I haven't quite decided how I feel about this little epiphany, but the closer we come to the end of our tenure as a Production Department, the more I hear of the plans being concocted for next year, the less I am inclined to morn the impending loss of 'my' magazines.
More and more, I look at the three designers who chose to remain, who interviewed successfully for the three available positions as Editorial Designers across our portfolio of titles, and I feel sorry them... they have no idea what they've let themselves in for, or how much better off they'd have been if they'd just thought ahead and decided to clear out.
Their new boss cannot adequately manage his existing (Editorial) staff, and has absolutely no idea how to manage Designers and their time. Three Designers will be tackling the work previously done by six. Sure, they won't be designing advertisements as well, but most of the time - knowing the Editors - they'll have nothing to do... and then the Editors will complain that so little of their work has been laid out when it all arrives, in bulk, two days before Press because they're so fucking lazy, they can't be bothered to get it ready before then.
The Publishing Director wants to switch to three Press Days a month, effectively doubling the workload on any given Press Day, and ensuring that two Designers will have to stay late every time. I have not yet dared consider how the workload will be split between Press Days... but, frankly, the Editorial page counts are so low, even in the larger magazines, most of the work can easily be done in the last two days before Press.
The Publishing Director has not considered how this affects the Advertising side of things... it's quite obvious she doesn't really care, either. It's in Norwich. It might as well be in India, for all she cares.
So... Farewell to my magazines, monthly lifestyle rags that I have loved for more than ten years...
...But to all those who remain...
...If you think things are going to get better for you, if you truly believe you have won a great opportunity... you are poor, deluded fools.
I cannot congratulate you.
I have not the heart to truly pity you.
Suckers.
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