Waiting for the Clampdown

Now I've done it. I sent a big long email to the involved parties about the notes the director and I discussed. It was seriously like a 5 page email. You know, I was just trying to hash it all out in my head. On paper. Email, I mean. Whatever. Point is they all woke up to a five page detailed email about my interpretation of the notes, which was not whiney. I would not say I whined. I would maybe say that I struck a note of mild panic. I mean, really, what we're looking at is not a rewrite, it's alchemy, it's cold fusion, it's turning plowshares into swords. In other words, it's not a polish, it's a revamp. Dean was the first to respond, saying he felt my pain and we'd hash it out. Then my manager. He just wants to be in the loop. He's in New York right now, so he's in the 3,000 loop. Nevertheless, the only person MIA is the director. Conspicuously absent through all of this, likely because I've lobbed a concussion grenade of the are-we-sure-we-want-to-open-up-the-patient-and-perform-major-surgery variety into his tent. Now he's scared we're all gonna gang up on him in the meeting. Which we probably will. Oh, yeah. Dean called a meeting for Thursday morning. This after my therapy session.