What a week I'm having!

So yeah.

Just to put it out there:

There are better ways to start your work week than by reading in the NY Times that your company has 48 to 72 hours left unless it raises a massive amount of money. In a credit market that's collapsing.

I'll have lots and lots more to say about this. (Hey, if you're reading this and you have no idea what this whole mess is, give me a shout or stay tuned. I can explain it with wit and verve! Just ask my coworkers who I've been amusing/elucidating all day!)

For a tease, here's Hank Greenberg (the CEO who built AIG and was forced out during a trumped up accounting scandal pursued by that peach of a man Eliot Spitzer) writing to Robert Willumstad (the latest of our revolving door of CEOs after Hank left. Decent guy, but with a pretty hopeless mission.) on Monday. The day before we were bailed out (read: bought) by the Fed.

And here's my shorter version:

I hate you. You know this. But even aside from that, I've offered to help you. You've ignored me. You're going to lose the company you fucking moron. Take my fucking help.

Yours, Hank

An open letter to the girl in the next cube

Please, please, please learn to do whatever it is you do without muttering what you're reading under your breath. It's almost as annoying as the horse-like sound you make when you eat those pretzel sticks every afternoon for four hours.

In fairness, your sing-songy multi-hour long gossip phone conversations during which you alternate between desk phone and cell phone, occasionally using both at once, is still by far your most annoying habit.

By contrast, I've almost learned to ignore the loud clomping noise your shoes make whenever you take more than a single step and sometimes even then.

But please. The muttering-under-your-breath-as-you-read thing is a bridge too far. There have to be limits.

PS. None of the above should be construed in any way as a suggestion that you should begin once more to listen to crappy Chinese pop music on your computer's speakers. Everyone in earshot of you is glad that you finally stopped after the four-dozenth complaint. -b