A sign of the times. We get most of the notices for our jobs in the local daily Journal of Commerce. Lately there hasn't been shit. But the foreclosures now pretty much spread out over our whole conference table. We don't confer much in here anymore. Oh, I guess there's the ocassional meeting with our accountant to tell us how bad it is. Not a good room to commit suicide in necessarily. the windows don't open up and if they did you would plummet only 3 feet to a bruising and possibly smattering of goose crap on the ground below. I suppose you could shoot yourself but I don't own a gun. If my mood doesn't improve I'm guessing someone will perhaps do that for me.
Only consolation is that the other firms in town, all the hoity-toity, whoopte-doo architectis are losing work too. Guess the design awards and coffee table books will be a little slimmer this year. Too bad. I was getting tired of looking at the same shit anyway. Hey, have a great day - and don't take any wooden nickels. I think we ain't seen nothin' yet. GDII - bring it on.
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