I get an annual review at work every year, but after recently sitting down behind the glass (as we worker bees like to refer the only non-cubicle areas of the office) I realized...as a writer I don’t ever get an annual review from a boss telling me how I’ve done.
So, here it is. I’m giving myself a review. Just so you know, the role of “me” and “the boss of me” is played by...me.
Boss of Me: Come, sit down, Robin. Let’s talk about your year of writing. No...don’t sit there. I need to see the clock. And shut the door, would ya?
Me: Sure. So, how’s my review? Is it bad?
Boss of Me: Bad!? Bad!? We don’t use that term around here. We like to use “needs improvement and bound for the slushpile.” But let’s get right to it. I’ve written it all out on this paper, but I’m going to read it to you anyway as if you are a monkey. M’kay?
Me: (Sitting silently, picking at my hair with my feet.)
Boss of Me: Let’s see. You’ve met our expectation of coming up with story ideas and submitting them to contests and editors. But you seem to have fallen behind on requirement #3: Finishing a story. Do you have any suggestions on how you can meet that goal?
Me: Well, maybe if I didn’t have so much paperwork and bureaucratic mumbo jumbo I had to wade through...
Boss of Me: There is no paperwork or mumbo jumbo in this job.
Me: Maybe if I didn’t have to answer the phones so much and put my laundry in the dryer and eat all that chocolate and supervise the programming on the Home and Garden channel...I could get my work done.
Boss of Me: Look, you finish a book and I’ll personally see to it that I supervise the programming on the Playboy channel for you.
Me: Home and Garden channel.
Boss of Me: Right, that’s what I said.
Me: So do I get a raise?
Boss of Me: Here, have a piece of chocolate.
Me: (Smiling, picking at my hair with my feet.)
Boss of Me: And pay a little more attention to the dress code. No more sweats and bunny slippers. This is a respectable trash heap in the corner of your second bedroom.