I need it to be holidays. Now. I need to never look at another wedding invitation as long as I live. I need to kick the shit out of my printer like I’ve never kicked the shit out of anything before – and believe me, I’ve done some kicking.
This invitation design business isn’t an easy one. Well, the actual design business is – I love that bit. But when it comes to printing and finishing the things, something always seems to go wrong. Now, with 3 jobs to get out before Christmas, my printer has started outputting these weird stripes across everything. And it’s not likely that I’ll be able to get it fixed in time.
The most annoying bit about it is that wedding invitations generally come hand in hand with clients that are more than a little stressed. Some of them are great – and some of them need to be lined up next to the printer for the kick-fest.
I am so incredibly lucky to have Shaun. He spends half his day (it would seem) running around, pulling favours to try and get things sorted for me. But there’s only so much he can do. There are times when I just have to hand over a substandard job and hope that the recipient isn’t quite as pedantic as I am. But that’s not a good feeling.
It doesn’t help that the majority of this work is done in the evenings. Sometimes I’ll be up half the night only to have to give up when something goes wrong and I run out of stock. Then I spend significantly more of the night thinking about it before I get to sleep. I can see how people get reliant on sleeping pills. I’m not even going to go there. My addictive personality would just lap that up.
So on occasion there is just nothing that can be done. I have one client at the moment who’s job I got out last week. It looked great in the end, but it was a bitch to get there. She’s hard work. Then she gets in touch with me yesterday to say she’d made a mistake on 9 of the cards and needs them reprinted urgently. Well do you think my printer could once, just once, print out 9 little cards without something going wrong? Nope. Hell no.
Anyway, something’ll work out. I always seem to land on my feet. Well, aside from the times that I fall on my face.
But I tell you what, come next Saturday when the last job has gone out, I’m partying my ass off and then I’m partying some more.