Am I the Crazy Person?

Buhster here, on the verge of committing herself to a mental institution...

At my old job, I often found myself asking the question - Am I the crazy person? Because all of the people around me seemed to think that the miscellaneousness that they were thrusting upon me was normal. So it made me think...gee, maybe it's not them. Maybe it's me. However, seeing as how many of the normal people who work there have either fled or are currently trying to flee, I was feeling pretty secure in the fact that I wasn't crazy.

Until today.

I don't find myself asking that question much at my new job. However, today I asked it over and over and over again beginning bright and early at 8:20 a.m.

So here's what happened:

• Three weeks ago, I called the photographer we use all the time (we'll call him Triflin' Poo or TP for short) to set up a photo shoot for today for a company big-wig. Made it clear that I needed him to do it at our office because of big-wig's schedule and that I would send him the specs for the shoot as they were very, very specific.
• E-mailed TP that same day to give him the specs for the shoot.
• Called earlier this week to confirm the appointment for today and asked if he got the e-mail with the specs.
• E-mailed the specs again after he claimed he never got it.
• Got an e-mail LAST NIGHT from TP saying he JUST OPENED the e-mail and thinks it would be easier to do the shoot at his studio.
• Call him to tell him that's impossible with big-wig's schedule. He agrees to come to our office.
  
• TP shows up 15 minutes late and takes another 15 minutes to park. Meanwhile, with the help of two co-workers, we're lugging all of his shit up the elevators.
• We finally get up to the conference room, and he says it's just too small to do the shot.
• I spend the next 45 minutes (after telling big-wig that we'll be delayed by about an hour) trying to find a new location.
• I finally find one, only to learn that TP has realized that he forgot his battery packs, which means he has to go back to his studio to get them. He says it'll "only take 20 minutes."
  

Asshole, I didn't have 20 minutes, 20 minutes ago!

At this point, I was forced to cancel the shoot because I couldn't keep pushing back the schedule on the big-wig.

Seriously, am I the crazy person?

Was it too much to ask that he read his fucking e-mails? Was it too much to ask that a "professional photographer" actually remember to bring all of his equipment?

And while all of this was going on, he had the audacity to say to me over and over again, "I wish I could've talked you into doing this at my studio."

Bitch, you might have been able to talk me into it 3 weeks ago, but not the morning of the shoot. Had you read your fucking e-mails, we wouldn't be in this situation.

Say cheese, asshole. This is me taking a mental picture of the last time I'll ever deal with someone as incompetent as you.