Wind Officially Taken, No, Stolen, From Sails...

What right do they have to attack ME for going above and beyond my responsibilities at the Chamber, outside of MY regular work day at my gallery and studio, to create an advertisement FREE of charge and get them an unheard of rate of $800 for a half-page full color piece on the Eastside where people actually have the money to purchase sweat-shop crap in their over-priced stores when the regular price of such an ad would have been $3800.
No, it wasn't decided upon in an "official" merchants meeting.
No, I didn't have the ad proofed by the First Street Gestapo.
No, it doesn't have photos of THEIR stores in particular because their stores don't photograph well, nor does the rest of their precious First Street Clique.
No, it doesn't show the water. It was AT NIGHT to show the decoration of the town. Water appears quite black at night.


But to come into my workplace where there are visitors either walking in or one the phone, where I have a JOB to do to support their lazy asses - to come in an YELL at me at the top of their lungs, in front of my boss, for TEN FUCKING MINUTES...

I kept above-level, held my composure for eight minutes. Until they said that my ten years of design experience didn't show for much. Until they said that my designs were unprofessional, amateurish. Until they said Cynthia could have designed it better, when Cynthia's design was straight out of my Design 101 class years ago. Cynthia doesn't even own a fucking computer, let alone know how to use one to design an ad with a photo for print. She designs store fronts and window displays. Tactile hands on things. Not print ads. In those last two minutes I lost it. I burst into tears. I couldn't help it. They looked smuggly at each other and then sneered toward Loretta and marched out.
It was only after Loretta had politely asked them to keep their voices down while trying to help a potential visitor on the phone that Denise loudly yelled, quite intentionally as Loretta had just gotten back on the phone, "This is $800 we're talking about! I have a right to yell!"

No you don't. Don't you dare embarass me in front of my supervisor. Don't you dare ever come in my workplace again and yell at me. How would you like it if, miraculously you had customers in your store, and I came in and chewed your ass off and tore you a new one in front of all of your precious customers?

"Well, we don't have time to do this kind of thing, WE have businesses to run." They said when I proposed a new advertising campaign and volunteered to do all of the design and printing FOR THEM.
FUCK YOU.
I have two businesses to run, AND A JOB! That's three, count 'em, THREE jobs. And two don't even pay me. So Fuck You Very Much. If I have time to go well above and beyond my own responsibilities to try and BETTER this thanksless town, then you have time to help. You obviously had time to take out of your precious business days to come and attack me for a while.

THIS was uncalled for.

I will not be doing any more favors.