A Foul Wind Blows

Sprint posed a deadline for this project: August 1. With the three of us working at full capacity, not taking any time off (such as I need to in July… four days off in two different chunks), we do not believe it is mathematically feasible to achieve this deadline. Apparently, Sprint issued this deadline based on the information that we have 40 boxes of files remaining. As it turns out, we have 99 boxes. Wow, Sprint. You guys weren’t even close.

My supervisor suggested to the boss of the parent company that either we start working overtime or he hires some new help just for the next six weeks. Hm… if we bring in two more people, we would only be slowed down while we train them.

So not only do I have to bust my hump (I’m fine with that), but I may have to neglect my long-expected pseudo-vacations. Over the fourth of July, I was supposed to take a couple days off to help renovate the parents’ living room. There would also be banter, movies, and fireworks, as several friends of the family would be involved in the process. I don’t really want to cut and run. Also, Josh Kalichman is visiting me the following weekend, and I intended to take that Thursday and Friday off so we could go adventuring and do some collaborative song-writing (yes, that’s right, I said song-writing, not composing).

Fine, so my summer gets crapped on. But what if, after this project deadline, I get deep-sixed like a red shirt (to reference titles of two previous blog posts)? I’d rather they postpone the deadline so I have job security and free time to actually get to notice the summer season and be able to do… I don’t know… anything with the people I want to see.

Things do not bode well for our hero…

“This was supposed to be the Summer of George!”