I screwed up the pagination of that verdammt journal again.
I *so* feel your pain. (Pagination is my responsibility here.)
Not quite the same thing, but -- have I told the story about how we had a run of hardcover textbooks printed...with NOTHING printed on the spine??? We even got a cover spread color proof from the printer, and we all looked at it, and not one of us twigged to the fact that there was NOTHING ON THE SPINE.
All the textbooks had to be sent back to the printer, stripped of the covers, new hardcovers reprinted, and re-bound.
Oh, yeah.
Oof. I went to the diner across the street for lunch w/ co-workers today and am now feeling the effects of Too Much Penne.
Ouch Steph.
I just officially ordered my CSA, with my 5% discount (thanks work). I was so tempted to add a fruit and a flower share. Maybe next year.
How come the one day I come into the office, there is no one else in my corner? Ok, if I'd stayed home today, I would have slept instead of gotten work done, but dang it...someone entertain me.
Ooh, if they offered a flower share I would totally do that. I never end up eating much of the fruit I get though.
I *so* feel your pain. (Pagination is my responsibility here.)
Dear Gott in Himmel, this journal is the worst I've ever worked on. The pagination is done manually, no automated checks at all until it's too late to change it, so by the time one realizes it's wrong, one has paginated five more issues. Incorrectly. It didn't LOOK like it would be that bad when I took it on, anyone who can count ought to be able to do it, and yet, it's a malevolent clusterfuck. Every editor who's ever worked on it has messed up, but I still feel awful; I hate making stupid mistakes, and I hate even more doing it twice.
Damn. I hope it's not too early to drink, because there's vodka in this here coke.
cereal with angst:
NOTHING ON THE SPINE.
Oh, dude, I hear you. The horror stories... One of our journals once published a big obituary of one of the Important Fellows on the cover, and we got the birth-death dates wrong. Like, really wrong. (My boss did it, too. Remembering that is the only thing that keeps me from crawling under the bed and hiding.)
