plane ticket to fit the new schedule? Well, the only other option is to not be here to press check the covers. And, since they’re the COVERS, I’m thinking they’re pretty important to look over in person.
I wait to see if anything is volunteered from Above. I suppose I could have asked directly, “what do you want me to do?,” but my Creative Director has previously mentioned to me that she wants me to take more “ownership” of my projects. And, honestly, with this little sleep, I’m not necessarily in peak cognitive form. So I decide to wait for direction as long as I reasonably can, and then this afternoon (after a whopping 30 minutes of sleep) I finally “take initiative” to contact the Travel Coordinator and ask her to look into what flights are available on Saturday. She gets back to me right away; there’s only one flight out on Saturday morning, so she booked it. I’m all proud of myself for Doing The Right Thing, even though I desperately want to go home on my original flight.
About an hour later, my print rep finally gets my CD on the phone and conferences me in.Â We tell her that I’ve booked the hotel room for the extra night, and that the Travel Coordinator managed to find a Saturday flight. I’m not scolded directly, but her tone of voice is very “you shouldn’t have done that without discussing it with me.” I think that I am maybe taking it personally, but when the call was over, my print rep comes out to the lounge to speak with me, and he mentions her tone as well.
Now I’m grumpy again. At least the last three checks went really well. I have a couple more to squeeze in tonight, and then I have a break (SLEEEEEEEP!!!) before the covers start to run on the new paper that SHOULD be delivered tomorrow. At that point, my schedule is looking like:
- 2am, last call; you don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here
I’m not very good with math, especially at the moment, but I think that’s 27.5 hours on press. There are a couple of 2-hour breaks in there, during which I can run back to the hotel for a shower, or grab a bite to eat. My flight out isn’t until 7:45, so if we don’t lose any time on press, I can grab an hour of sleep before we head to the airport. I hope to pass out on the plane, and then spend most of the weekend trying to get some sort of sane sleep pattern back.
Yesterday was the four-year anniversary of the accident that totalled my little red car, and ‘permanently disfigured’ my leg. Not that I’m keeping track or anything.
I’ve just received word from my cousin that my uncle (his father; my mom’s older brother) is in very poor health. I don’t want to jump to any dire conclusions just yet, but it’s really not looking good. Jahn should know more tomorrow, when he has another chance to speak with the doctor. More flights may be pending.
I might have to drink a lot this weekend.