Friday, September 15, 2006


I’ve had a lot of people telling me lately that I’m overworked. It must be true, I’ve been told so. Yet, though I feel stretch, and am tired, I don’t feel overworked. It’s a strange thing stress, people feel it in such different ways. The things in my career that have made me feel stressed are seldom due to the amount of work.

I had a psychopath bully of a boss once. He was a consummate liar, and seemed to thrive on chaos and the humiliation of others. He claimed to be arristocracy. Had it on his passport, so an element of that must have been true. He insisted on the title being used on plane tickets and hotel reservations. We shared a PA (she had originally just worked for me before he became my boss), so I got told all the sordid stories. Sadly she’s been forced to leave the job, and is taking the company to a tribunal for harassment and sexual discrimination.

I still remember one particularly fine meeting, when in front of a room of people I worked with or worked for me he told me I was a “slut, and should stop bending over and whoring for those bastards in New York”. I had a second boss in NY, and had done some work he didn’t formally approve. Now that is stress, with a fine dose of humiliation.

Then there’s home stress. Like any couple there’s been misunderstandings and disputes. Those sorts of things can get me hugely wound up and stressed. I hate conflict, and it’s a sure thing to get my juices boiled. Thank heavens LL and I are in a good space at the moment. Love helps keep most other stress firmly put away.

But 12 hour days and a 100+ item to do list? That’s not stress, that’s just fun. Mind you, I’ve got to make sure the right things happen. It is relentless at the moment, but its just good solid hard work. My protestant soul revels in that.


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