We rode on horses made of sticks
There is something about being in a funk that is... compounding. The people you are cheering for lose, you start losing every game you play, and the words I can't loom so near. Something about it is also appealing though, some part of me just wishes the streak would never end. Maybe then I'd have an excuse to quit, or I'd be such a tragic character that people may shower me with attention.
Being a manager is a tough gig, unless you're not human. I sympathize with my lackeys and I hate to pressure them and I'd rather foster them instead of criticising. Having to talk to them about disciplinary action is part of what I signed up for, though. I want them to succeed.
