Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
azurelunatic) wrote2014-05-08 09:30 pm
azurelunatic) wrote2014-05-08 09:30 pm
Vulture, no vulching!
The hella morning meeting did not raid the pastry that I brought for it, so I left it on the collaboration table (well, my Overlady did, because she had more hands than I did at that moment) and poked both the local-team email list (breaking it in after the Stage Manager's inaugural message) and announcing store-bought pastry near my desk to #cupcake.
Shortly thereafter, two representatives of #cupcake came tapping at my cubicle door, arriving more or less simultaneously in search of pastry. I escorted them over to the table. Purple headed off with a pastry to his meeting. lb and I wandered back in the general direction of my cube, where we had one of those conversations which is much more often two women, one of whom is warning the other about a man.
After that I banged my head against LiveScribe and OneNote basically until lunchtime.
"See over there? They have an IM demo set up."
"Mrrr."
"I'm sure you have a lot of questions."
"Real questions? No. Troll questions, on the other hand..."
"Heh."
So I popped over to say hello to the guys, and the nearest dude and Purple and I had a rousing conversation about many of the varied forms of communication that aren't really covered by the new chat thing. Particularly the general IRC channel, which covers topics like "Dude, what's with the network today?", "Hey, I'm working on such-and-such a thing, anybody know an expert whose brain I can pick?" and "...the FUCK is the cafeteria even smoking, man?!?!" Also the various multidisciplinary side channels, like good ol' #cupcake, and email lists such as vultures@, and my quiet encouragement of semi-official use of same by event planners with leftovers.
Then I scrammed off to the conference meeting, which was productive. Then there was the team meeting.
When we learned we were moving, and approximately when, the Stage Manager and I got together and had a conference room canceling-and-booking party. "Sometime mid-April" was pretty vague, so we decided we'd start booking rooms in the other building starting in May. The Stage Manager bagged a nice big room for the team meeting and told me what the deal was -- the somewhat smaller room May through July, and then bigger room starting August. So I updated the invitation with the room number he told me.
We arrived at the room. It was rated for 14 people. The team has become larger than it was when we were used to cramming into this room to do the weekly standup. It was basically miserable. It was so hot that Researcher Sweatervest took off his sweatervest. At the end, my grandmanager tasked me with finding out who held the larger nearby room and asking to trade, and he was willing to throw in a case or two of wine because seriously.
I went back to my desk and sat down and discovered that the reservation on the larger room was held by the Stage Manager. After I finished swearing, I tracked down the email where the Stage Manager had told me what room he'd booked for the team meeting. Sure enough, there was a typo in it. He'd given me the number of the smaller room, but booked the allegedly bigger one. (The allegedly bigger one says it seats 8, but the map shows bigger than the one that says it seats 14.) So I replied to that email with the good news and a summary of how it had come to be.
Then I stomped off to get more ice, and vaguely wept a little at Purple. At which point a random project manager cruised by and stuck his face in the office, I thought to talk to Purple but actually to talk to me about the morning's meeting, because I am a keeper of institutional knowledge. Whereupon I explained that the discrepancy between the words that I was saying and the words that "the lady across from [him]" was down to handwriting. (Argh. Dude, when the researcher says grab a cough drop, GRAB A FUCKING COUGH DROP.)
Purple had logistical questions about Saturday's shenanigans; I was vague. By that time I was starting to develop a headache. (If I also had to operate it, does that make me dev-ops?) Purple enjoyed Indexing. This is a good sign, and I shall start him on the Seanan books. He has read Foreigner, so I don't actually have to walk him through those as well.
Whee, transcription. My favorite.
Eventually it was time to go home. Purple chivvied me out of my desk and downstairs. In the light of the early evening, we fistbumped goodnight.
I called Kat on the way home. Yay being awake at the same time! Given that she offered to sew for me, I was the one who needed to kneel. I was driving, so I couldn't actually put my knees on the ground, but I did bend my knee that wasn't driving, so that all worked out. BRAINTWIN POWERS ACTIVATE. 280 continues to eat all kinds of cellphone signal.
Somehow Kat had missed that Darkside and Purple have the same name. This is hilarious.
Shortly thereafter, two representatives of #cupcake came tapping at my cubicle door, arriving more or less simultaneously in search of pastry. I escorted them over to the table. Purple headed off with a pastry to his meeting. lb and I wandered back in the general direction of my cube, where we had one of those conversations which is much more often two women, one of whom is warning the other about a man.
After that I banged my head against LiveScribe and OneNote basically until lunchtime.
"See over there? They have an IM demo set up."
"Mrrr."
"I'm sure you have a lot of questions."
"Real questions? No. Troll questions, on the other hand..."
"Heh."
So I popped over to say hello to the guys, and the nearest dude and Purple and I had a rousing conversation about many of the varied forms of communication that aren't really covered by the new chat thing. Particularly the general IRC channel, which covers topics like "Dude, what's with the network today?", "Hey, I'm working on such-and-such a thing, anybody know an expert whose brain I can pick?" and "...the FUCK is the cafeteria even smoking, man?!?!" Also the various multidisciplinary side channels, like good ol' #cupcake, and email lists such as vultures@, and my quiet encouragement of semi-official use of same by event planners with leftovers.
Then I scrammed off to the conference meeting, which was productive. Then there was the team meeting.
When we learned we were moving, and approximately when, the Stage Manager and I got together and had a conference room canceling-and-booking party. "Sometime mid-April" was pretty vague, so we decided we'd start booking rooms in the other building starting in May. The Stage Manager bagged a nice big room for the team meeting and told me what the deal was -- the somewhat smaller room May through July, and then bigger room starting August. So I updated the invitation with the room number he told me.
We arrived at the room. It was rated for 14 people. The team has become larger than it was when we were used to cramming into this room to do the weekly standup. It was basically miserable. It was so hot that Researcher Sweatervest took off his sweatervest. At the end, my grandmanager tasked me with finding out who held the larger nearby room and asking to trade, and he was willing to throw in a case or two of wine because seriously.
I went back to my desk and sat down and discovered that the reservation on the larger room was held by the Stage Manager. After I finished swearing, I tracked down the email where the Stage Manager had told me what room he'd booked for the team meeting. Sure enough, there was a typo in it. He'd given me the number of the smaller room, but booked the allegedly bigger one. (The allegedly bigger one says it seats 8, but the map shows bigger than the one that says it seats 14.) So I replied to that email with the good news and a summary of how it had come to be.
Then I stomped off to get more ice, and vaguely wept a little at Purple. At which point a random project manager cruised by and stuck his face in the office, I thought to talk to Purple but actually to talk to me about the morning's meeting, because I am a keeper of institutional knowledge. Whereupon I explained that the discrepancy between the words that I was saying and the words that "the lady across from [him]" was down to handwriting. (Argh. Dude, when the researcher says grab a cough drop, GRAB A FUCKING COUGH DROP.)
Purple had logistical questions about Saturday's shenanigans; I was vague. By that time I was starting to develop a headache. (If I also had to operate it, does that make me dev-ops?) Purple enjoyed Indexing. This is a good sign, and I shall start him on the Seanan books. He has read Foreigner, so I don't actually have to walk him through those as well.
Whee, transcription. My favorite.
Eventually it was time to go home. Purple chivvied me out of my desk and downstairs. In the light of the early evening, we fistbumped goodnight.
I called Kat on the way home. Yay being awake at the same time! Given that she offered to sew for me, I was the one who needed to kneel. I was driving, so I couldn't actually put my knees on the ground, but I did bend my knee that wasn't driving, so that all worked out. BRAINTWIN POWERS ACTIVATE. 280 continues to eat all kinds of cellphone signal.
Somehow Kat had missed that Darkside and Purple have the same name. This is hilarious.
no subject
*hands you screwdriver*
*the drink*
*also the tool*
*because it would make a better note-taking implement than Livescribe*
My profound sympathies. My employer (aka my mother) uses that thing too.
"...the FUCK is the cafeteria even smoking, man?!?!"
Tofu, I hope. It's delicious smoked.
no subject
Parts I like: syncing handwriting with audio. Parts I do not: basically everything else.
Salmon. Salmon is also good smoked.