Like Death and Taxes...

It's that time of year again. My annual work review. I enjoy these about as much as I do raisins, prunes, pickles and getting my semi-annual dental cleaning. Postponed twice and nearly a month late, I think it just might happen as scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. I'm not quite as anxious as years past nor justifiably angry. The boss amuses me in a "man, he's such a tool" kinda way. And the artists? Most of them are big babies.

Within 2 minutes of sitting down at my desk this morning, I was harassed by artist after artist in person, via IM, and over emails about what THEY needed. EVERYTHING is a priority. What about what I need? Like my morning cup of tea and some breakfast? Or MY priorities? Like making sure I'm awake and well fed else I bite someone's head off as a casualty of war?

Alright, I kid but only because I've been in a petulant kind of mood all day. I do like most of these people. Even Mr. DD, who is the biggest baby of them all and the one I have to work with the most. (Demented fairy godmother I tell you.) But if any of these people say one bad thing about me in my review, heads will roll...