So Be It

I still have a job.
I still don’t completely understand why I allowed things to transpire in the manner they did. I’ll be beating myself up about this one for a long time.

At this point I’m just thankful that everything seems to be alright.

It Was Bound to Happen

So my knack for procrastination has finally caught up with me in a terrible way.

Without going in to too many details, I learned that some information I had based a decision upon was inaccurate. When the new information came to my attention, I intended to deal with it immediately, but was unable to do so. I wanted to handle face-to-face with my boss and it just wasn’t possible when it first came to light. So I went about my business.

Fast forward two weeks. The situation is brought to my attention again through another source and I still had not acted on it. Now it looks REALLY, REALLY bad that I failed to correct the situation sooner.

Now I’m stuck in a position, where it could look to others like I never intended to act on the new information. Unfortunately, the simple truth is, I forgot about it because it really didn’t seem like the top thing on the list of priorities.

It turns out now that it should have been THE top thing on the list of priorities.

Depending on how a series of conversations goes on Monday morning, I could be in the job market in a relatively short period of time.

Bad Mood Rising

Today was a total crap day from hell. I’m really trying to be better about not allowing myself to stay in a bad mood when things don’t go my way. However, when I am in the midst of a fit and I think to myself, “snap out of it Lutey, let it roll off your back,” I mind myself answering, “shut the f*** up!”

Let me just say, I HATE upper administration. I vomit in my mouth when I think of the slime balls in positions of power where I work. Perhaps its this way everywhere. I’d really rather not personally know about those rat bastards and the sleazy and self-serving decisions made at their levels. I really don’t know how some people get away with some of the things they do.

Afer work, I was looking forward to picking up my little gems and focusing on what is really important in the world. Not to be disappointed, my little angels fought the entire way home. I actually wound up turning on the iPod, putting the earphones in and cranking the volume up to max. My ear drums may have been bleeding, but at least I didn’t have to listen to the constant bickering and bitching coming from the back seat.

When we got home, I locked myself in the bedroom. I think it was best for everyone. I could not shake the ugly vibe, so I put myself in time out.

Dammit

Terry Bradshaw was in the building today and nobody called me downstairs so I could gawk at him. Cloned Hotdog claims she gave me the call before he left, but by the time I made it downstairs–which was pretty damn quick–he was already gone.

What Happened Here?

At my office, there are two gold, velour couch cushions in the second floor stairwell landing. No one knows why they are there or where they came from. It’s a little creepy given all the crazy things reportedly happening in BR right now.

There are at least 10 of us who have noticed this peculiar visitation, none of us are attempting to do anything about it. Except, of course, say stupid things like, “hey did you see those couch cushions, I wonder how they got there.”

The New Guy

I guess today marks the first official day of my department’s new chief. The new boss has been christened “Ruffles” by Uncle Nico. Ruffles will be touring his new realm this morning.

Some of my co-workers sterilized their offices in preparation for the big visit. I straigtened three posters on my wall, threw out some empty diet dr. pepper cans, rinsed my coffee cup, and punched the desk top punching bag Lefty gave me for my birthday.

I’m ready for whatever Ruffles sends my way.

Trained

I think I’ve just been trained. I went down stairs to get some coffee. As I was heading back up to my hole, Cloned Hotdog just called me into her office. She gave me two cookies…which I gladly ate. As I was leaving, she handed me some papers and said, “Hey, go give these to Granky.”

If you give me treats, I run errands for you.

Stress Hump

First of all, get your mind out of the gutter. It isn’t that kind of hump. It’s a noun not a verb.

Crazy things are happening at the office. My entire unit could be eliminated. At the very least, it looks like we will be broken apart and scattered to the four winds. The only thing we know for certain, there will be significant changes.

My stress hump is up to three cups of coffee a day.

Do Not, Under Any Circumstances, Answer That

It’s one minute before quitting time. The phone rings. What do you do?

Technically, you’re still on the clock. So you’re supposed to answer the phone.

Then again, according to someone else’s clock it probably already is quitting time. So just let voice mail get it.

Who the hell, calls at quitting time anyway?!

This is either someone trying to cover their own ass because they didn’t call you earlier in the day like they should have.

Or, it is someone who has the ability to fire. Technically you’re still on the clock. You damned well better answer the phone or have a really good reason for sneaking out of the building when you should be answering your phone.

So, my phone rang one minute before quitting time today. To answer or not to answer, that was the question.

I answered. It was someone from the big man’s office. Like my boss’s, boss’s, boss. The big man needed something done. Could I please wait around for a couple minutes while they finalize some “language”, because it’s important that this thing be taken care of this afternoon.

It is now an hour and 12 mintues past the time I should have left. I’ve had three calls telling me that what I’m waiting for will be to me in about ten minutes. It has been 15 minutes since I had the last one of those calls. I still don’t have it.

I may not see my family tonight because I have to be at job two in a couple hours.

What is the lesson I have learned from this?

ALWAYS answer the phone when it rings a minute before quitting time. I cannot imagine the crap I’d have to endure in the morning if I had not picked up the phone at 4:29 this afternoon.

You’ll have to pardon me now. I have some more waiting to do. I think I’m probably going to take care of it at shockwave.com.

Pathetic

So, the office I work for has a “motor pool”–for lack of a better term. It consists of three vehicles. A white mini-van (only videographers and photographers can use it), a white malibu (the dream machine), and car-du-jour (run away, run away).

Car-du-jour changes frequently. In general, you can bank on it being unreliable. Walking is preferable to getting behind the wheel of car-du-jour. It has been known to leave its occupants stranded.

You may ask, “what is involved in stranding?” Stranded means, the radiator may explode, a wheel may fall off, or it may catch on fire. Yes, all of these things have happened with little or no warning from car-du-jour. Today it may run without incident, tomorrow it will be towed to a junk yard. It will be replaced by a car of equal or lesser reliability.

The current car-du-jour is a green mini-van. We have had this vehicle less than a week. Today I had a 1:30 meeting I needed to drive to. At 1:15 I make my way to the front office to check out the Malibu. Another person checked out the Malibu only moments ahead of me. Lucky me, car-du-jour is ready for action. Reluctantly I check out the keys and make my way to the van.

There are three keys on the key ring. The mental red flags are raised. I’ve never quite understood why some car manufactures like to give you a separate key for each lock on the car. All I need is one. I don’t care if the fob is square or round, plastic or metal as long as it works in all of the vehicle’s locks.

As I make my way to the van, I’m fully preparerd for the first key I slip into the lock not to work. And, of course, it doesn’t work. When the second key doesn’t work, again I figure it’s just my luck. I’m a bit stunned when the third and final key on the ring does not unlock the door.

Hhhmmm, obviously I must have used one key twice. I am careful this time. I keep track of each key so that it is only used once. Again, key one–NO. Key two–NO. Key three–NO. I delve into the definition of insanity and go through the entire process one more time. No. No. No.

I return to the building. Talk to our Office Administrator.

ME: None of these keys unlocks the van.
OA: Did you try all of them?
ME: Yes. Is there a trick to unlocking the door?
OA: Put the key in the lock and turn it.
ME: That’s what I did.
OA: You didn’t turn it in the correct direction. Turn it to the right.
ME: I tried turning the keys in both directions. Nothing worked.
OA: And you tried all the keys?
ME: Yes.
OA: Let me go try.

So we walk out to the van. OA puts a key in the lock, turns it. It opens. Laughter insues.

So, I assume that I obviously was not as careful using each of the keys as I thought I was. I drive off to my meeting. Don’t give it another thought.

Now it is post meeting. I make my way to the parking lot. It is now raining outside. I don’t have an umbrella. I walk out to the van, put a key in. Nothing. I try key two. Nope. I try key three. Nuh-huh.

Anger begins to boil within me. I try each key again. You know the drill. Still nothing. I’m beginning to get soaked now. Perhaps I’m not getting good enough leverage. I put my purse and notepad down in the puddle at my feet. I’m trying each key and attempting to turn it with both hands. Nope, not gonna open.

I return to the building and call OA.

ME: Are you sure there isn’t a trick to unlocking the door?
OA: //laughter//
ME: Come on, you’re certain, there’s no special jiggly thing you have to do with key.
OA: Do you want me to drive over and unlock the car for you?
ME: No, I’m pretty sure I can do it myself. I just wanted to make sure I’m not missing some trick.
OA: Just put the key in and turn it. I can drive over…
ME: No, I’ll get it.

I make my way back to the van. It is still raining. I go through each of the keys again. The lock just will not budge. I’m using so much force, I worry that one of them is going to snap off in the lock. My fingers are red. A blister is beginning to form. A FREAKIN’ BLISTER IS FORMING!

I give up on the driver side door. I go to the passenger side. No. No. No. I try the lock in the sliding door. No. No. No. AAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

I return to the driver side. Still nothing. I’m standing in the rain. With three keys in my hand. I’m just about ready to break a window, I’m pretty sure I can pop the lock that way. I just happen to see a co-worker, R.B., walking through the parking lot. So I yell out for assistance. R.B. ambles over, hands me her umbrella, takes the keys from me, and unlocks the door.

I’m relieved and devasted at the same time. How can it be that I cannot unlock the door after hundreds of attempts? No one else is having this problem!

As I return to the building, others have already been alerted to my pathetic adventure with car-du-jour.

My ego is shattered. I have a blister to remind me of my adventure.