The price of a dream job

I try not to complain. I realize how lucky I am. And I try to appreciate the good things - the meaningful work, the interesting problems, the flexibility and independence. And most days, the fun-to-shit ratio, as my father would say, is overwhelmingly in the right direction. And then there are days like today. Days when my boss is far away, in another country, several time zones away. And a partner is demanding urgent input from him before they will budge on a time-sensitive project. Days when co-workers seems incapable of managing deadlines. Days when all the shit seems to hit the fan at once, and apparently I am the only one with a rag.

On those days, the ratio is rather decidedly in the wrong direction. I know this is the part where I'm supposed to recognize that there are jobs where everyday is like that. But my average day at work is probably somewhere around a 7 or 8 out of 10 and today was a negative 5. So I'm going to pout and sulk and be grumpy about it. This is the tail end of an exhausting sprint and my tank is empty. I'm out of benefits of the doubt and lookings on the bright side. I'm just out.