Guess We’re Going to Build Another Goddamn Deck, Aren’t We?

Not the lumber kind that you construct with manual labor. That’d be too much fun.

If you are looking for help building a deck attached to the backside of your house where you can enjoy a morning cup of coffee and gaze at the sun as it rises over your little domain, I am not your guy. My hands are adorned with zero callouses — but occasionally nail polish, not gonna lie — and have not seen an honest day of manual labor for most of my life, except for sporadic occasions when I’ve been more or less forced into it. And when this happens, whoever hired my help quickly discovers I haven’t the faintest clue what I’m doing and am a potential safety threat to myself and those around me. So I haven’t actually contributed much to productivity on that front. Suffice to say I will never go full Noah Calhoun from The Notebook and build a house as an outlet and coping mechanism if and when I lose one of the loves of my life. Though I can be a pretty positive asset from the sidelines, cheering on those breaking a heavy sweat and trying to keep morale high, maybe making some sort of beverage for the crew to help them cool off — a concoction with a light ABV kick to it to aid in calming frazzled nerves, but not to the point that one will be rendered incapable of operating heavy machinery or wielding a hammer.

I’m hesitant to even ask this question because I think I know the answer, but I choose to hold fast to some glimmer of overly optimistic hope: Is this going to need to be a deck, or will a simple Word Doc do?

Heavy sigh. Assuming this is non-negotiable?

Thought so. Doesn’t hurt to ask, I guess.

How many has it been so far this week? I have lost count. And completely blocked out the arduous experience of creating at least several of them. Have to keep some room to generate the content that goes into the presentation. Can’t be all bogged down by the presentation itself. Though I know it is important. Doesn’t mean I don’t hate it. Just like most important things that take effort but for which I have a non-existent amount of passion.

Yes, when it is ready we’ll share it around so you can put in some prologue and epilogue slides. We’d be completely lost without the holy triumvirate of a “why we’re here” in the upfront with a “timeline/next steps” and “thank you” to wrap up our creation that is liable if not likely to be met with more mind-numbing and frustrating feedback than you can shake a stick at.

We rockin’ this thing in Keynote or Google Slides?

If you say Powerpoint I’m going to start weeping and curl up in the fetal position over in a corner of this here War Room, which I will point out yet again is not an apt term for a meeting room set aside for marketing purposes, even if we are arguably engaging in the production of something close to propaganda. It is starting to smell like what I imagine a World War I trench would, though. We add another late-night pizza to the mix and it might start to become noxious.

No. We’re not doing Powerpoint. Absolutely not. I’m going to be adamant about that. You’ve got to stand for something or you’ll fall for anything. If it’s that important, you can figure out a way to transfer it over once we’re pencils down on this beast.

I don’t want to be negative, but that’s going to be another no. I most certainly do not have any idea how to merge a spreadsheet into this thing and I don’t have time to Google how to do it. I harbor a fear of crossing the streams like that anyway. It could do something like tear a hole in the fabric of the universe or open a portal to whatever circle of hell we all deserve to inhabit. You’ve got some kind of nerve. Bringing up Excel right after Powerpoint is frankly beyond the pale. Editable cells of any kind give me extreme agita. I’m not a goddamn accountant. I can’t even add without the assistance of my phone. I mean, are you actively trying to break me?

I know, I know. Sorry I’m being ornery. I’m not trying to shoot the messenger.

Of course it’s due tomorrow a.m. I’m not shocked and have adopted a suspension of disbelief when it comes to this project and, frankly, life in general. I’m no longer delusional enough to so boldly assume that we’d have an even nearly appropriate runway to get this done and done in a way we want or are proud of. We’ll just have to get as close to peak potential within the vacuum of possibility we’re unceremoniously caught up in.

Sure, I’ll crank out a finely crafted manifesto for this thing. Gotta have that deck theater if we’re gonna do one. To eschew that piece of the puzzle would be damn near blasphemous. I’ll type it up in maniacal, frenetic fashion here as soon as we finish our conversation. In a perfect world, I’d get to immerse myself in the product itself, along with the vibe and mindset of the targeted consumer — head to the nearest Home Depot and sit on a tractor, or go out in front of my building and start pulling some weeds, either of which I’d do with a few Busch Lights lubricating my gullet as I toiled. You know, go method with it.

But it’s far from a perfect world, so I guess I digress.

Home Depot is closed by now anyway.

And trying to pull weeds in an unsanctioned manner might be frowned upon, especially after dark, when people are wont to think I am either on shrooms, foraging for shrooms or both.

Which brings me to a woeful observation: We’re not technically getting paid to do this at this hour. One negative to the salaried payment format.

I probably should not have mentioned that. Not exactly going to foster a creative or productive environment, unless it lights a fire under our asses to get this done as quickly and efficiently as possible so we can do something like watch a couple of episodes of Everybody Loves Raymond with a dirty vodka martini, if we can muster up the energy to break out the cocktail shaker after such a slog of a full week packed into like two days, before falling into a fitful slumber during which we will likely dream about some of the aforementioned previously assembled decks we have blocked from our waking consciousness.

Jesus Christ. The fonts. The fonts. Where are the fucking fonts? Why are they not loading? I downloaded them but my machine refuses to implement them. Yes, I restarted. Multiple times. This is a disastrous commencement to these proceedings.

Alright. I’ve gotta get to work on this thing in earnest now. We’ll ping you when it’s ready for your eyes. Can you please ensure that somebody proofs it before it goes to client? Typos popping up when moving at this pace are something I can pretty much promise. And sure, we might miss one or two that worm their way into the final product, but perfection is a myth and who cares, we’re all gonna die anyway. None of this really matters.

Anyway, we’ll resurface in a few hours. Hang tight.

Okay, circling back here. We got something for you. I’ll caveat I’m not sure it’s gonna blow anyone’s hair back, necessarily, but here’s hoping it does the trick.

Really? You’re kidding right?

They pushed the meeting to next week?

And this just happened now?

Interesting.

Well, alright. Guess I’ll see you on the flip.

Thank science Taco Bell is still open. I gotta blow off some steam with a Crunchwrap Supreme at the cantina. Where everybody knows my name.