Parasites Lost

It was back to work Thursday after having Wednesday off as a comp day (hooray!) and realizing that nothing seems to change.

I walked into a teapot that was in a tempest -- and, at first, none of it had anything to do with me. I was watching the storm from the outside, but getting sucked in nonetheless.

Foreshadowing

Before I got to work, I checked my e-mail and found an odd message from the editor. It was talking about our coverage of the Virginia Tech shootings. It seemed to come out of nowhere, defending how the paper was covering the tragedy. I shrugged my shoulders and headed into work with the innocence of a newborn. Afterall, I've been out of the office for three days. How could I be suspect?

Before I reached the office, I received a broken cell call -- almost out of a bad horror movie -- that the e-mail had some sinister beginning from some staffers' complaints. Again, not the people I supervised, I gathered through the broken static of bad connections. All I needed was a flash of lightning and clap of thunder and this scene would be complete.

Beware! Beware! called the wind in the bare spring trees. Beware!

I strolled into the newsroom and, in the hallway where I hang my coat and hat, a staff member immediately jumped me about a style error in one of her stories. I had e-mailed her about the error -- nothing major, mind you, just a reminder on a technical issue. This conversation devolved into broader topics of accuracy and quality and lasted way too long.

Beware! Beware! called the dripping water fountain. Beware!

From there, the storm intensified with coworkers commenting on that e-mail from earlier in the day, with anecdotes about this and that, with nasty asides and bitter jabs adding to the rising chaos.

I felt the need to lash myself to the mast as the sirens called. I almost made it, then ...

A fellow editor came over and asked if my co-worker, who reports to me, was in. No, I said, she stepped away from her desk. Could I help you? I am her supervisor and have more than 15 years experience in my job here. I am a professional and can play one on TV.

No, he calmly stated. I just wouldn't understand the technical nature of the issue.

He stood at my desk, flipping through the documents on my desk until my co-worker arrived. He then asked her the question -- something I could answer.

No, he said. I just wouldn't understand.

The mast I had clung to snapped and I was washed into the storm.

From there, well, it just swelled and heaved and tossed me around like a tiny ship on a maddening ocean. By the time it was over -- after 2 a.m. -- and the seas calmed, I had been played the fool by my supervisor, insulted by a co-worker, belittled by my environment and made to feel about an inch tall.

When I sulked home in the dead calm that often follows a tumultuous upheaval, I dropped my broken spirit on the couch and turned on the TV for some escape.

I laughed! One of my favorite episodes of "Futurama" was on! The one where Fry eats a sandwich full of worms and those parasites make him a better man. The episode is called "Parasites Lost."

One small scene, where a background worm says, "Whoa, man" as Fry threatens to cut a key brain nerve that controls breathing and heart beat, always cracks me up. (The picture above is of the scene) It didn't fail this time, thank goodness.

All the stupidity and selfishness of the day's hurricane faded away, if just for a moment.

Thought: Back aboard the SS Minnow today.