Queen for a Day

4 May

“There is a price to be paid for being weak.”

Willy Vlautin

 

Our editor-in-chief waved me into his office today and said he heard I wanted to become the west coast editor. He thought it was a great idea; then asked me why.

I said, “It looks like I’m going through a divorce…you know how it is.”

The asshole then said, “Matter of fact, I don’t.” He went on to say how surprised he was that I was having problems in my marriage, that I always seemed so happy-go-lucky.

Then he delivered the zinger, “I guess you’re like the clown who is crying inside.”

Jesus…the shit you take, to keep your family from ending up homeless in the street.

Instead of feeling deeply judged by statements like these, I tend to take a step back, like an anthropologist, wondering how such insensitive and stupid people rise to top management positions. As far back as I step, it’s still a lot to absorb. You lose some self respect every time you let shit roll off your back.

I’ve watched a publisher stand in line to board an airplane and amuse himself by repeatedly bouncing a hacky sack ball off the back of an underling’s head.

Another one of our publishers famously missed a putt on the golf course and took out his rage on an unlucky turtle that had wandered onto the green, smashing it to bloody pieces with his putter.

The west coast editor job is mine if I want it. I told them I’d give them a final answer on Monday, after I discuss it with my wife.

(2005)

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