My not-bad

This morning I re-read last night's post and I thought, "Yikes. I come off as a real asshole." I resolved to post a vague almost-apology once I got to work.

But coming to work has confirmed everything I wrote. There was a story about a memorial dedication that came with six photos. Three photos featured speakers who were not in focus, but whose audiences were. Two photos featured a gray sky so bright that the light was washing out the subjects. The last photo featured two women holding a large framed portrait. Hey great, except the portrait was tilted upward just enough to reflect the sky instead of showing the subject in the portrait.

"But, Dave," you say. "Surely that's the worst of it."

Nope. The incompetent ad manager took a half day without telling me.

"So?"

If I'd known, I wouldn't have let her leave without giving me the quarter-page obituary for which I'd been holding a space. We go to print this afternoon, so I'm left with a quarter page to fill with ... what? I don't know. It's on a page reserved for obituaries, so I'm tempted to run a prophetic obituary of the ad manager. You know, something to put her on notice. "... died under mysterious circumstances ... will not be terribly missed ... applications being accepted for another perfume-soaked hag to take her place ... Who wants margaritas?"