And after the whimsy
Bunch of nonsense yesterday. Was in a funny mood. Sorry. Comes of getting old. Thanks for allowing the self indulgence.
Today: snap, back to reality. Been to see a new client this morning, nice chap, completely unrealistic aspirations re budget. Arse. I had to tell him so, too. Unprofessional not to. Still, I might be able to cobble something together for him for cheap. So, not an ideal client.
Another client last week, tons of money (and I mean tons) but no sense of style. Or taste. Or practicality. (Can you have a sense of practicality? Well, if you can, he hasn't). His solution: keep throwing money at it until it sorts itself out. While this could be a lucrative thing for me, it doesn't sit easily with my conscience. So I'm working on him about methodology and iteration and so on, and with a bit of luck we might end up at the same place without all the trial by error.
Just read the above back, and I sound like a total arse. Office bullshit. "Methodology and iteration". What the fuck does that mean? What a twat. Trouble is, it's difficult to talk about work without giving away what I do - you know I'm a designer, cos I've said that before - but I'm reluctant to give away more than that cos you might be able to find me a stalk me and murder my children in a bizarre and perverse ritual. Or something.
Ok, so enough about work. Social life status: healthy. Barbeque at weekend at mates' house. Fun was had. Good one. It was Mr and Mrs Mumbling Nige's house, if you must know. Trouble is, the subject of this blog came up, and now they know they're called Mr and Mrs Mumbling Nige which is a bit rude of me since they are so nice and put on such a good time at the weekend. I had a cake and happy birthday sung and everything. Sorry, Nige.
I've got another social event before this birthday is finally put to bed. Posh black tie dinner with the LOML and some as yet unknown friends at the fancy French hotel locally. (Duh. I mean I don't know which of our friends yet. It's a surprise. You can't have friends you don't know. Except on here, I suppose. Do we know each other? Hey, I like to think so). Anyway - the hotel dinner. Is followed by staying over. In a room with a whirlpool bath. Not the friends*, just me and the LOML and a big bath. Mmmmm. Looking forward to that.
And then after that I won't be special any more. I shall be just another forty year old bloke living his life.
Crisis? What crisis? No crisis here.**
*Although you never know, I could be persuaded ... no. Leave it.
**And no, I'm not changing my blog name. We've become attached. We've bonded. I couldn't.
Today: snap, back to reality. Been to see a new client this morning, nice chap, completely unrealistic aspirations re budget. Arse. I had to tell him so, too. Unprofessional not to. Still, I might be able to cobble something together for him for cheap. So, not an ideal client.
Another client last week, tons of money (and I mean tons) but no sense of style. Or taste. Or practicality. (Can you have a sense of practicality? Well, if you can, he hasn't). His solution: keep throwing money at it until it sorts itself out. While this could be a lucrative thing for me, it doesn't sit easily with my conscience. So I'm working on him about methodology and iteration and so on, and with a bit of luck we might end up at the same place without all the trial by error.
Just read the above back, and I sound like a total arse. Office bullshit. "Methodology and iteration". What the fuck does that mean? What a twat. Trouble is, it's difficult to talk about work without giving away what I do - you know I'm a designer, cos I've said that before - but I'm reluctant to give away more than that cos you might be able to find me a stalk me and murder my children in a bizarre and perverse ritual. Or something.
Ok, so enough about work. Social life status: healthy. Barbeque at weekend at mates' house. Fun was had. Good one. It was Mr and Mrs Mumbling Nige's house, if you must know. Trouble is, the subject of this blog came up, and now they know they're called Mr and Mrs Mumbling Nige which is a bit rude of me since they are so nice and put on such a good time at the weekend. I had a cake and happy birthday sung and everything. Sorry, Nige.
I've got another social event before this birthday is finally put to bed. Posh black tie dinner with the LOML and some as yet unknown friends at the fancy French hotel locally. (Duh. I mean I don't know which of our friends yet. It's a surprise. You can't have friends you don't know. Except on here, I suppose. Do we know each other? Hey, I like to think so). Anyway - the hotel dinner. Is followed by staying over. In a room with a whirlpool bath. Not the friends*, just me and the LOML and a big bath. Mmmmm. Looking forward to that.
And then after that I won't be special any more. I shall be just another forty year old bloke living his life.
Crisis? What crisis? No crisis here.**
*Although you never know, I could be persuaded ... no. Leave it.
**And no, I'm not changing my blog name. We've become attached. We've bonded. I couldn't.
posted by crisiswhatcrisis at
11:23 am
5 Comments:
Whirlpool bath...special!
By
Holly, at 12:53 pm
no, you have it wrong. you're more special now. keep telling yourself that.
have a great time with LOML at your hotel. That is a rare treat for people with little ones!
By
Kyahgirl, at 7:07 pm
I like 'iteration'. What is it?
By
mig bardsley, at 1:46 am
Moo: here's hoping.
Kyah: you're so right.
Mig: repetitive process.
DCI: Using a personal pronoun in the acronym was a bad idea, wasn't it? Could lead to all sorts of confusion. As indeed, it just has. It's just so the sort of thing you're not going to think of when you start a blog.
By
crisiswhatcrisis, at 4:52 pm
don't chase it- ha,ha, ha :-)
good catch!
By
Kyahgirl, at 4:10 am
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