Gulp Indeed
So I’ve returned from my journey North for the Big Meeting.
(By the way, it is genuinely cold up there. I’ve gotten wonderfully accustomed to our 60 degree January days down here.)
As I’m writing, I’m debating how much to talk about this (or work in general) because, well, I don’t want to get fired.
Then again, let’s just say that after attending the Big Meeting, I’m not sure that won’t happen anyway.
I’m overreacting, I know. I’m taking hints that were dropped to their seventeenth illogical step. We really talked about improving and developing and growing in order to compete with the Northrop Grummans of the world. I think, at its heart, the Big Meeting was meant to be a pep rally of some sorts. There was even fancy food! Think of it - fancy food. Little baby crab cakes and Swedish meatballs and weird cheese-dipped pastry things. You’d think fancy food distract me from the urge to scream PANIC. But, illogical flipper-outter than I am, it didn’t. It only gave me a tummy ache.
But I’m not the only one who’s illogical. See that website? That website lists stock prices and shows video clips from CNBC. Us? Not so much.
A gem of the two-day extravaganza included a declaration of the goal to double our revenue in two years.
Let me reiterate that for you: Double revenue in two years.
Fancy food.
(I love italics).
That’s…highly unlikely. Especially since contract obtainment is a long, slow process that can take months. It makes me nervous.
Can I interest you in some political research?
And it feels good to freak out. A little. Somehow it reminds me, in that holy-crap way life always seems to remind us, to ask myself, "what do I want to do?" And the answer remains what it has always been: I have no freaking clue.
