You may notice I’ve been a bit hors de combat for the last day or so. That means off the field… out of the fight… not present and accounted for… you know, outta here. No, I didn’t die. I didn’t, God knows, go on vacation. I’ve been sucking it up, because it’s show time.
Every now and then, in spite of everything you do, you get to a period of time where if you don’t work like a slave, you’re toast. Suddenly, everything is on the line. There are important presentations to investors, say… or an annual meeting… or a gathering of all the senior management in the company at which you must present… or a Board meeting at which the future will be mapped out… or all of these at once.
You don’t have to be told it’s crunch time. You know. You go home at night, your head swimming with all the things you have to do. You sleep a couple of hours, maybe, and then it’s suddenly 3 AM and you’re up to stay, exhausted, stressed out, heart pounding in your chest.
You look at your calendar — not the one on paper, or on Outlook, but one in your mind — and you realize that tomorrow will be no better. Nor the day after that. Nor next week. It’s Hell, pretty much from here on in, at least until next month rolls around, and if things don’t go just right it just might mean a long, slow circle down that big dark drain.
As dawn breaks each morning, you hear the birds singing, the trash man on his merry rounds, the dogs barking at each other on the first walk of the day… and you envy them all. Because they are not you.
You don’t feel like getting out of bed. But you do. You don’t feel like shaving or putting on the costume… but you do. Because when you get right down to it, this what they pay you for: your ability to suck it up and go into battle when the hour of decision arrives.
So that’s where I’ve been. And that’s where I’ll be.
I’ll see you when I see you.
Damn, that’s depressing.