Although Schmoopy and all of the shit-nannigans that went along with him are living proof of how undoubtedly stupid I can be, this morning I found myself wishing I could reach out to him. Although he’s a
sewer sucking slime ball nice guy who is emotionally stunted and untrustworthy, I have to give him props on his analytical skills. He’s a (book)smart dude. I’m getting dangerously close to distributing several reports I send out weekly during this special time of the year and there is always that “helpful” co-worker who will find one error or oversight out of 3 million cells in the spreadsheet. If I’m really lucky they won’t “Reply All” to point out the error, but still…I have all kinds of anxiety the first time I hit that send button.
So yeah…Schmoopy would’ve been a great second set of eyes to look these over before sending them out to the masses. It’s not a big deal but I hate it when I miss something and look even mildly incompetent. Of course I’d never reach out to him for anything ever – I’d meet a better fate swimming in alligator infested waters with my hands tied behind my back and a raw steak in my mouth. When I think of it that way, briefly being perceived as incompetent doesn’t sound so bad.
All joking aside, I admit that for about 30 seconds I missed him. I really did. The truth is, I’ll always cherish the initial misconceptions I had about him. I loved that (non-existent) friend. But when moments like this come I simply remind myself…all of the cool people work in sales or marketing. Lesson learned, yo.
I need to just send them. An error is inevitable. So is getting called out for it. I’m a brave and courageous woman, I can take it. Release the hounds. Rob Szczesny to the front of the line, please.
Currently playing in the soundtrack of my mind: Writing’s on the Wall by Sam Smith. But before I go….