I'm only kidding a little bit here. Karen Silkwood is a martyr to whistle-blowing, and I feel a certain kinship to her. Of course my life is far less dramatic and there are far fewer consequences. While she narc-ed about dangerous conditions at the nuclear power plant where she worked and may well have been murdered for her pains, I threw a spotlight on how dysfunctional this creative department is and, for my pains, have been ignored by my boss.
Completely. He has not said a single word to me this week. Though, in fairness, he did wave on Monday.
I don't know if he's mad because my coworkers came to my defense last Friday when I wasn't in, or if he's upset because he has something of a crush on my most difficult coworker and he had to have an uncomfortable conversation with her, or because he's emotionally checked out of here and just hopes if he avoids me, we'll never have to discuss this again.
Or maybe it means I'm being let go soon.
I just have to hang on with all ten fingertips until Friday at 5:30. Then I'm on vacation. A spa getaway is definitely in order.
And soon baseball starts. Cubs baseball makes everything look better.
