|I might be worth a whole lot more than I think.
||[Dec. 2nd, 2010|01:55 pm]
Augh, the stupid, it BURNS. |
So, when I address and fix a problem in July of 2009 and everything is fine and no one has a problem and suddenly in December of 2010, 2010, twenty, ten, over a year later, you decide to start billing my customer for those items that I deleted from our agreement over 16 months ago, because you never could seem to bill it correctly, so I just said, screw it, it's not worth the $10 a year, it's gone...but out of the f-ing BLUE, you what, revert? Yes, yes, I AM going to sound a little snippy.
You, my friend, are why they don't let me bring a nail gun to work.
Because I started my day finding out that going into the holiday travel season, one of my largest customers is going to run out of stock of their fork. If you've been in airport, or highway reststop and eaten food lately and it's been a black fork, that's it. Seriously. No more available until after Christmas. Yes, yes, sure we can sub product from another manufacturer, but we're talking huge amounts of effort, coordination and money over the next two weeks. For an F-ing Fork.
Plus, the contract draft corrections that a customer's lawyer was editing, that were promised by said lawyer on Tuesday afternoon, so I set up a meeting Wednesday afternoon to go over with our lawyer, and it didn't arrive and the customer's lawyer said, okay, WEDNESDAY afternoon, so I hedged my bets and rescheduled for THURSDAY afternoon, but here it is THURSDAY afternoon and no draft and now she tells me she's waiting on someone ELSE'S comments and doesn't know where it is...
...and if this contract is finished on time -- which is December 20th -- I get a promotion. And if it doesn't, I probably won't. And I have never, ever in my life ever needed a promotion as badly as this. Because like most people, the expected "average" increase this year, probably won't cover my health insurance increases. (Before you stop feeling sorry for me, because at least I'm getting an increase of some kind, no matter how small, understand it's because my team of five people used to be seven, back before the economy went south, and their work didn't go away. Per hour, my wages have been flat.)
Seriously -- I am under so much pressure that I'm pretty sure my internal organs are making diamonds. Sadly, I don't seem to be dispensing them. Which would solve all of my problems. Which would take away the pressure. Which would mean no more diamonds. There's never an easy solution, is there?
And now I've gone and posted this. Which means right now, some moron is tracking me down and you'll find me dead in a ditch, gutted like some bear carrying a magic gallbladder. Promise me, when you get the spam e-mail from some guy who spells his name Kieth DunDalk, that you won't fall for it. Stress diamonds dissolve in happiness. And sooner or later, we'll each have our turn to bathe in it.
Well, not me. Because I'll be gutted in a ditch. Plus I've blocked that DunDalk guy's e-mails.