Why I oughta ...

There's a big presentation on Tuesday morning at 9:00 AM. If it goes well, we could regain some lost luster with my client. Or it could cause the client to give even more work to our competitor.

We've known about this for weeks. I thought I just wasn't going to be included in the presentation. That was OK. I don't know everything about everything, after all, and our new (as of January 2) and high-priced management team must know what they're doing.

Yeah, right.

I was briefed on the project at (wait for it) 3:45 on Friday. Management wants to see my efforts "first thing Monday morning."

Bastards!

There was a time -- in my long ago 30s -- that I would have been thrilled to be the go-to girl. The one they turn to when things aren't going well. The heroine who saves the day.

Now I just feel used.

Decades of agita and unnecessary drama leading to unrealistic deadlines have worn me down.

I'm going to do the best I can on Sunday. I'm going to email my efforts to my boss (also a victim of this) by dinnertime. Then I'm going to move on.

And dream of retirement.