I Sent Her Into a Comma

One of the inhabitants in the house has a shirt that says “People like you are the reason people like me need medication.” I should send that to the overreacting client. Thankfully I was out on a true emergency today, for there were seven emails and yes, one lengthy voice mail, with “I can’t find this!” and “Oh wait – I found it. Never mind.” types of messages.  I cannot help that you’re feeling under pressure to get this done. I cannot help that it’s an impossibly large project. I cannot help that my version of Word is newer than yours and thus, operates differently. I cannot help thinking that I could walk through fire and not singe a single page and you’d still complain of the smoky smell, for I delivered what you wanted in under two weeks (when it would take someone working at an acceptable pace a good three weeks to get it all completed). That you’re nitpicking is fine – it’s your project, after all – but that you’re having panic attacks with each message is waaaay unnecessary. And frankly, it’s starting to piss me off.

 I want this project to be OVER. I want this client to be OUT OF MY LIFE. I like her plenty, but I don’t like her tendency to pee her pants the second a comma disrupts her otherwise period-filled existence. I cannot, and will not, take on another person’s stress and terror. I cannot, and will not, be sucked into the drama that doesn’t need to be there. And as much as this is an opportunity to break into a new market space, I cannot, and will not, work with these people again if she’s involved. Maybe it’s a market space that will come through another means.