Fire fire fire

I used to be curious when my mobile or my phone rang. Actually, scratch that. I used to be excited about it. About wanting to know who it was, and what they wanted, and what crazy shenanigans the world was potentially throwing my way. I even used to do political phone surveys.

Now I have my own unique phone cringe. It’s the face I pull when my mobile or my home phone or my desk phone goes. Particularly my desk phone, and particularly my mobile phone when my boss is away but IN Australia. That woman is nuts about the instant communication.

I just don’t want to know anymore. Because 9 times out of 10, that person phoning wants something from me. My time or my knowledge or on bad days, my head on a plate. I feel right now like I’m perpetually putting out fires. And I can’t remember the last time I started one. All by myself at least. Maybe that’s the way shit goes – you work hard, you carve a career for yourself, people start respecting your work and your ability to do stuff, and then they start throwing fireballs at you.

Maybe I’m just being naïve about all this and should just be sucking it up.

C’mon Friday. I’m dying over here.

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