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Being overruled on matters of taste by a buck-toothed 9 year old child
Admittedly, not a constant problem.
Over the weekend, totally fuelled by avarice, I agreed to work on a contract job outside my normal work, which involved the indignity of grafting through Saturday night listening to the laughter of people with actual lives filtering in off the street into our silent and slightly dark office. I was there long enough that I think I actually did that thing where you prise apart the blinds with a pen and squint out at the outside world as per creepy old loner tradition.
Anyway, I had to get up at 7am on Sunday and do the exact same thing, finally finishing at 7pm last night and sending it all through by email.
To paraphrase my conversation this morning:
'You got it all?'
'Yep'
'What'd you think?'
'Yeah. Archie doesn't like it'
'Who the FUCK is Archie?'
'You know - Archie. My little boy'
'Umm.....ok'
'Yeah, he didn't like the colours'
'You're not.....serious?'
'Do you mind going back and rejigging it a bit? Cheeeeers'
A bit stunned, I calmly smashed the phone into the receiver 58 times, and have now assumed a festering hunch position over my computer for the past hour - having to do it over isn't really main beef with this - it happens from time to time. The problem is....I have seen photographs of this boy. He's on the boss's desktop screensaver at work looking exactly the way you'd expect a 9 year old called Archie to look - scruffy hair with a sticky uppy bit at the crown, buck teeth, grin of the idiot. My whole weekend, 4 year design degree, years of professional experience just got trumped by the casual comment of a spastic little Alfred E. Neuman-lookalike. And he probably just said it while running past his dad's kitchen table after a Nerf ball: 'Dad, that totally sucks'.
This is a new professional low....