Damn it.
Yesterday I emailed out my farewell to the Ottumwa counselors, who'd sent us a card.
Ottumwa!
(Blahblahblah)
PS Although it’s a bit late in the game to send a card of our own, I can offer you this artist’s interpretation of a giant squid battling a whale, which has been the working background of several electronic reports I’ve written over the past few months:
To which I received this reply:
Hi Tim,
The whale and the squid remind me of the agency right now. Not hopeless but not great. Clients are really upset which is understandable.
Well, all right.
. . .
To my great terror, one of the largelarge women here reminded me that tonight is the You Got Laid Off Party! At the House of Bricks, 5 o'clock. Oh, man, I'd conveniently forgotten about this. It's not so much that I abhor the idea of drinking cocktails with my coworkers—or maybe I do—but that I know no one else is going to show up. Not the other researcher, not the transcriptionists, just me and the largelarge lady and the crying woman.
Fuck.
Ottumwa!
(Blahblahblah)
PS Although it’s a bit late in the game to send a card of our own, I can offer you this artist’s interpretation of a giant squid battling a whale, which has been the working background of several electronic reports I’ve written over the past few months:
To which I received this reply:
Hi Tim,
The whale and the squid remind me of the agency right now. Not hopeless but not great. Clients are really upset which is understandable.
Well, all right.
. . .
To my great terror, one of the largelarge women here reminded me that tonight is the You Got Laid Off Party! At the House of Bricks, 5 o'clock. Oh, man, I'd conveniently forgotten about this. It's not so much that I abhor the idea of drinking cocktails with my coworkers—or maybe I do—but that I know no one else is going to show up. Not the other researcher, not the transcriptionists, just me and the largelarge lady and the crying woman.
Fuck.
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