If ever there were a time for Dorothy Parker's wit and wisdom, this is it.
This morning, I found a voice mail on my office phone that was left yesterday from the remaining publisher at my soon-to-be-partial employer.
May I say that in the 14 years I have toiled for this outfit, I have never received a weekend call. (One of the benefits of the publishing biz is that there are no emergencies--one certainly doesn't go into it for the money/prestige!)
The home office is aflutter about a publication that didn't get done last week. I am going to try to finish it off first thing today, but wonder: Did they expect me to work as well as I always have the week I learn they're letting (most of) me go?
As my friend Jennifer is wont to say, "The humanity!"
Fresh hell, indeed!
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