|Sense of self preservation, not everyone has it.
||[Mar. 15th, 2011|03:51 pm]
I had started the day promising that I wouldn't whine. |
But now I'm up to "Bull with his Tail caught in the Trailer Door" rage, so I consider the promise having been fulfilled.
Yah, yah, yah, more on my to-do list than can possibly be done by a single human being, all of extra-urgent, omigod we're going to die, volcano-like proportions. Due last week. Snooooorrrre.
But then, to make it better -- yesterday our phones were down. Which was sort of nice for a while, but the little expletives just move to e-mail or cell phone. Except that while I could send e-mail out, I couldn't receive any. And I made the mistake of involving our helpdesk. Who, at noon, managed to reboot my e-mail in such a way that it was ALL. GONE.
I had moved through the stages of grief, and was actually seeing the bright side of losing all 700 urgent assignments/requests/questions/pantsinawad.
But then, I found it on-line. So, by leaving our system, and pretending I was home, I could access it. In a limited, painful to search, which is always painful, but less so when you are in your jammies and drinking a glass of wine. I was most decidedly NOT in my jammies. And stone, cold, bitter sober.
But okay. Clutching hope so tight that her lips got a little blue, I thought no biggie, tomorrow it will be better. And I wrapped up early because I had to meet a supplier for a business dinner. Which I hate. Officially. I mean, okay, the food was amazing, as it always is at Black's B&K and I can usually only swing that kind of a tab once in a blue moon. But still, MY TIME. But we needed to talk toilet paper and facial tissue and that was the only time she had free. So. I purposely pick a place that is easy to find.
But to no avail. And after waiting in the bar for a half hour and then finally sitting down, she was another hour and twenty minutes late. And I had to make a glass of wine last that entire TIME. (I can do some negotiation under the influence, but it's...spotty.) And the dinner went to 10:30pm. With friends I adore...no problem. But seriously, MY TIME. And now I'm going to head in to work the next day with sleep deprivation.
Which I had. And a whole bag of CRAB, for no apparent reason. To find that while my e-mail is back, I'm now having other computer issues -- like having it run slow and then crash THREE times. So -- all the late stuff is back, and I can barely make headway. Awesome. The Bag of Crab grows. So much so that at lunch with colleagues -- ten of us in the back echo-y room of a Chinese restaurant and while talking about a single issue, ten strong personalities are all talking over each other and no one can finish a sentence and when I start to explain what we're talking about to a colleague at the far end, and two other people start in with their own explanation, and the colleague being addressed starts to ask a second question before I'm even halfway through my sentence...
Well, you really can't blame me for unholstering VOICE OF GOD, can you?
He got the full traffic cop hand and a from the diaphragm "STOP. JUST STOP. Christ on toast points, is there not a one of you that can let someone finish a goddamned sentence?" It worked. Of course. It ALWAYS does.
But then I had to apologize for being an a-hole.
So lunch over, and it's time to come back and work on this project due at COB today. Hey, ho, let's run a quick report on these categories so I can analyze growth...
O. Wait. Where are my categories? Normally I go to Rodent, filter down to mouse, filter down to Mus Musculus and away we go! (That's house mouse...I'll save you the google.) But now I get to Rodent and....it's ALL RODENT. House mouse, field mouse, dwarf bloody Siberian hamster, goddamned Capybara. All in one category.
(Okay, I do NOT work with rodents at work. That would be way more fun, albeit pungent. But this is boring enough.)
So, now I can't do that report. That's due. Unless I want to spend another hour parsing through to house mouse.
And yeah -- you guessed it -- the response of the department that owns the data is "huh, what?"
So, when I put on my sneakers and grab my coat and head for the elevator and someone says "leaving already?" and I say "Nah, taking a walk to reboot -- it's been a very, very hard week" and they say "Hard week? But it's only Tuesday!"
You just can't blame me for what happened next, can you?
You'll vouch for my character in court, right? Right?