The irony didnít hit me right away, when the phone woke me up this morning. I was a little too groggy to appreciate it at the time. The Boss was calling to ask me about the very thing that has kept me awake most of the night for the last few days. The only time I seem to sleep well is in the morning, and here was the phone jangling me back to bitter reality. I could have used another hour, instead of having to get up and start answering questions that I couldnít fully process.
The facts are these. The Kennel is involved in a feud with a client over money owed. The details hardly matter, but they involve a partnership dissolving, a car crash and subsequent coma, and an unauthorized family member trying to conduct business for an incapacitated person. Itís all very sad, Iím sure, but I donít know the principals, so I care only about one principle: Iím running out of money faster than I should be, thanks to this snafu (that Tim said would be corrected last week, although he now tells me the bank promised it would happen by Tuesday).
The Boss was really trying to be helpful when he phoned this morning. How much money would he have to advance the company to tide us over until the April receipts start rolling in? When I tried to tell him, he complained that he couldnít hear me. ďThatís because itís the middle of the night, and I havenít slept all weekend, and Iím not awake yet,Ē I explained patiently.
So we made a game plan for the day, and I had another long and painful conversation with Tim, who was driving back from a meeting in Southern California, and I tried to make it through another Monday without destroying any walls or furniture. In that regard, it was a successful day.