I am a thirty-something, moderately-functional fuck-up. I come from a very large family of fuck-ups. I have worked for a lot of companies that were fundamentally fucked-up. I live in Small Town Fucked-Up USA. I have known a lot of people that were fucked-up. If there was a PhD offered in fundamental, down-to-earth fuckupedness, I would have it in the bag once I came up with sufficient socially accepted synonyms to muddle my way through my dissertation defense.
I have made a small career in fixing limited amounts of dysfunction in the financial world (obviously not enough, but I digress). But I believe the most important thing that we survivors of terminal ineptitude can do is to share our experiences with the world; we must pass our knowledge on to others so that they may also survive.
The experience I will share is not all my own; I will not change names to protect the innocent or guilty. I am not a lawyer, an expert, or a paid therapist.
I am a fuck-up, a survivor.
Why do I have Destiny's Child running through my head now?
