So this was an aggravating day of general business frustration. (Notice how skillfully, not to say clunkily, I include the title’s main words — yea, verily: all the words — for the pointless benefit of Google’s search engines? Thank you, oh, thank you, dear Lord Google, for improving our writing style and making us all sound like talking bots.)
High on today’s list of tasks to accomplish was to post the writing tome’s body copy and cover copy to the printer’s website and order up a set of page proofs. This chore, I expected, would occupy an hour, maybe at the outside two hours.
It consumed the entire frigging day! Started on that around 10 a.m., having returned from this morning’s bidness meeting (does Google’s search-bot perceive “bidness” as a synonym for “business”?) and having completed a few chores so small they don’t rank high enough to get on the Whiteboard List, I loaded up the PoD guy’s site and began the rather simple task of uploading content.
1. Convert the Wyrd file to PDF (already done) and upload the file to the order page.
2. Go through the file for one last proofread.
3. Fix the few remaining issues.
4. Convert the Wyrd file again to PDF and re-upload the PDF.
5. Go through the file for one last, last proofread.
6.Convert the Wyrd file again to PDF and re-upload the PDF. Shirk the duty of proofing it again.
7. Upload a PDF (or is it a JPEG??) of the wrap-around cover. Make minor adjustments in size and position.
8. Submit; pay money.
9. Order one (1) set of page proofs.
Does this look hard?
Well, no. It doesn’t LOOK hard. And I don’t suppose it would be hard, if things went according to plan.
1. Go through the file for one last proofread…
Discover that in a paragraph urging readers to be sure to hire a copyeditor before inflicting their golden words upon the world, the word “your” appears as “you r.”
Far more annoying, several diagrams that came across just fine from Wyrd into the PDFs have somehow corrupted. Three of the five graphics are fucking trashed.
Fix the typo and a couple of other small issues. Then try to figure out what’s wrong with the artwork. After several re-conversions to PDF and then several hours spent rebuilding the (damned complicated!) diagrams, there is no way on God’s green earth I can figure out why the images are corrupted and what I can do to fix them. The new, upgraded versions come across even MORE distorted than the originals.
2. Giving up on this effort, along about three in the afternoon I decide at least to upload the cover.
Can’t remember whether they require a PDF (think so) or a JPEG (which of course would make sense). Upload a PDF. Result: a wide white border all around the painfully, tediously constructed, elaborate wrap-around cover.
Try uploading a JPEG. Result: nothing.
Wrestle with the PDF. Can NOT get the uploaded image to quit appearing inside a wide white border.
Screw with this several times but have no luck.
Decide to try re-uploading the content PDF, in hopes that maybe refreshing that page will let it upload the rebuilt images.
It was after 5:00 by the time I decided to give up wrangling this stuff. But along about then, as I was closing out of the PoD outfit’s page, I noticed the cover had mysteriously uploaded, as if on its own or by mental telepathy, in such a way as to look almost normal.
Must be Cox’s wondrously expensive new modem/router is SO DAMN SLOW that it takes not seconds, not minutes, but large fractions of an hour to complete a transaction.
So that was a bit of a frustration.
This morning’s business breakfast in lovely mid-town Scottsdale was a bit of a frustration, too.
You know, I’ve never much cared for First Watch, not since the first bloom of the business faded. So it was not with much joy that I greeted news that our meetin’ place of lo! these many years, a dowdy Good Egg, was to be consumed by the not-much-less dowdy First Watch. Trepidation, indeed, you might say: not joy.
And those trepidations have proven prophetic. The new management has decided serving up a weekly breakfast to a group of 12 does not meet their definition of profitability. So they’ve been pressuring us to move on for quite some time. First thing they did was move our meeting table (which occupied a part of a semi-private back room) and stuff us into uncomfortable bench seating. Then they took our favorite waitress away and gave us airheads in her place. They changed the menu, but as one would expect, it’s no better than any other lovely American breakfast menu: oversalted, oversugared, and overgreased.
While I was sick, the group tentatively tried out a Denny’s, a store whose location would add another two miles to my already annoying drive into the blinding early a.m. glare.
Really, I do not like Denny’s. I haven’t been back to Denny’s in years, not since the time that they served me a cup of coffee in a mug with some woman’s bright red lipstick print stuck to the rim. When I asked for a clean cup, they refused to give me one!!!!!
So I do not relish meeting at Denny’s.
But it probably doesn’t matter, because I rarely order anything at the Good Egg/First Watch. Eggs make me vomit instantly, and overall I don’t care for foods that are mushy and sweet or that are oversalted. That pretty much lets out…
• Bacon & eggs
• Ham and eggs
• Oatmeal as served in US restaurants
• Gooey sugary yogurt “parfaits”
• Pancakes made of undercooked commercial mix and topped with gooey sticky stuff
• Cottage fries drenched in salt
• And…you name it.
Their coffee’s so bad it’s undrinkable So that leaves one with…well…a glass of water.
Today’s service was so bad and the seating so uncomfortable that we decided enough was enough. We planned to meet at Denny’s next week.
This of course entailed my tracking down Denny’s management and confirming that our band of merry robbers could meet there next week, making a reservation, and sending out a notice to the membership. And that elicited a suggestion from the Boss Man that really, really despite my peevishness I should let First Watch let we would not be there next week.
That is because he is a nice man and I am not a nice woman. I personally feel that their not even bothering to have set up our table this morning is a perfectly fine reason not to bother to inform them that we will not be there next Thursday.
And therein lies the difference between a gentleman and the Wicked Bitch of the West…
Discussed the e-book with Wonder E-book Fomatter. The elaborate graphics have him pulling out what little remains of his hair, too. Not only do the images make him crazy (he’s actually got those down pat), he hates loathes and despises footnotes, which generate layer on layer on layer of extra work for him. He tortured himself by counting the damn things, leading him to point out — four or five times — that I’ve inserted 88 notes in the thing. I suggested he simply substitute links; this elicited a lengthy disquisition on what a PITA that is.
Life is a PITA.
It is now after dark. I haven’t walked the dogs. Yea verily, I haven’t walked the dogs in many days. They grow frustrated; I grow fat.
Oh well. Things could be worse. Our honored Clown in Chief could, for example, launch us into an open war with Syria, for example….
That oughta up his approval rating amongst the ones born every day…