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Wednesday, June 16, 2004

Fintan, the Chinese Jew

I don't really feel like writing anything today. What I should be doing is writing a first step for the 12-step program I belong to. But I don't really feel like doing that either. I mean, I talked to my sponsor today. He took the day off to pick up his girlfriend's maid who just came back from Sri Lanka. I know I have a lot of issues. I don't really want to talk about it but I have to let some of it out, you know? What it boils down to is this: you can be right, or you can be happy.

So, I'm right? So what? If someone decides to disregard what I have to say for whatever reason even if listening to me should prove beneficial to them, why should I make that my problem?

I had a friend, Mark, who back in my drinking days, used to call me 'The Jew'. Because he thought I had a persecution complex.

I had a Jewish friend, Fintan, who thought that everyone was prejudiced against him because he was Jewish. Fintan, I might add, was a Chinese Jew. Met him when I was studying in HELP Institute. Anyway, he once remarked to me, very seriously, that even though he looked Chinese, he was being discriminated against because everyone could secretly sense that he was Jewish.

I feel like that sometimes. Like I've been 'outed' by some super-secret society everyone else belongs to. Kinda like that episode of the Simpsons where Homer wants to join that club but he couldn't because it was a No Homer Simpson club.

I didn't say my post today was going to make much sense. It's late, and I'm tired. I really have to check my email and update my blog more regularly from work. Got a bunch of stuff to do this week. Got in trouble with my direct supervisor for a proposal I wrote for one of the Account Execs. It's kinda complicated. My supervisor, a couple of weeks ago, maybe even a month or two, told me to stop putting so much effort into writing proposals and just bullshit on them. His reasoning: no one ever reads them anyway. His exact words, ok. So when the account exec came to me and asked me to write a proposal for Unity College (I am, by the way, a Copywriter. I am not supposed to be writing Press Releases, which I do anyway, that is a PR person's job. I am not supposed to be writing proposals - that is the job of an account exec. And writing missives on behalf of my boss to recover fridges given away 2 years ago as a wedding present clearly comes under the jurisdiction of a P.A. I would like more money for having to do all their jobs, ok?) I asked another A.E. if I could make a copy of his proposal to Stamford College and rewrite it for the previously mentioned A.E. He said Ok. So I did. Added some of my own crap, edited out some of his crap (oh, and did I mention that I was told to write this proposal in 2 days?) and voila! A proposal for Unity College. And guess what? They loved it (they actually loved one of my ad concepts and by extension loved the proposal) so we sign a multi-million dollar contract. Happily ever after, right?

Wrong.

Another A.E. was bitching about how that A.E. got the contract and he announced his displeasure loudly to me and the A.E. I had purloined the Stamford College proposal from. Blah blah blah yadda yadda yadda word leaks out to my supervisor. I get called into his office and pretty much got a new ass torn out for 'fabricating' factoids.

Jeebus.

8 more months then I'm outta here. Or 8 more months and a year (I don't really remember the requirements for joining a multinational ad agency). Whatever. I don't care anymore. I'm just trying to do my job, get along with everyone and not rock the boat.

Like I said earlier: do I want to be happy or do I want to be right?

Anyway, I'm off to bed. Going to read a chapter or two of the latest novel I bought (Part 1 of the Darksword trilogy) then beddy-byes it is for me.

If you've got this far, thank you for reading today's post. I'm sorry it's kinda rambling and disjointed... that's how I feel at the moment. Hopefully I'll have something more lucid and thought-provoking tomorrow.

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