A DAY IN THE LIFE OF AN EDITOR
There's talk now and then about what kind of folks we Editors be. Are we omnipotent beings who stare down at hapless noders from some lofty domain, our fingers poised over the nuke button ... or are we, in truth, just everyday, ordinary people who aren't too far removed from the general populace? In order to shed some light on the speculation, I hereby offer a blow-by-blow account of a typical weekday in this Editor's life.
05.50: Alarm goes off. Stagger out of bed, step on puddle of sick thoughtfully left by one of the cats. Though groggy, register annoyance. Will clean that up later. Wish Tom good morning, even though he's asleep and dead to the world. Notice cats waking up and eyeing me suspiciously.
06.00: Step into shower. Fumble with water knob that needs fixing, as soon as I get around to it. Shower and attempt to wake up.
06:30: Emerge from shower, dry off, apply deodorant, gel hair into place, and finish up. As Dolly Parton says, “It ain't easy lookin' this cheap.” Back to bedroom and dress. Kiss Tom goodbye and suggest, as always, that he GET UP in order to get to work on time (for a change).
06.50: Stumble downstairs. Get chased by cats. Take vitamins, put out food for cats, kill ants on kitchen counter, and leave for work. Struggle with sticky lock on car.
07.00: Drive to work, despite repeated attempts by slow-ass drivers to prevent arrival. Get there just the same and park in my customary spot on the 5th floor of the garage.
07.30: Arrive at desk, wait 15-20 minutes for slower-than-sin laptop to boot up. Annoy co-workers with the morning's rant and pull up the ticket queue. Get badly-needed cup of coffee.
08.00 – 11.00: Work tickets, including those left by “ business partners" who can't seem to provide any useful information that might enable me to diagnose their problem. Rant some more. Get 2nd cup of coffee.
11.00: Lunch. Head downstairs to see what is today's overly starchy and fatty offering in the cafeteria. Look at said offering and wonder, as I do every time, what the hell is this shit? Abandon attempt to find decent food and settle for cheeseburger and fries.
12.00: Return to desk. Check schedule for any pointless meetings. Attend pointless meetings. Remember the days when I could access E2 from work, before it was blocked (SECURITY RISK!! due to, of all things, the catbox.)
13.00: Return to desk again. Rant at co-workers some more while working tickets. Attempt to remain awake while working on documentation. Get first of many diet Mountain Dews.
14.00: Attend another pointless meeting. Stop on way back for another diet Mountain Dew. Call Tom and get orders for the day. Check ticket queue.
15.30: Take “emergency” ticket from the queue. Discover that said ticket will require more than the half-hour left in my day to finish. Call user and have unintelligible conversation. Joy.
16.45: Leave work at last. Drive home and attempt to remain conscious while so doing. Search in vain for decent music on the radio.
17.15: Arrive home. Get mail. Get chased by cats until I put more food down and clean litter boxes.
17.30: Make pot of badly-needed coffee. Fend off cats and head down to basement with cup, and boot up systems. Settle back and relax at last, light pipe, sip coffee.
17.40: Sign on to E2 and other websites. Read and vote and discharge editorial duties, mostly fixing typos in writeups and answering noder questions. Watch catbox and attempt to understand what's being said. Make comments which are usually ignored due to lack of wittiness on my part.
18.30: Greet Tom as he arrives. Figure out what's for dinner. Fix dinner. Get chased by cats. Eat dinner and watch TV (usually a British comedy show). Play with cats (or is that cats play with me?)
20.00: Return to basement and computers. Work on writeups. Get writer's block and go work on radio for a while. Ignore cats banging on basement door, wanting in.
22.00: Switch laundry loads. Back to working on writeups. Banter in catbox. Go upstairs, get second cup of coffee. Get chased by cats ("Boys! Let Daddy have a few minutes quiet time, OK?").
23.30: Tired. Extremely tired. Shut systems down and head upstairs. Get chased by cats on way up to bathroom. Brush teeth, undress, and get ready for bed. Attempt to find spot in bed, already occupied by cats and Tom, in which to lie down. Read for a while.
00.00: (approximately) Lights out. Feel cats jump up into the bed. Go to sleep in preparation to do it all again tomorrow!
Exciting, eh? How was your day . . .
POSTSCRIPT: Upon reading this, a dear friend asked "where I was going with this". I have no idea. Get chased by cats.
POSTSCRIPT #2: The lovely and talented chras4 suggests, for an ending line, "I am a mere mortal like you, however I will not turn away offerings of grapes and ambrosia. Also, a little catnip might prove beneficial."
POSTSCRIPT #3: Alright, so I'm a Gawd now. I still get chased by the cats.