The dropped ball

It would be great if I turned into the Hulk every time I lost my shit.  Unfortunately, I'm the sort of monster who does psychological damage, not physical
I recently discovered that I had issued the wrong revision of a construction drawing to site. The contractor has already built the affected portion of work, so there will be delays and additional costs while he fixes the cock-up.

The actual amount is negligible – it’s about 0.2% of the total project cost – but when I told the client about it, he started behaving as though he’d caught me enjoying carnal intimacy with his dog in the master bedroom (Hah! As if I would ever get caught!).

I was tasked with compiling the necessary facts and figures relating to “the case”, so that he can – I don’t know – brandish it threateningly and foam at the mouth some more.

There is no doubt that he’s justified in being pissed off, but it seems a tad sadistic to demand that I provide him with the very stick he intends to beat me with.


7 thoughts on “The dropped ball

  1. Suspect that if you show no response, the jackoff will continue to froth until you seem to be in pain. See if you can call on your theatre background to whip up a single tear, letting it roll slowly down your cheek, onto your desk, smearing the ink of your latest project.

    You can always yank a nosehair if needed… yours, of course…


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