It’s almost the end of first quarter, and I’m not pacing well. Last year, I gave myself some rather lofty 1Q goals: read four books, lose five pounds, spend less money, and start looking less like a hobo. All of these goals, I believed, would help improve my first quarter profitability and drive ROI.
But quarter-end is almost here, and the outlook is grim. Over the last couple months, I read one book and gained two pounds. I spent $400 on movers who made me sit outside my new building and yell for cops. And after I started wearing furry boots as my primary footwear of choice (Uggs in the morning, Uggs in the evening, Uggs at suppertime…), my stock dropped even more.
I’ve started to notice the free-market consequences of my slide downhill. People won’t lend me money. My friends don’t call as much. Even my spam mail has gotten wind of my hard times: instead of sending me Viagra ads and invitations to bingo tourneys, I’m getting notifications about Vicodin to “help ease the pain.”
I’ve looked internally for the root cause of the problem. To cut costs, I shut down all my charitable activities. To improve cash flow, I started looking for under-the-table jobs on Craigslist. And to ensure that I am efficiently allocating my emotional capital, I evaluated my friendship investments. It seemed that maintaining relationships with some friends just wasn’t worth the hassle. During their performance reviews, I gave it to them straight: “I can’t deal with all your issues right now. You’re taking up too much of my time… I’m sorry, but I have to let you go.”
So, I’m going to fall short of 1Q expectations, penniless, friendless, and fat. To make matters worse, I got a call from an investor last night, who immediately started berating me about careless spending. Finally, she hinted that I could always resort to aggressive accounting practices to get through the quarter.
Thanks, Mom.
Life’s a bitch when you’re your own CEO.