Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
azurelunatic) wrote2006-08-23 05:30 am
azurelunatic) wrote2006-08-23 05:30 am
Entry tags:
LJ, where we blog about the color of our underwear
Of interest to the Academy: Jedi Mind Trick.
Things about work: Work got to hear me geeking out in action. It was me vs. the database and the long, long, LONG e-mail to Management about what I want to do with it to make things work right. It's nice when a whole lot of policies will automatically fix themselves with simply enforcing one little thing. I wound up getting someone else who had access to the one system log in and get me a chunk of data I needed, which I then uploaded to the DB. Huge little chunk of data. Hurts thinking about it.
Grandma Cinderella Supervisor wanted to know when I was coming back to the team, and if I was coming back or if she'd have to snag someone and train them up. I assured her that I would be when this was all done with -- and then got to thinking about it.
Aside from the friendslocked voice post issue that I've been thinking about, I really am better with computers and writing and analysis than I am with dealing with people in a supervisory capacity. And I got back with Grandma Cinderella, and I told her that I'd been thinking more deeply about it, and when it came right down to brass tacks, I do like computers better than I like interviewers, so if I am offered a place in the back somewhere, or full-time in training/ranking, then I'll jump for it.
She appreciated that I'd put thought into it, and said that she thought that I'd make an excellent assistant for Management. She went on, thinking that they could open up the cubicle that used to belong to the manager that got the Queen Bee's desk... of course, how likely is that all to happen? But it sounds like it would be a whole lot of interesting! And I am very good at being useful and all secretarial and stuff. When I was younger, my dream job was being a secretary. (Someone else is running the scene, and when that someone else knows what they are doing, that is ideal for a submissive. And then you have a whole lot of stuff to do to keep things busy and running smoothly, and everyone sees you and knows how important you are to the smooth functioning of it all, and appreciates you, and you get to smile and make things happen and make everybody happy.) It still wouldn't be too bad, provided I had something interesting to do.
The machine back in the training room is shite. Snarky Lady says that Turbo will be changing that, but I snagged a computer out in the bullpen and worked out there. It felt strangely naked. I enjoyed being back out there, though.
My bullpen cohorts got exposed to the strangeness that is me in full geek mode for the first time in a row. Homie G was a little weirded out, especially the parts where I was talking to myself and the computer, and alternately crooning sweet things to the machine and crooning delicate little threats to the machine. Things like "oooo, you're so sweet, I'm going to reprogram you with a machete, yes I am! Oooooo..."
The disturbing eventually got so bad that he just said that I should let them know if I was saying anything that needed a response. It didn't, not really. But I got things started in a good direction. Next thing to do is work on quarter stuff, and then work on getting things automated.
I've been all happy-singy-in-love lately. It goes in bits and fits and starts, but it's always nice when I can have good geeking sessions with my best friend in this or any universe. (I could search several more universes, and I still don't think I'd find a better best friend, even though the one I've got has ... erm ... derangements.) It makes me dance and smile and stuff.
I wore my purple top overtop of my top today (Light cotton V-neck sweater, in black, with a long-sleeved purple jacket/vest with one button at the front on top of the black sweater) and my hair up in a claw-clasp. My stockings were blue, as that was what came out of the sock bin first. I was fielding compliments all day long about how that was really one of my colors, it looked so good on me, I should do this more often.
The last one of the day came from one fellow on $OTHER_SIDE_JOB, an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and a mustache, who sometimes wears a magenta polo shirt and always gets extra females even when Trendy Chick tells him that females are closed. He mentioned how I should wear color more often.
"Most of the time when I wear color, no one else ever gets to see it," I mentioned.
He always has to have the last word, but that situation defied any of the last words he was thinking of. He stammered something and jetted out of there fast, before anyone could say anything else.
My fellow supervisors in the bullpen started cracking up almost so hard they fell off the chairs. It's not every day that one sees Magenta Polo Shirt Guy at a complete loss for words.
Though it was rather late for it, I adopted a tone of injured innocence. "I could have been talking about my days off!" I protested, and pointed out that I do own at least one pink shirt. My co-workers allowed as how that was so...
It probably would have been too distressing to all of us to point out that my underpants matched the shirt and shoes that $OTHER_SIDE_JOB Supervisor (the Pink Lady, only today she was wearing screaming chartreuse) was wearing. So I didn't say that to them.
Things about work: Work got to hear me geeking out in action. It was me vs. the database and the long, long, LONG e-mail to Management about what I want to do with it to make things work right. It's nice when a whole lot of policies will automatically fix themselves with simply enforcing one little thing. I wound up getting someone else who had access to the one system log in and get me a chunk of data I needed, which I then uploaded to the DB. Huge little chunk of data. Hurts thinking about it.
Grandma Cinderella Supervisor wanted to know when I was coming back to the team, and if I was coming back or if she'd have to snag someone and train them up. I assured her that I would be when this was all done with -- and then got to thinking about it.
Aside from the friendslocked voice post issue that I've been thinking about, I really am better with computers and writing and analysis than I am with dealing with people in a supervisory capacity. And I got back with Grandma Cinderella, and I told her that I'd been thinking more deeply about it, and when it came right down to brass tacks, I do like computers better than I like interviewers, so if I am offered a place in the back somewhere, or full-time in training/ranking, then I'll jump for it.
She appreciated that I'd put thought into it, and said that she thought that I'd make an excellent assistant for Management. She went on, thinking that they could open up the cubicle that used to belong to the manager that got the Queen Bee's desk... of course, how likely is that all to happen? But it sounds like it would be a whole lot of interesting! And I am very good at being useful and all secretarial and stuff. When I was younger, my dream job was being a secretary. (Someone else is running the scene, and when that someone else knows what they are doing, that is ideal for a submissive. And then you have a whole lot of stuff to do to keep things busy and running smoothly, and everyone sees you and knows how important you are to the smooth functioning of it all, and appreciates you, and you get to smile and make things happen and make everybody happy.) It still wouldn't be too bad, provided I had something interesting to do.
The machine back in the training room is shite. Snarky Lady says that Turbo will be changing that, but I snagged a computer out in the bullpen and worked out there. It felt strangely naked. I enjoyed being back out there, though.
My bullpen cohorts got exposed to the strangeness that is me in full geek mode for the first time in a row. Homie G was a little weirded out, especially the parts where I was talking to myself and the computer, and alternately crooning sweet things to the machine and crooning delicate little threats to the machine. Things like "oooo, you're so sweet, I'm going to reprogram you with a machete, yes I am! Oooooo..."
The disturbing eventually got so bad that he just said that I should let them know if I was saying anything that needed a response. It didn't, not really. But I got things started in a good direction. Next thing to do is work on quarter stuff, and then work on getting things automated.
I've been all happy-singy-in-love lately. It goes in bits and fits and starts, but it's always nice when I can have good geeking sessions with my best friend in this or any universe. (I could search several more universes, and I still don't think I'd find a better best friend, even though the one I've got has ... erm ... derangements.) It makes me dance and smile and stuff.
I wore my purple top overtop of my top today (Light cotton V-neck sweater, in black, with a long-sleeved purple jacket/vest with one button at the front on top of the black sweater) and my hair up in a claw-clasp. My stockings were blue, as that was what came out of the sock bin first. I was fielding compliments all day long about how that was really one of my colors, it looked so good on me, I should do this more often.
The last one of the day came from one fellow on $OTHER_SIDE_JOB, an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and a mustache, who sometimes wears a magenta polo shirt and always gets extra females even when Trendy Chick tells him that females are closed. He mentioned how I should wear color more often.
"Most of the time when I wear color, no one else ever gets to see it," I mentioned.
He always has to have the last word, but that situation defied any of the last words he was thinking of. He stammered something and jetted out of there fast, before anyone could say anything else.
My fellow supervisors in the bullpen started cracking up almost so hard they fell off the chairs. It's not every day that one sees Magenta Polo Shirt Guy at a complete loss for words.
Though it was rather late for it, I adopted a tone of injured innocence. "I could have been talking about my days off!" I protested, and pointed out that I do own at least one pink shirt. My co-workers allowed as how that was so...
It probably would have been too distressing to all of us to point out that my underpants matched the shirt and shoes that $OTHER_SIDE_JOB Supervisor (the Pink Lady, only today she was wearing screaming chartreuse) was wearing. So I didn't say that to them.
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In my teenage years, I wore flourescent colors all the time (mostly green, although one outfit was orange with multi-colored flourescent fish all over the slacks). I am sure I was an eye-sore. But I have toned it down a little in my later years. Plus it is a little more difficult to find those kinds of garments in the stores anymore, LOL. (And I can safely say that I DON'T have the coloring, but that never stopped me from trying.)
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I'm a Winter, so I could get away with it if I wanted to. I usually don't want to these days, since colors that are not black are so hard to take care of, and I have very limited patience for laundry.
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...though one would have better luck with something written on the back, as the larger something is, the better chance it can be read through clothing.
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I want to work in a place where you can "get extra females" from a Trendy Chick (even if they ARE only granted occasionally, and even if warned that the females are "closed").
Color: Dusty blue, with little black dots.
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