Wednesday: Meeting with broadcasting-related subsidiary, which agreed not to say no if any funding proposal were circulated to them for comment. I also secured permission to submit a proposal for screenfont testing. The problem was the remainder of the meeting, which culminated in my being told “fuck you” and frogmarched out of the building. I don’t have to work with people who do that sort of thing.
Friday: I appear for a social gathering at a well-known restaurant, ask the host and hostess about my party, and am told there is no such party. (There was never a name set up for the reservation, which did not exist in the first place. Nor did anyone leave a shoephone number. Nor did anyone tell the hostess to watch for stragglers.) I check next door. I come back and talk to them again. I walk around the entire restaurant and look at every table. I sit at the bar nursing a Coke Diète for 20 minutes, watching the front door. I leave, feeling like total shit, and, later, laboriously dig up the seriously buried, nearly-top-secret invitation to double-check the date and time. I was at the right place at the right time. And you know what? My “friends” had been there all the while, didn’t leave word with the hostess, never got up even once to look around for me, and for that matter never even looked up from their merrymaking to check if I’d showed up, even though it was inconceivable I wouldn’t.
If you’re wondering why I’m so sensitive (“I take the weather personally”), perhaps it is because I have very good reason. There’s always something people feel I deserve.