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Rev. Not-So-Nice Super and his desire to have magic "proved" to him by making squirrel heads come out his butt cameos, except demanding a re-enactment from a Jim Carrey movie involving monkeys. In the semi-expected fashion of saying the line, then looking expectant, then demanding the re-enactment.
"I Just Wanna Kill People!"
Jun. 12th, 2006 03:15 amAs a spot of bright contrast to the recent OMFG moments at work, there was an amusing exchange involving Rev. Not-So-Nice Super's "I Just Want to Kill People!" song.
I learned that Trader Joe's Queen Monitor has never heard this song. I popped into the office, where the good Rev. was hanging out with the Princess as she did paperwork (and Trendy Chick was in there; a few others may have been as well) and pointed this out to him, thinking that he might emerge and share.
"If she hasn't, there's a reason!" he said. "Maybe she's on the list of people I want to kill."
The Princess looked mildly alarmed. "I've never heard it!" she said. "I want off that list!"
It was too good an opening. "So you want to be put on the 'Do Not Kill' list?" I asked.
The one guy with the iPod keeps getting busted using it at work. I have taken to coming up and saying "Busted!" I had to say so at least twice today. I need to start writing him up or something. I broke out my Frickin' Clue Bat and stood with it at the end of the area for a while, much to the helpless laughter of the girl sitting next to him.
I learned that Trader Joe's Queen Monitor has never heard this song. I popped into the office, where the good Rev. was hanging out with the Princess as she did paperwork (and Trendy Chick was in there; a few others may have been as well) and pointed this out to him, thinking that he might emerge and share.
"If she hasn't, there's a reason!" he said. "Maybe she's on the list of people I want to kill."
The Princess looked mildly alarmed. "I've never heard it!" she said. "I want off that list!"
It was too good an opening. "So you want to be put on the 'Do Not Kill' list?" I asked.
The one guy with the iPod keeps getting busted using it at work. I have taken to coming up and saying "Busted!" I had to say so at least twice today. I need to start writing him up or something. I broke out my Frickin' Clue Bat and stood with it at the end of the area for a while, much to the helpless laughter of the girl sitting next to him.
Work tends to leave me feeling exhausted and drained, sometimes, no matter what kind of a day I had.
Today was an eleven hour shift (for me) featuring two dialer crashes, followed up by an invasion of IT guys taking over the network at 6pm. On the other hand, now pretty much everyone in the building knows how to get on the OMG DIALER DOWNTIME contingency screen in our automated timeclock. They have also gotten experience dialing the old-fashioned way: by hand. Get the next record from the queue, turn on your bloody phone, dial, hang up after 4 rings, get a new record, repeat.
To improve morale, I stalked up and down my areas in the Darth Vader mask for a few minutes, causing some of the phone goons to go into near-hyperventilating states of laughter.
Stressy College Chick doesn't think I caused the first crash.
I got to write up the dialer crash e-mails. I also had a chance to work on my Unified Field Spreadsheet, which is going to virtually eliminate the time working up the individual end-of-shift job status forms, because all the information that goes on the status winds up going on what has been dubbed the TPS report. (There was an Office Space-inspired practical joke phase where people kept telling other people that they'd have to start filling out TPS reports/accusing them of not doing theirs and getting scolded for it; this was followed up by a new spreadsheet to fill out. Since it didn't have much of a name, it got dubbed the TPS report.) I think I shall call it the UnF Spreadsheetfor spr0t for short. (Pervs. ;)
Vocabulary word of the day (week?) at work: "defiant". Stressy College Chick called Rev. Not-So-Nice Supervisor defiant, then realized that she didn't really have a good grasp on what it meant. So she asked me. I explained. She concluded that yes, he is, and it's a damn cool word to boot!
Today Rev. Not-so-nice super started attempting to track Trendy Chick's cussing. He spaced it after a while, but before he stopped counting, she'd cussed about 19 times, not counting "pissed off" and a few other things.
I shall call the new trainee supervisor who has the same initials as I do "AL", because while those aren't my actual meatspace initials, they're my initials online. Oddly enough, while I respond to my meatspace initials, I don't react the same way to "AL". So, she will be AL for the moment. No, there is no Sam. (...Nor Captain what's-his-face./Nor Frodo. ...though at one point there was thought of calling Homie G Super "Sam" and Cute Short Chick's brother "Frodo", and I made![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
othercat totally giggle by suggesting supervisor RPS, which was just wrong.)
Tomorrow may be a doughnuts/muffins morning.
I have been cleaning my iTunes and re-finding music that had the files moved without leaving a forwarding address. Much happiness. Lots of my R.E.M. got lost in the shuffle, and I've been slowly but surely re-finding it. These songs are essential to me.
Morning happens soon. I go bed.
Today was an eleven hour shift (for me) featuring two dialer crashes, followed up by an invasion of IT guys taking over the network at 6pm. On the other hand, now pretty much everyone in the building knows how to get on the OMG DIALER DOWNTIME contingency screen in our automated timeclock. They have also gotten experience dialing the old-fashioned way: by hand. Get the next record from the queue, turn on your bloody phone, dial, hang up after 4 rings, get a new record, repeat.
To improve morale, I stalked up and down my areas in the Darth Vader mask for a few minutes, causing some of the phone goons to go into near-hyperventilating states of laughter.
Stressy College Chick doesn't think I caused the first crash.
I got to write up the dialer crash e-mails. I also had a chance to work on my Unified Field Spreadsheet, which is going to virtually eliminate the time working up the individual end-of-shift job status forms, because all the information that goes on the status winds up going on what has been dubbed the TPS report. (There was an Office Space-inspired practical joke phase where people kept telling other people that they'd have to start filling out TPS reports/accusing them of not doing theirs and getting scolded for it; this was followed up by a new spreadsheet to fill out. Since it didn't have much of a name, it got dubbed the TPS report.) I think I shall call it the UnF Spreadsheet
Vocabulary word of the day (week?) at work: "defiant". Stressy College Chick called Rev. Not-So-Nice Supervisor defiant, then realized that she didn't really have a good grasp on what it meant. So she asked me. I explained. She concluded that yes, he is, and it's a damn cool word to boot!
Today Rev. Not-so-nice super started attempting to track Trendy Chick's cussing. He spaced it after a while, but before he stopped counting, she'd cussed about 19 times, not counting "pissed off" and a few other things.
I shall call the new trainee supervisor who has the same initials as I do "AL", because while those aren't my actual meatspace initials, they're my initials online. Oddly enough, while I respond to my meatspace initials, I don't react the same way to "AL". So, she will be AL for the moment. No, there is no Sam. (...Nor Captain what's-his-face./Nor Frodo. ...though at one point there was thought of calling Homie G Super "Sam" and Cute Short Chick's brother "Frodo", and I made
othercat totally giggle by suggesting supervisor RPS, which was just wrong.) Tomorrow may be a doughnuts/muffins morning.
I have been cleaning my iTunes and re-finding music that had the files moved without leaving a forwarding address. Much happiness. Lots of my R.E.M. got lost in the shuffle, and I've been slowly but surely re-finding it. These songs are essential to me.
Morning happens soon. I go bed.
Day off yay!
Apr. 26th, 2006 04:45 amShawn called twice while I was at work. I called back when I was walking home, and we had a grand old chat about the comic and stuff until he was about out of minutes. We ran down my battery. Good times. Damn good times.
... I like being a muse. He had two ways for something to go, and was torn between them, and when he was laying out the scene for the setup for the decision point, I saw a third way it could go, and I shared it with him. He was torn three ways. I was evidently supposed to make the choice easier, not harder.
He and I belong creatively teamed, and it's good that we're talking again.
I wound up in #lj_s sometime after that, and life was good. Life is very good. It's like coming home, to go there. If I'm awake but not otherwise occupied, odds are I'll probably be there.
Monday was an extra shift at work, on the phones. Tuesday was the regular shift, 12-7, except at the stroke of 7 I was still trying to get one lastbozo phone goon monitored. This was the fellow who is not at all cool but thinks he is. He's also not at all competent, but thinks he is, and hurtly contests each time we tell him it ain't so. I had to rewind the tape to reconstruct the phone conversation.
Homie G. wished we'd made a dub of the Mike JONES! incident. Evidently this character is now Rev. Not-So-Nice Super's new hero. I was really tempted to take the tape and create an .mp3 using super-advanced cellphone technology. I didn't. I resisted the urge.
After I was done with the bloody monitor report, I helped the Check-In Princess close up the job and clean up and get paperwork and distribution done. I was eventually out of there around 9:45. Lots of paperwork. There are new trainees now, as the one fellow quit to pursue a more musical career. I hope to be seeing him succeed; he deserves that.
Metal Dave thinks that supervisory stuff is rather high-stress, what with all the things that have to be done at once. I think I have to agree with him.
I used the phrase "uphill both ways in the snow" to describe why we mere trainees mayn't have the use of the shiny spreadsheets that the more senior supervisors use to figure the job and all that nasty-bad stuff.
I did the booths out report tonight. Yay booths out. Corrupt files, 18 instances of a trojan deleted so what should we do now, just continue?, a missing F1 key, a dodgy number pad, a headset that Grandma Cinderella can't hear me over when I say "Hola, me nombre es Joan Lunatic..." when calling the bullpen from a random booth, a phone that was set to pulse and not tone, ten booths who can't talk to the domain controller right, and some dodgy telnets. And more.
I'm going to be sleeping in. Seriously sleeping in. Then I have some laundry to attend to, some dishes to put away, and some plasma to share with those more in need of it than my perkily healthy self. By that time I'll be late for writing group.
My desire for performing in any type of leadership capacity during my leisure time has gone absolutely rock-bottom. Will discuss at more length with people once more coherent.
... I like being a muse. He had two ways for something to go, and was torn between them, and when he was laying out the scene for the setup for the decision point, I saw a third way it could go, and I shared it with him. He was torn three ways. I was evidently supposed to make the choice easier, not harder.
He and I belong creatively teamed, and it's good that we're talking again.
I wound up in #lj_s sometime after that, and life was good. Life is very good. It's like coming home, to go there. If I'm awake but not otherwise occupied, odds are I'll probably be there.
Monday was an extra shift at work, on the phones. Tuesday was the regular shift, 12-7, except at the stroke of 7 I was still trying to get one last
Homie G. wished we'd made a dub of the Mike JONES! incident. Evidently this character is now Rev. Not-So-Nice Super's new hero. I was really tempted to take the tape and create an .mp3 using super-advanced cellphone technology. I didn't. I resisted the urge.
After I was done with the bloody monitor report, I helped the Check-In Princess close up the job and clean up and get paperwork and distribution done. I was eventually out of there around 9:45. Lots of paperwork. There are new trainees now, as the one fellow quit to pursue a more musical career. I hope to be seeing him succeed; he deserves that.
Metal Dave thinks that supervisory stuff is rather high-stress, what with all the things that have to be done at once. I think I have to agree with him.
I used the phrase "uphill both ways in the snow" to describe why we mere trainees mayn't have the use of the shiny spreadsheets that the more senior supervisors use to figure the job and all that nasty-bad stuff.
I did the booths out report tonight. Yay booths out. Corrupt files, 18 instances of a trojan deleted so what should we do now, just continue?, a missing F1 key, a dodgy number pad, a headset that Grandma Cinderella can't hear me over when I say "Hola, me nombre es Joan Lunatic..." when calling the bullpen from a random booth, a phone that was set to pulse and not tone, ten booths who can't talk to the domain controller right, and some dodgy telnets. And more.
I'm going to be sleeping in. Seriously sleeping in. Then I have some laundry to attend to, some dishes to put away, and some plasma to share with those more in need of it than my perkily healthy self. By that time I'll be late for writing group.
My desire for performing in any type of leadership capacity during my leisure time has gone absolutely rock-bottom. Will discuss at more length with people once more coherent.
workplace fun of the wilder sort
Apr. 23rd, 2006 02:19 pmTalking about Guy Stuff in voices audible in the areas and into the monitor rooms.
Rev. Not-So-Nice Super is shooting rubber bands at people.
... The good Rev. Not-So-Nice Super just shot a rubberband into area 9 from the check-in desk area of the bullpen. He riccocheted it off the ceiling.
...
...yeah.
"Mike Jones" is afraid he's going to get canned. I don't blame him, because he is actually in danger of that. Talking about where to get crack with a teenage respondent? Oh, yeah.
I am on too much coffee. Or something. I made a fresh pot of it for the workplace.
Dude is really not sitting in his booth very much. Kneeling on the chair and spinning it.
I can let it slide for the rest of the hour, maybe.
...or maybe not.
Rev. Not-So-Nice Super is shooting rubber bands at people.
... The good Rev. Not-So-Nice Super just shot a rubberband into area 9 from the check-in desk area of the bullpen. He riccocheted it off the ceiling.
...
...yeah.
"Mike Jones" is afraid he's going to get canned. I don't blame him, because he is actually in danger of that. Talking about where to get crack with a teenage respondent? Oh, yeah.
I am on too much coffee. Or something. I made a fresh pot of it for the workplace.
Dude is really not sitting in his booth very much. Kneeling on the chair and spinning it.
I can let it slide for the rest of the hour, maybe.
...or maybe not.
Step on a crack / Mike JOOOOONNNNES!
Apr. 22nd, 2006 02:48 pmMorning began with a rousing debate about freedom of speech. Dear Rev. Not-So-Nice Super and the fellow with the Groucho Marx eyebrows concurred that if banning lesbians, even hot lesbians, from the airwaves meant that they would never be exposed to gay men, they'd do it in a heartbeat. Even in movies that they had no intention of watching.
...Those wacky heterosexuals. And that's what I said. "You wacky heterosexuals."
Punching out the wacky heterosexual co-workers bad.
Comic Pirate Super pointed out that Brokeback Mountain is a bestseller. Ha-ha.
"Burning resentment" is probably not the best emotion to have. Trendy Chick thinks that it would make a good song title.
Thank you, obnoxious phone goon who won't read the survey as written.
"Mike Jones" is here and alive and has behaved himself so far.
(Backstory: Evidently there's this rap artist named Mike Jones. Since I am not a particular listener of rap music, I missed this, and have only been exposed to the stylings of Mr. Jones by means of my co-workers intermittently moaning out "Mike JOOOOOOOONNNNES!" as if it has some particular meaning or other. This has come to be a sort of workplace cliché of some sort -- almost any occasion can be livened up by someone hollering "Mike JONES!")
Yesterday, "the kid", one of the newer interviewers, took it into his head to introduce himself as "Mike JOOOOONNNNES", in that exact same intonation. Identical intonation on the identical name is either a conspiracy or a meme. He was the one who was also talking with a teen about crack and where to find it (evidently Circle K is a hotspot, which does not surprise me).
His monitor report today indicated that he'd calmed down a lot overnight. Not surprising when you've just earned the worst score in the building.
May not write "wackiness ensued" as part of a monitor report.
Even with "Mike Jones".
(Respondent was being a dick. One of the common ways of being a dick on $ISSUE_SIDE_JOB is claiming that teens live, or lived, in the household, but making implausible and/or illegal claims about their whereabouts and/or fate. This dick was claiming that he'd sent the teen(s) out for cigarettes and/or beer, and that he did not know when a good time to call back was, because the teen(s) had a meeting with their probation officer. "Mike" does not have enough experience in the way of twit respondents to deal with this effectively. Wackiness ensued. Even though I can't say so on the monitor report.)
...Those wacky heterosexuals. And that's what I said. "You wacky heterosexuals."
Punching out the wacky heterosexual co-workers bad.
Comic Pirate Super pointed out that Brokeback Mountain is a bestseller. Ha-ha.
"Burning resentment" is probably not the best emotion to have. Trendy Chick thinks that it would make a good song title.
Thank you, obnoxious phone goon who won't read the survey as written.
"Mike Jones" is here and alive and has behaved himself so far.
(Backstory: Evidently there's this rap artist named Mike Jones. Since I am not a particular listener of rap music, I missed this, and have only been exposed to the stylings of Mr. Jones by means of my co-workers intermittently moaning out "Mike JOOOOOOOONNNNES!" as if it has some particular meaning or other. This has come to be a sort of workplace cliché of some sort -- almost any occasion can be livened up by someone hollering "Mike JONES!")
Yesterday, "the kid", one of the newer interviewers, took it into his head to introduce himself as "Mike JOOOOONNNNES", in that exact same intonation. Identical intonation on the identical name is either a conspiracy or a meme. He was the one who was also talking with a teen about crack and where to find it (evidently Circle K is a hotspot, which does not surprise me).
His monitor report today indicated that he'd calmed down a lot overnight. Not surprising when you've just earned the worst score in the building.
May not write "wackiness ensued" as part of a monitor report.
Even with "Mike Jones".
(Respondent was being a dick. One of the common ways of being a dick on $ISSUE_SIDE_JOB is claiming that teens live, or lived, in the household, but making implausible and/or illegal claims about their whereabouts and/or fate. This dick was claiming that he'd sent the teen(s) out for cigarettes and/or beer, and that he did not know when a good time to call back was, because the teen(s) had a meeting with their probation officer. "Mike" does not have enough experience in the way of twit respondents to deal with this effectively. Wackiness ensued. Even though I can't say so on the monitor report.)
Things about being a supervisor:
Apr. 15th, 2006 01:39 am- No attempting to do a survey with a toilet.
- Training class never says anything about the death threats.
- No telling people whose households don't have teenagers how lucky they are.
- Evidently giving the finger to the phone after getting rid of a rude respondent contributes to my "cool supervisor" points.
- Phone goon thanked me for getting a minus changed from one point on the rating scale to another one, even though it was still a minus.
- That respondent has misunderstood the Do Not Call laws.
- Yes, you must speak to the parent before speaking to the kid. Even if the kid says "I'm old enough!" when answering the phone.
- If that respondent's cousin owned the company, that respondent's cousin would laugh at that respondent for complaining that you are not doing your job right. As it is, I have two words to say about the claim. The first one is 'bull'. The second one, I can't say on the call floor.
- No, you are not getting "all" the crazy respondents. You've only gotten like five. So has about everybody else.
- Just because the headset's little piece has come off does not mean that the headset is in fact broken.
- "Shaking hands" with Rev. Not-So-Nice Super involves a mannequin hand.
- If the headset is in fact broken, do not attempt to interview with it.
- Put your hand inside the puppet head.
- That irate respondent in Baltimore will not show up on your doorstep. This is Phoenix.
- Even when you think that microphone is off, it is probably not, and the monitor can hear you.
- Sometimes quitting and coming back a year or two or three down the road is the best career choice.
- Singing little songs for the monitors' amusement is not the best career choice.
- My elder clone's daughter who wants to be a witch is soo cuuuuuute. She reminded me of someone; I just now realized that it was actually onyxrising's cousin who she looks a lot like: that slender/pale/dark hair thing, plus tiny and full of so much general fire & mischief.
- No laughing at respondents when they threaten you with physical harm.
- That microphone is really sensitive, and it will pick up the sound of your neighbor across the way cussing.
- Whining to your supervisor is not amusing. To anyone.
- You think you are 'cool', so you can get away with whining to your supervisor. News flash: you are *not* anywhere approaching 'cool', and in point of fact, anyone who's had to deal with you sort of loathes you, and we really wish you'd hurry up and get a better job somewhere else like in used car sales where your air of pathetic sleaze would be a job asset.
- You're trying really hard, bless your heart.
Math games
Apr. 8th, 2006 01:59 pmWhee, work. Rev. Not-So-Nice Super is picking up on the hours chart really fast. He liked math games as a kid. I am half-tempted to train him on it completely, and leave him to train the rest of the bullpen on it.
He's not feeling particularly inspired to learn, though.
He might feel more inspired after a raise, he said.
He's not feeling particularly inspired to learn, though.
He might feel more inspired after a raise, he said.
Micronaps!
Mar. 18th, 2006 12:01 pmJust sitting there, and then suddenly BOOM! you're awake again. And again. And again.
Staying up Friday night and working Saturday morning is a killer combination in the bad way.
At least I'm monitoring and not walking the areas or something.
If there were more going on with monitoring, I'd be on my toes. But right now the dialer seems dead.
I am working on building my rapport with Rev. Not-So-Nice Super. The current ploy is to involve him in the deployment of the Pink Menace.
Staying up Friday night and working Saturday morning is a killer combination in the bad way.
At least I'm monitoring and not walking the areas or something.
If there were more going on with monitoring, I'd be on my toes. But right now the dialer seems dead.
I am working on building my rapport with Rev. Not-So-Nice Super. The current ploy is to involve him in the deployment of the Pink Menace.
Cellphone Helldesk
Mar. 11th, 2006 02:09 pmRev. Not-So-Nice Super and Comic Pirate Super are dreadful. They just impersonated a cellphone helpdesk. Granted, it was a wrong number. But they didn't say so. Comic Pirate Super was reasonably helpful. Rev. Not-So-Nice Super was about as polite and friendly as your average IVR.
...yeaaaaah.
I blasted out everyone's eyes today. I have a Hawaiian-print shirt. It's got a black background with yellow and pink flowers. It's very cheerful. Rev. Not-So-Nice Super was appalled. Wait untilhis inner darkness gets a load of "Yellow Submarine" he sees the Descendant of the Frog Skirt...
("The Frog Skirt" was a turquoise-blue skirt with a pattern of little toxic rainforest frogs. Very bright. Mama thought it would be hideous. It was actually gorgeous through sheer audacity.)
...Did the Barking Mad Professional just call Rev. Not-So-Nice Super "Charlie Brown"?! I think she did!!
...yeaaaaah.
I blasted out everyone's eyes today. I have a Hawaiian-print shirt. It's got a black background with yellow and pink flowers. It's very cheerful. Rev. Not-So-Nice Super was appalled. Wait until
("The Frog Skirt" was a turquoise-blue skirt with a pattern of little toxic rainforest frogs. Very bright. Mama thought it would be hideous. It was actually gorgeous through sheer audacity.)
...Did the Barking Mad Professional just call Rev. Not-So-Nice Super "Charlie Brown"?! I think she did!!
(no subject)
Feb. 18th, 2006 03:04 pmOnly a little zombified so far. It helps when I'm doing supervisory stuff that the supervisor break room has random coffee available.
Rev. Not-So-Nice Super is going on about chupacabras today. He wants to know where he can buy one. He's been asking various people this.
There was co-ordinated noisy meditation starring Rev. Not-So-Nice Super and Homie G. Super.
The one man bald nudity crusade has LEFT THE BUILDING.
Rev. Not-So-Nice Super is going on about chupacabras today. He wants to know where he can buy one. He's been asking various people this.
There was co-ordinated noisy meditation starring Rev. Not-So-Nice Super and Homie G. Super.
The one man bald nudity crusade has LEFT THE BUILDING.
Moments from today:
Feb. 11th, 2006 06:26 pm"My babysitter's running low. ...Late."
Strawberry blonde! Now made with real strawberries!
The guy who called up, called us fucking sons of bitches, et cetera, and then called us from a cellphone and whistled at us. Rev. Not-So-Nice Super eventually answered the phone on him. (He's infamous for answering the phone. We don't let him do it often.)
Someone insane called up wanting to know if we had an internet connection. Rev. Not-So-Nice Super said yes. The someone wanted to know how fast it was. Rev. Not-So-Nice-Super wasn't able to answer the question, and "put them on hold" ... complete with humming and bopping some "hold music" through his fist into the microphone. By the time he was about to "transfer" to Comic Pirate Super, who was going to take the call, the dude had hung up.
"My computer locked up!"
"What did you do to the computer this time?"
"IT'S THE COMPUTER'S FAULT! IT CAN'T EVEN SPELL!"
"What part of 'find a booth in Area 2' did you not understand?"
"I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO READ ALL THAT SPAM!!"
"Job-related paperwork being put on your desk is not spam."
"I DIDN'T ASK TO GET IT! IT'S SPAM!!!!"
(in short? Must. Control. Fist. Of. Death.)
Calling Darkside after work never looked like such a good option. A minute and a half with him at the end of lunch break. So good.
Strawberry blonde! Now made with real strawberries!
The guy who called up, called us fucking sons of bitches, et cetera, and then called us from a cellphone and whistled at us. Rev. Not-So-Nice Super eventually answered the phone on him. (He's infamous for answering the phone. We don't let him do it often.)
Someone insane called up wanting to know if we had an internet connection. Rev. Not-So-Nice Super said yes. The someone wanted to know how fast it was. Rev. Not-So-Nice-Super wasn't able to answer the question, and "put them on hold" ... complete with humming and bopping some "hold music" through his fist into the microphone. By the time he was about to "transfer" to Comic Pirate Super, who was going to take the call, the dude had hung up.
"My computer locked up!"
"What did you do to the computer this time?"
"IT'S THE COMPUTER'S FAULT! IT CAN'T EVEN SPELL!"
"What part of 'find a booth in Area 2' did you not understand?"
"I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO READ ALL THAT SPAM!!"
"Job-related paperwork being put on your desk is not spam."
"I DIDN'T ASK TO GET IT! IT'S SPAM!!!!"
(in short? Must. Control. Fist. Of. Death.)
Calling Darkside after work never looked like such a good option. A minute and a half with him at the end of lunch break. So good.
Backlogged on comments still/again. Inbox is sitting around 110 read-and-queued messages, not all of which are urgent, but none of which I've actually had the time to address.
Sunday is my Friday.
Sunday may also be my day where I say "fuck it" and go off to Mesa and bother Darkside. (If he'll let me.)
Today had some Technology Moments. Computers lost their desktop wallpaper. This led to at least two people coming up to the bullpen and declaring "My screen turned blue!" One of them was the One-Man Bald Nudity Crusade. I helped him shut down the computer and gave some cheerfully practical advice, like pointing out that that's the desktop, and as long as there's a little Start button down there, it's all good. This was evidently an invitation for him to unload a flood of bitterness about his own PC that stopped working all of a sudden and how computers should be designed to keep working, and he would have to PAY MONEY to get un-hostage-ized the stuff he had on disks, to the tune of $20 for printout, and so on and so forth.
I sat down at my desk again with shaking hands, and I told Comic Pirate Super that I really really wanted to hit someone right about now.
Comic Pirate Super was very understanding. (Comic Pirate Super brightened up my morning by saying "chu'" rather than "Activating!" in DIvI' Hol when he was setting up things on the dialer this morning. Did I mention that I adore some of my co-workers a whole lot?)
Rev. Not-So-Nice Super is plotting some cooking exploits (I was looking up the ingredients and methods for gelatin the other weekend, good gods) and conducting a sociology experiment. He hopes to write it up in paper form and publish, and then run for President on the platform "Homie G Super thinks I'm a nice guy!" I told him that if it didn't get taken as a paper, he should market it as comedy, and honestly, his plans for a reality show were totally unnecessary. In point of fact, I went on, he should just have somebody follow him around with a camera, and that would be reality show enough.
He was honest-to-goodness flattered by that. He and I are brothers in thrall to Thalia, see.
I'm thinking that informing him that his exploits are already entertaining portions of an interesting crowd online might be not such a good idea. As encouraging as it is to him, it might be a little too encouraging, and furthermore, that opens up the whole "work is a regular selection on LJ" can of frickin' worms.
I was sharpening pencils Friday night and Rev. Not-So-Nice Super entered the copy room. Sharpening pencils is noisy, and puts one's back to the door.
He departed snickering. After my pulse un-spiked, I fell over giggling. Just on general principle.
Called the Darkside this afternoon after bidding farewell to the 9-hour shift. He was busy working on the computer. I called back two hours later. Still busy. (This sounded like a value of "working on the computer" that involved re-installation or at least heavy maintenance rather than an actual personal or work-related project.) I've been consciously referring to him as a man rather than a boy, at least when I speak, and especially when I speak to his mother.
Still need to ask him about the renfest.
Still need to poke him about a regular meetup. (And get a response. Somehow. I keep poking from time to time, and he keeps evading.)
Sunday is my Friday.
Sunday may also be my day where I say "fuck it" and go off to Mesa and bother Darkside. (If he'll let me.)
Today had some Technology Moments. Computers lost their desktop wallpaper. This led to at least two people coming up to the bullpen and declaring "My screen turned blue!" One of them was the One-Man Bald Nudity Crusade. I helped him shut down the computer and gave some cheerfully practical advice, like pointing out that that's the desktop, and as long as there's a little Start button down there, it's all good. This was evidently an invitation for him to unload a flood of bitterness about his own PC that stopped working all of a sudden and how computers should be designed to keep working, and he would have to PAY MONEY to get un-hostage-ized the stuff he had on disks, to the tune of $20 for printout, and so on and so forth.
I sat down at my desk again with shaking hands, and I told Comic Pirate Super that I really really wanted to hit someone right about now.
Comic Pirate Super was very understanding. (Comic Pirate Super brightened up my morning by saying "chu'" rather than "Activating!" in DIvI' Hol when he was setting up things on the dialer this morning. Did I mention that I adore some of my co-workers a whole lot?)
Rev. Not-So-Nice Super is plotting some cooking exploits (I was looking up the ingredients and methods for gelatin the other weekend, good gods) and conducting a sociology experiment. He hopes to write it up in paper form and publish, and then run for President on the platform "Homie G Super thinks I'm a nice guy!" I told him that if it didn't get taken as a paper, he should market it as comedy, and honestly, his plans for a reality show were totally unnecessary. In point of fact, I went on, he should just have somebody follow him around with a camera, and that would be reality show enough.
He was honest-to-goodness flattered by that. He and I are brothers in thrall to Thalia, see.
I'm thinking that informing him that his exploits are already entertaining portions of an interesting crowd online might be not such a good idea. As encouraging as it is to him, it might be a little too encouraging, and furthermore, that opens up the whole "work is a regular selection on LJ" can of frickin' worms.
I was sharpening pencils Friday night and Rev. Not-So-Nice Super entered the copy room. Sharpening pencils is noisy, and puts one's back to the door.
"BOO!"
"Waaaigh!"He departed snickering. After my pulse un-spiked, I fell over giggling. Just on general principle.
Called the Darkside this afternoon after bidding farewell to the 9-hour shift. He was busy working on the computer. I called back two hours later. Still busy. (This sounded like a value of "working on the computer" that involved re-installation or at least heavy maintenance rather than an actual personal or work-related project.) I've been consciously referring to him as a man rather than a boy, at least when I speak, and especially when I speak to his mother.
Still need to ask him about the renfest.
Still need to poke him about a regular meetup. (And get a response. Somehow. I keep poking from time to time, and he keeps evading.)
(no subject)
Feb. 4th, 2006 12:08 amhttp://www.theregister.co.uk/2006/02/03/bt_dsl_demon/ -- naughty BT, not telling ISPs that they're doing stuff!
I am sure everyone has already seen the animation/song of http://www.ultimateshowdown.org, and I am the one late to the party. The Little Fayoumis may not have seen it yet, and I am making sure that his mom shows it to him. Because he would so, so, so dig that.
The Brokeback Mountain hype hit work. Someone or other was on the point of going to see it -- then learned what it was about, and didn't, and would have been rather pissed off if he'd actually gone and been tricked into seeing a movie with OMG T3H GHEY. My general knowledge of US/UK exchange rates came in handy when they started discussing a UK reality show that involved a bunch of men chatting up a woman ... a woman who was in fact transsexual, and born male, which little fact the men did not learn until a little later on.
Surprising Rev. Not-So-Nice Super in a dark alley with a brick would not cure his fucking homophobia. Surprising Rev. Not-So-Nice Super in a dark alley with a brick would not cure his fucking homophobia. Surprising Rev. Not-So-Nice Super in a dark alley with a brick would not cure his fucking homophobia. Surprising Rev. Not-So-Nice Super in a dark alley with a brick would not cure his fucking homophobia. Surprising Rev. Not-So-Nice Super in a dark alley with a brick would not cure his fucking homophobia. Surprising Rev. Not-So-Nice Super in a dark alley with a brick would not cure his fucking homophobia. Surprising Rev. Not-So-Nice Super in a dark alley with a brick would not cure his fucking homophobia. Surprising Rev. Not-So-Nice Super in a dark alley with a brick would not cure his fucking homophobia. Surprising Rev. Not-So-Nice Super in a dark alley with a brick would not cure his fucking homophobia. Surprising Rev. Not-So-Nice Super in a dark alley with a brick would not cure his fucking homophobia. Surprising Rev. Not-So-Nice Super in a dark alley with a brick would not cure his fucking homophobia. Surprising Rev. Not-So-Nice Super in a dark alley with a brick would not cure his fucking homophobia.
I don't have issues with Rev. Not-So-Nice Super being upset with the social situation as set up: it's the sort of thing that Betan earrings were invented to take the mystery out of, and doing it for amusement on a reality show smacks of the sort of experimental conditions that would have an ethics advisory committee screaming. (I am not a committee.) I do have issues with anyone, even Rev. Not-So-Nice Super, saying that he'd take the £10,000 and hire a hit man for the erstwhile date. Not for the producers of the show, for the woman. (The producers of the show... that I would have a lot more sympathy with.)
Nobody mess with my sister's people. (No, not Sis. No, not my biological sister. Geeze.)
I am sure everyone has already seen the animation/song of http://www.ultimateshowdown.org, and I am the one late to the party. The Little Fayoumis may not have seen it yet, and I am making sure that his mom shows it to him. Because he would so, so, so dig that.
The Brokeback Mountain hype hit work. Someone or other was on the point of going to see it -- then learned what it was about, and didn't, and would have been rather pissed off if he'd actually gone and been tricked into seeing a movie with OMG T3H GHEY. My general knowledge of US/UK exchange rates came in handy when they started discussing a UK reality show that involved a bunch of men chatting up a woman ... a woman who was in fact transsexual, and born male, which little fact the men did not learn until a little later on.
Surprising Rev. Not-So-Nice Super in a dark alley with a brick would not cure his fucking homophobia. Surprising Rev. Not-So-Nice Super in a dark alley with a brick would not cure his fucking homophobia. Surprising Rev. Not-So-Nice Super in a dark alley with a brick would not cure his fucking homophobia. Surprising Rev. Not-So-Nice Super in a dark alley with a brick would not cure his fucking homophobia. Surprising Rev. Not-So-Nice Super in a dark alley with a brick would not cure his fucking homophobia. Surprising Rev. Not-So-Nice Super in a dark alley with a brick would not cure his fucking homophobia. Surprising Rev. Not-So-Nice Super in a dark alley with a brick would not cure his fucking homophobia. Surprising Rev. Not-So-Nice Super in a dark alley with a brick would not cure his fucking homophobia. Surprising Rev. Not-So-Nice Super in a dark alley with a brick would not cure his fucking homophobia. Surprising Rev. Not-So-Nice Super in a dark alley with a brick would not cure his fucking homophobia. Surprising Rev. Not-So-Nice Super in a dark alley with a brick would not cure his fucking homophobia. Surprising Rev. Not-So-Nice Super in a dark alley with a brick would not cure his fucking homophobia.
I don't have issues with Rev. Not-So-Nice Super being upset with the social situation as set up: it's the sort of thing that Betan earrings were invented to take the mystery out of, and doing it for amusement on a reality show smacks of the sort of experimental conditions that would have an ethics advisory committee screaming. (I am not a committee.) I do have issues with anyone, even Rev. Not-So-Nice Super, saying that he'd take the £10,000 and hire a hit man for the erstwhile date. Not for the producers of the show, for the woman. (The producers of the show... that I would have a lot more sympathy with.)
Nobody mess with my sister's people. (No, not Sis. No, not my biological sister. Geeze.)
Whole lot of randomness that didn't belong in the last post.
Stopped crying after the videos all stopped working and I closed the site. It took a while, though. Lunatic owner's manual says that aftercare for a sobbing, crying Lunatic involves serious decongestant love, or else the Lunatic will be sick for a week.
Work today was certain forms of chaos. Was scheduled to monitor, but the Check-In Princess went home before the shift started. I muddled along in blissful ignorance of this and Obso1337 Super did check-in stuff, but when I emerged around 5 to pick up a minus report, they spied me and shanghaied me into doing check-in stuff.
I checked my work e-mail and discovered that the big long epic e-mail I'd written about the Dendarii Brewing Company Survey (problems therewith) got summarized almost in its entirety and sent on to the client, along with suggested actions to fix same. The same list got distributed to the entire field staff with suggestions to write up something to fix two of the front-of-the-survey issues. I was instructed to hold down the phones in the bullpen while everybody else took lunch. I skimmed through that message, and proceeded to decide that, well, since Stressy College Chick was probably going to delegate it to me anyway, so I might as well write an addition to the intro pre-emptively, and just submit it to her for approval when she came off lunch.
Week before last, I won a pair of bus tickets from the women's center. Last week I evidently won another pair. I didn't put my name in the drawing this week. I should next week, just to see what happens. That's a rather lot of good bus karma I've built up there!
I have a meeting with some member of Management tomorrow half an hour after I get in. My opposite and Homie G Super are going to be there as well. I have no idea what it's about. I hope it's a good-to-neutral thing. It should be, because I'm not aware of screwing anything up lately.
Have fallen in love with the J-Pop band Two-Mix. I fell in love with their music sometime back in 2001, but this makes it official. I've been happily bopping around to everything I've found so far, and my abdominal muscles are not thanking me at the moment, but I'm keeping going, because stopping shaking my hips around would mean going against inertia. A Lunatic in motion tends to remain in motion.
Really Long Forwarded Messages with cute little graphics and inspirational stuff? So. Annoying. Made a point of replying to a "forward this back to me if you think I deserve a hug" with not the forward, but a nethug.
Rev. Not-So-Nice Super and Homie G Super are plotting something together. It involves making homemade gelatin out of skanky fingernail clippings. I printed out the Snopes article on jello content for them; this cheered them both immensely and made them decide that I was part of the conspiracy. That's fine with me -- this way, they won't be serving me any. I seem to have become the Research Queen of the bullpen. Now with bonus glitter graphics tool vianalidoll, who greatly amused me by glitzing up the word "Jello", thus reminding me of the Conspiracy.
clarinetkid4eve has invited me to be part of her wedding! Glee! Girlie stuff! Whee!
Am considering writing a regular feature doing "translations" of Official LJ Admin-Type Posts into LJ-style slangy sarcasm. Sounds like it could be a brilliant concept, but also very easy to do very badly, and easy for me to get bored with. Hmm. Worth consideration, though.
Stopped crying after the videos all stopped working and I closed the site. It took a while, though. Lunatic owner's manual says that aftercare for a sobbing, crying Lunatic involves serious decongestant love, or else the Lunatic will be sick for a week.
Work today was certain forms of chaos. Was scheduled to monitor, but the Check-In Princess went home before the shift started. I muddled along in blissful ignorance of this and Obso1337 Super did check-in stuff, but when I emerged around 5 to pick up a minus report, they spied me and shanghaied me into doing check-in stuff.
I checked my work e-mail and discovered that the big long epic e-mail I'd written about the Dendarii Brewing Company Survey (problems therewith) got summarized almost in its entirety and sent on to the client, along with suggested actions to fix same. The same list got distributed to the entire field staff with suggestions to write up something to fix two of the front-of-the-survey issues. I was instructed to hold down the phones in the bullpen while everybody else took lunch. I skimmed through that message, and proceeded to decide that, well, since Stressy College Chick was probably going to delegate it to me anyway, so I might as well write an addition to the intro pre-emptively, and just submit it to her for approval when she came off lunch.
Week before last, I won a pair of bus tickets from the women's center. Last week I evidently won another pair. I didn't put my name in the drawing this week. I should next week, just to see what happens. That's a rather lot of good bus karma I've built up there!
I have a meeting with some member of Management tomorrow half an hour after I get in. My opposite and Homie G Super are going to be there as well. I have no idea what it's about. I hope it's a good-to-neutral thing. It should be, because I'm not aware of screwing anything up lately.
Have fallen in love with the J-Pop band Two-Mix. I fell in love with their music sometime back in 2001, but this makes it official. I've been happily bopping around to everything I've found so far, and my abdominal muscles are not thanking me at the moment, but I'm keeping going, because stopping shaking my hips around would mean going against inertia. A Lunatic in motion tends to remain in motion.
Really Long Forwarded Messages with cute little graphics and inspirational stuff? So. Annoying. Made a point of replying to a "forward this back to me if you think I deserve a hug" with not the forward, but a nethug.
Rev. Not-So-Nice Super and Homie G Super are plotting something together. It involves making homemade gelatin out of skanky fingernail clippings. I printed out the Snopes article on jello content for them; this cheered them both immensely and made them decide that I was part of the conspiracy. That's fine with me -- this way, they won't be serving me any. I seem to have become the Research Queen of the bullpen. Now with bonus glitter graphics tool via
nalidoll, who greatly amused me by glitzing up the word "Jello", thus reminding me of the Conspiracy. clarinetkid4eve has invited me to be part of her wedding! Glee! Girlie stuff! Whee! Am considering writing a regular feature doing "translations" of Official LJ Admin-Type Posts into LJ-style slangy sarcasm. Sounds like it could be a brilliant concept, but also very easy to do very badly, and easy for me to get bored with. Hmm. Worth consideration, though.
Potential Hallucination
Jan. 14th, 2006 01:39 amRev. Not-So-Nice Supervisor blames me for the coffee he had to get last Sunday morning.
He tells it roughly like so:
So there I was getting off the bus and I'm about to cross the street but I see this THING! It's PINK! And it's GLOWING! It's sort of sending up these little sparkles! I look away, I'm imagining things. I look back. Still there. There's this drunk guy lying on the sidewalk. I ask him if he can see it. He's all, 'man, I'm drunk.' And I'm, 'I'm not.' So no way am I crossing the street! It's scary!
So in order to clear his mind of this hallucinatory pink sparkling thing, he hits the Circle K for some coffee, because sometimes when way back in your past you have done some substances, sometimes they come back to visit you again. And the reality that it's just his damn strange co-worker in a pink velvet cloak does nothing to change his mind that the thing is in fact a magic cloak.
Today, Rev. Not-So-Nice Super had, for some obscure reason, organic dog biscuits. And (it seems) he swore up and down in the break room that the first pretty girl he saw after he came out, he'd offer her one to see if she'd eat it.
My opposite was the first one tagged. She tasted it, but figured out something was up. She grumbled at everyone who'd been in the know, wanting know why they hadn't warned her. Obso1337 Super would have, but that he'd been looking the wrong direction when Rev. Not-So-Nice Super handed it to her, and by the time he turned around, it was too late. "What are you eating that for? It's a dog biscuit!" he'd said as she was wiping at her tongue with a paper towel.
Rev. Not-So-Nice Super kept up this thing for most of the second half of the shift. We suggested some deserving targets. He refused to offer one to the One-Man Bald Nudity Crusade, on the very reasonable grounds that the dude would probably rat him out.
The other day he had a pack of shocking gum. He offered some to me. I declined, saying that another supervisor (Shocking Gum Super, in fact) had already given me some. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice ... won't get fooled again.
As an aside, Rev. Not-So-Nice Super's practical jokes and teasing could really easily cross the line from extreme and funny to really extreme and not at all funny, but for the fact that the guy knows when to back off (for the most part). If someone is genuinely getting upset/pissed off/not amused, he backs off and generally doesn't involve them in future pranks. He knows how to take it and how to dish it out, and he does not dish it out to anyone unless they have dished it out to him first. He counts chiming in and agreeing when someone else is serving it up as 'dishing it out' as well. He knows that his idea of funny skirts the wrong side of 'appropriate for work', so if there's any question, he plays it safe.
Intentionally or unintentionally, bullying jokers don't take what their target thinks of it as a message to stop. And they keep on picking on someone. And they use "can't you take a joke?" to pretend that what they're doing is OK.
He tells it roughly like so:
So there I was getting off the bus and I'm about to cross the street but I see this THING! It's PINK! And it's GLOWING! It's sort of sending up these little sparkles! I look away, I'm imagining things. I look back. Still there. There's this drunk guy lying on the sidewalk. I ask him if he can see it. He's all, 'man, I'm drunk.' And I'm, 'I'm not.' So no way am I crossing the street! It's scary!
So in order to clear his mind of this hallucinatory pink sparkling thing, he hits the Circle K for some coffee, because sometimes when way back in your past you have done some substances, sometimes they come back to visit you again. And the reality that it's just his damn strange co-worker in a pink velvet cloak does nothing to change his mind that the thing is in fact a magic cloak.
Today, Rev. Not-So-Nice Super had, for some obscure reason, organic dog biscuits. And (it seems) he swore up and down in the break room that the first pretty girl he saw after he came out, he'd offer her one to see if she'd eat it.
My opposite was the first one tagged. She tasted it, but figured out something was up. She grumbled at everyone who'd been in the know, wanting know why they hadn't warned her. Obso1337 Super would have, but that he'd been looking the wrong direction when Rev. Not-So-Nice Super handed it to her, and by the time he turned around, it was too late. "What are you eating that for? It's a dog biscuit!" he'd said as she was wiping at her tongue with a paper towel.
Rev. Not-So-Nice Super kept up this thing for most of the second half of the shift. We suggested some deserving targets. He refused to offer one to the One-Man Bald Nudity Crusade, on the very reasonable grounds that the dude would probably rat him out.
The other day he had a pack of shocking gum. He offered some to me. I declined, saying that another supervisor (Shocking Gum Super, in fact) had already given me some. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice ... won't get fooled again.
As an aside, Rev. Not-So-Nice Super's practical jokes and teasing could really easily cross the line from extreme and funny to really extreme and not at all funny, but for the fact that the guy knows when to back off (for the most part). If someone is genuinely getting upset/pissed off/not amused, he backs off and generally doesn't involve them in future pranks. He knows how to take it and how to dish it out, and he does not dish it out to anyone unless they have dished it out to him first. He counts chiming in and agreeing when someone else is serving it up as 'dishing it out' as well. He knows that his idea of funny skirts the wrong side of 'appropriate for work', so if there's any question, he plays it safe.
Intentionally or unintentionally, bullying jokers don't take what their target thinks of it as a message to stop. And they keep on picking on someone. And they use "can't you take a joke?" to pretend that what they're doing is OK.
One day follows another
Oct. 31st, 2005 03:44 amSunday! The day of my double shift!
Next to the other check-in girl, I feel like a slacker. I covered four shifts check-in; she covered four shifts check-in. I monitored one shift. She worked on the gol-dang new timeclock system back-end paperwork for three, at glacial speed. (This is positively racing compared to typical and pessimal.)
Morning was fairly quiet. I have been bringing in treats -- there has been a candy bowl on my desk. The thing emptied several times and had to be refilled over the weekend. There were some very bad pun moments: Stressy College Chick has a fondness for peanut butter chocolates. One of the types of candy was a peanut butter sphere in chocolate, wrapped in a foil designed to look like an eyeball, with red-veined whites, and luminous metallic irises. At several times during the day, when I detected Stressy College Chick's stress level going up beyond the bad, I lobbed a chocolate at her, aiming low so it came to earth on her desk with still plenty of momentum left. When one particularly forceful chocolate plopped off her desk and landed in her chair, she had to ask:
"What are you doing?"
( ''I'm--'' ... pun-tastic. )
Work was reasonably forgettable. Everything added. No major malfunctions except for a person leaving irate; they'll be speaking to Pink Shirt Guy soon enough. I'm glad we've been having walkers lately, because of all the new people with new-person questions. The evening shift was another one of those scary ones with not enough supervisors in. Quiet Geek Super was out. Obso1337 Super is in Vegas. Homie G and Short Chick are both on leave. Shocking Gum Super was going to have the day off, but when Stressy College Chick called him, he came in, and the two people running jobs were him and Trendy Chick. Rev. Not-So-Nice Super and Clone Name Super were dayshift. So Management made it another pizza night. Hooray Management.
My stress crunched my neck again. I noticed it happening and tried to stop it. I wound up accepting a neck rub from Cute Desk Guy. He is strong enough to wallop my stubborn muscles into submission. I was standing straight for what felt like the first time in weeks after that. Then my muscles went all crunchy again.
I did get to talk with Darkside for a while. I called him on break of the 2nd shift. He was a lot more cheerful. He'd won his workplace's costume contest as the Grim Reaper. I wound up standing back in Fulfillment watching the clock, there in that big dark room alone with him on the phone. On the phone in the dark seems to be the best time for us. (He has an entirely different image of me than my co-workers do. I really can't say as to who's got the more correct image.)
Next to the other check-in girl, I feel like a slacker. I covered four shifts check-in; she covered four shifts check-in. I monitored one shift. She worked on the gol-dang new timeclock system back-end paperwork for three, at glacial speed. (This is positively racing compared to typical and pessimal.)
Morning was fairly quiet. I have been bringing in treats -- there has been a candy bowl on my desk. The thing emptied several times and had to be refilled over the weekend. There were some very bad pun moments: Stressy College Chick has a fondness for peanut butter chocolates. One of the types of candy was a peanut butter sphere in chocolate, wrapped in a foil designed to look like an eyeball, with red-veined whites, and luminous metallic irises. At several times during the day, when I detected Stressy College Chick's stress level going up beyond the bad, I lobbed a chocolate at her, aiming low so it came to earth on her desk with still plenty of momentum left. When one particularly forceful chocolate plopped off her desk and landed in her chair, she had to ask:
"What are you doing?"
( ''I'm--'' ... pun-tastic. )
Work was reasonably forgettable. Everything added. No major malfunctions except for a person leaving irate; they'll be speaking to Pink Shirt Guy soon enough. I'm glad we've been having walkers lately, because of all the new people with new-person questions. The evening shift was another one of those scary ones with not enough supervisors in. Quiet Geek Super was out. Obso1337 Super is in Vegas. Homie G and Short Chick are both on leave. Shocking Gum Super was going to have the day off, but when Stressy College Chick called him, he came in, and the two people running jobs were him and Trendy Chick. Rev. Not-So-Nice Super and Clone Name Super were dayshift. So Management made it another pizza night. Hooray Management.
My stress crunched my neck again. I noticed it happening and tried to stop it. I wound up accepting a neck rub from Cute Desk Guy. He is strong enough to wallop my stubborn muscles into submission. I was standing straight for what felt like the first time in weeks after that. Then my muscles went all crunchy again.
I did get to talk with Darkside for a while. I called him on break of the 2nd shift. He was a lot more cheerful. He'd won his workplace's costume contest as the Grim Reaper. I wound up standing back in Fulfillment watching the clock, there in that big dark room alone with him on the phone. On the phone in the dark seems to be the best time for us. (He has an entirely different image of me than my co-workers do. I really can't say as to who's got the more correct image.)
Things About Work
Oct. 8th, 2005 01:08 pmIt works a lot better if you spell your phishing e-mail better. "Choise"? My fingers hurt typing that. "Rightfull"? Go choke on a dictionary.
No love,
Unphished
The History of every major Galactic Civilization tends to pass through three distinct and recognizable phases, those of Survival, Inquiry and Sophistication, otherwise known as the How, Why and Where phases. For instance, the first phase is characterized by the question How can we eat? the second by the question Why do we eat? and the third by the question Where shall we have lunch?
My workplace is definitely at Sophistication, though there are forays into Inquiry, as witness the recent investigation of the exact genital setup of the standard-issue hermaphrodite (Joe Average Layman, in the form of ObsoL33t Super, Stressy College Chick, and gods know who else, is not dreadfully informed on this) and the thing with the cow stomachs and all the trips to Google for vocabulary definitions and the IMDB visits.
figment0 tearing his hair at a monitor report is never a good sign. Stressy College Chick was talking about school.
"Class, class, class. You know what class rhymes with? You can kiss it." Rev. Not-So-Nice Super is actually an asshole. (Not an asshat. An asshole. In the Dennis Leary sense.)
We still haven't decided on a place to outsource lunch from. And it's 5 minutes until lunchtime.
I seem to have acquired a decent working relationship with the Crazy Cussing Bus Stop Lady based on her being pagan of some description (and possibly 'kin as well, because "Mortals are so much fun" was cited) and me being a little bit "high-strung" or something. Innnnteresting.
And it's now 15 minutes past lunchtime; I have yet to actually order lunch.
Oh. Dear. Looks like I'm getting Random Crap from the Machine for lunch: the delivery driver just went home sick. Heh. One of those days, eh?
thette inadvertently helped out in the ongoing mock battle of pseudo-ideology between me and the Wonder Twins Poser-Geek Super and Rev. Not-So-Nice Super. Jelly Babies would entirely possibly taste good with a nice coconut glaze.
I've had some questions about why the whole "You eat babies!" thing doesn't bother me. It's mostly because I know they don't really think I eat babies, and they get ragged on just as hard about assorted random crap by the rest of the bullpen. Lots of give-and-take, and I both give and take.
In other news, I came out of the bi-closet to Trendy Chick Super on Sunday. She is generally cool, but she called the workplace "homo", meaning "bad", and I asked her politely to not use that word in a negative sense. (Especially not in front of me.) She apologized, not having meant offense to me, and inquired as to why it offended me. I declined to answer in front of present company (Phone Call In Super and one of the male supervisors who hasn't got any notable distinct traits except for the broken back from the car wreck) but whispered something to her that she was able to decode in terms of a joke astrology sheet that had been going around. All was explained...
