There’s something in the stars today: they’re not aligned properly. Everyone I know is having one of those days. Myself, I don’t seem to be able to keep my attention on any given task for longer than about thirty seconds.
Then, there’s this.
I’m taking a group to Turkey at the very end of June (no, you can’t come). I’ve sort of been neglecting them lately, and I had a couple of housekeeping things to take care of, so I composed a quick message that said:
Two things.
1. I need you to fill out this form and return it to me along with a copy of a government-issued photo ID.
2. We’re having a meeting with the co-organizers on Saturday, April 25.
Other business-y things, blah blah blah.
So, I send the message and, of course, realize immediately that I need to re-send the message because I forgot to attach the form in question. So, I re-send it with a “Jeez, sorry, forgot to include the form,” type message.
Mid-morning, I’m walking with my assistant, who is the processor of all paperwork, and I mentioned realizing at 2 am that I needed to collect the form from everyone, which prompted the message in the first place.
“No, you don’t,” she said.
“I don’t?”
“How are you paying for the travel?”
“The travel agent is going to direct-bill it.”
“Yeah, as long as you’re not paying money out to them directly, you don’t need that form.”
“Well, Hallelujah,” says I, because collecting forms is a pain.
So, I send e-mail #3: “I’ve just been told that the regulations have changed and I won’t need that form after all [oh, please, like you never tell white lies]. Disregard that part of the message.”
I move on to other things–badly, since I still can’t keep my mind focused–and, lo and behold, around 11:15 my phone rings. It’s a campus extension I don’t recognize. I pick up the phone, and it’s our co-organizers, calling to ask if we can move the meeting to Sunday.
I could have waited until tomorrow morning, but at this point, I already look like a complete idiot, so why not send it now?
Four e-mails. Each one contradicting the last. And the worst part is, I really do know what I’m doing. Honest.
I hate Tuesdays.
