Wake me when it's over and I'm on the beach with a glass of wine

Four times a year my company publishes a glossy, high end magazine which showcases homes I could never dream of buying – real swanky estates and mansions. It’s a big opportunity for the sales department to make some serious scratch and a big pain in the ass for me.

For there is one week, every 3 months, where my workload not only doubles, but triples. This makes my blood pressure creep up, and my temper flare because even though the deadline for selling ads AND getting materials in to me has PASSED, new ads are still being sold. I will tell the sales team that we are at (x) amount of pages and have (x) amount of ad space open, and they will sell double that amount.

So right now, I have 7 days to build approximately 45 ads, not counting the 40 page regular weekly newspaper I ALSO HAVE TO BUILD during that same 7 days. To make matters worse, most of those 45 ads HAVE NO AD MATERIALS YET.

Last time I went through this I was close to snapping. My employers had promised me help from other staff members if I got really buried. When said burial came, and I asked for help, I was told none could be given because the other artists were too busy. I worked weekends for 3 weeks and nights for one week, and got the whole thing done single-handed without ONE FREAKING MISTAKE in the ENTIRE MAGAZINE. My reward for all this hard work and dedication? I got a fist pump from my boss.

A fist pump.

Another wrinkle in this week is I leave for vacation the day after this magazine goes to the printer. However, our regular weekly publication still needs to be produced, and my employers haven’t trained anyone to do it. I’m supposed to train someone next week.


I not only have to build upwards of 114 ads, design 2 covers and 3 editorials (all of which need photos taken for them) but I also have to train someone to do every aspect of my job which took me 11 years to master.

I just made myself nauseous. I think I can expect a lot of phone calls during vacation.