let me hear your voice tonight (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alexseanchai) wrote2015-04-29 01:19 am
alexseanchai) wrote2015-04-29 01:19 am
(no subject)
So I went to bed at two Tuesday morning. Woke up...dunno, but I lazed in bed for ages before I looked at the clock.
7:49.
Got up and got some stuff done. Not much stuff. Wasn't braining well. Very tired. Went back to bed quarter of eleven. Got up again, annoyed and still tired, quarter past eleven. Didn't properly wake up till I got in the shower sometime around one. Noticed the plastic part of the shower curtain is beginning to mildew again.
So, having accomplished absolutely squat at home, didn't get in early for overtime hours either. Finally got off to work and spent most of my time in the 50mph zone behind someone who thought they were in a 35mph zone. (They sped up just fine when we got out to the highway. So it wasn't car trouble or anything.)
Went to Walmart because getting low on my chocolate-infused peanut butter again and that's the only place I know of that sells it. They don't seem to sell it anymore.
Work still smells like paint fumes. Not, like, the stink punches one in the face when one opens the front door, but distinctly paint-fumey nonetheless.
First piece of work I pull up to process is something I suspended back in March. Priority 2, which means we're supposed to have it completed and faxed or emailed back (as appropriate) to the client within two hours of its arrival.
This is a two-parter, first part in 'completed this ages ago' status, second part open. Comment on second part to the effect of "returning to filer per [coworker]", which is informative as fuck and also timestamped like 14:22. I of course started work at 16:00 on the dot.
Called up customer-service coworker named in comments. Recalled too late she leaves at four. Called up coworker whose initials were on it as latest person to handle it, and she swore up down and sideways it was done, printed, out the door, just needed to be completed and farewelled. Well, can't farewell a thing without either suspending or completing it (and suspends typically come back to haunt you), can't complete it without printing it (wait, didn't she say it was printed?), can't print it without stamping it, can't stamp it without seeing the image. Couldn't see the image. Couldn't get coworker with such powers to restore the image without reverting it to the initial (wrong) version, and fuck knows where the pertinent hard copy got to.
Emailed tech support. Tech support emailed back: this was done earlier in the day, talk to customer-service coworker whose initials were on the thing as first customer-service rep to handle the thing. Emailed him. Not having seen it in a month, he hadn't the faintest what to do with it. Now, mind you, this is part two of a two-parter, and while I could suspend the second part (the one with the problem that apparently got fixed earlier in the day) okay, the system chokes if someone tries to take part two of a thing while someone else has part one, and part one was in 'completed this long enough ago that no one needs the image anymore' status, and I could not suspend it or farewell it or anything except put it on hold with the rest of the sendbacks and complain further to tech support.
Yep, you guessed it. User tries to pull up the next piece of work in queue? First thing that comes up is the most urgent thing that user has on hold.
And then tech support all went home for the evening without taking the two-parter from me or otherwise figuring out how to make it get out of my workflow.
Fortunately—for given values—it was my night for Them Fuckers. There were thirteen when I got coworker-with-powers to print me a list of the request numbers. (Ten is an impressive number to complete over the course of one work day.) And I did 'em. And there were twelve more to do.
And among Them Fuckers was a four-parter. The contents of Them Fuckers are not public record, so I can't tell you what was wrong with this foursome. Suffice to say it was several doozies. And there was another one earlier with a couple doozies wrong with it, too. (The rest were thankfully pretty straightforward.)
When I got done that foursome there were six Fuckers left, and six is less than ten, so (having done a total of nineteen) fuck the rest of that, day shift can deal with those six in the morning. But of course that two-part two-hour that won't die was still top of my hold list. So I got coworker-with-powers to print me a couple lists of request numbers of things in queue to be done that night. I believe I went through five lists. There are something like thirty requests per list. (Okay, one of those lists only had one live one, because of course coworkers were pulling from the queue every couple minutes and therefore got to a bunch of my listed requests before I did. But still. And there was something ugly wrong with that one live one, too, but I forget what it was. Couldn't tell you anyway, they're not public record till processing's completed.)
By this point I've had two Pepsis, a Barq's, and a cup of tea, just to stay conscious while on the clock and in anticipation of the need to be alert on the drive home. This is approximately one Pepsi more than my typical daily caffeine consumption, and I'm sensitive to caffeine. I predict I get to sleep around three and wake up, at the latest, noon—which will not pay down any sleep debt.
The priority six work, somebody else is supposed to do the data entry so that we just have to check the document's all right, approve it, and go on our merry way. There are several somebodies else ('somebody' here defined as 'company we work with lots'). I don't know who the hell was keying things in over at this one company, but they made the same two mistakes keying in all of this one document type that I saw from them that night. This was easily a dozen of that type of document just that I personally saw.
Oh, yeah, and somewhere in there I had dinner. Two meatball Hot Pockets. I am not actually especially fond of Hot Pockets but they require six minutes total to prepare, most of which is spent waiting for the microwave to do its thing or for the pockets to cool to edible temperatures after. And they take zero cope to prepare. And usually they don't upset my stomach. Emphasis on usually. Guess what happened tonight.
And somewhere in there I checked the site where the pay stubs go and the ones for Friday's paycheck are up, and PROMOTION MONEY YAY...except I still don't know what the RegNewHire line item is for and now it's eating $64 a paycheck instead of $52.
And somewhere in there I got an email from the local UUs wishing to inquire if I meant to make a financial pledge this fiscal year, as they don't believe they've received pledge paperwork from me. Way to guilt trip. (I don't think I've been to a service since September.)
So, heading home at midnight, and the fucking Legislative Hall is still lit up blue, which means either the local paper never ran my letter of Apr 2 explaining the problems with Autism $peaks and Light It Up Blue or nobody at Leg Hall gives a fuck.
Got stuck in a 50mph zone behind someone convinced it was a 40mph zone. Yes, again.
It is now an hour after getting home and I still haven't put together enough cope to go put food in my face. I am in need of food.
tl;dr: Tuesday, you are FIRED. Also, why the fuck can't I write things this long that are fictional.
7:49.
Got up and got some stuff done. Not much stuff. Wasn't braining well. Very tired. Went back to bed quarter of eleven. Got up again, annoyed and still tired, quarter past eleven. Didn't properly wake up till I got in the shower sometime around one. Noticed the plastic part of the shower curtain is beginning to mildew again.
So, having accomplished absolutely squat at home, didn't get in early for overtime hours either. Finally got off to work and spent most of my time in the 50mph zone behind someone who thought they were in a 35mph zone. (They sped up just fine when we got out to the highway. So it wasn't car trouble or anything.)
Went to Walmart because getting low on my chocolate-infused peanut butter again and that's the only place I know of that sells it. They don't seem to sell it anymore.
Work still smells like paint fumes. Not, like, the stink punches one in the face when one opens the front door, but distinctly paint-fumey nonetheless.
First piece of work I pull up to process is something I suspended back in March. Priority 2, which means we're supposed to have it completed and faxed or emailed back (as appropriate) to the client within two hours of its arrival.
This is a two-parter, first part in 'completed this ages ago' status, second part open. Comment on second part to the effect of "returning to filer per [coworker]", which is informative as fuck and also timestamped like 14:22. I of course started work at 16:00 on the dot.
Called up customer-service coworker named in comments. Recalled too late she leaves at four. Called up coworker whose initials were on it as latest person to handle it, and she swore up down and sideways it was done, printed, out the door, just needed to be completed and farewelled. Well, can't farewell a thing without either suspending or completing it (and suspends typically come back to haunt you), can't complete it without printing it (wait, didn't she say it was printed?), can't print it without stamping it, can't stamp it without seeing the image. Couldn't see the image. Couldn't get coworker with such powers to restore the image without reverting it to the initial (wrong) version, and fuck knows where the pertinent hard copy got to.
Emailed tech support. Tech support emailed back: this was done earlier in the day, talk to customer-service coworker whose initials were on the thing as first customer-service rep to handle the thing. Emailed him. Not having seen it in a month, he hadn't the faintest what to do with it. Now, mind you, this is part two of a two-parter, and while I could suspend the second part (the one with the problem that apparently got fixed earlier in the day) okay, the system chokes if someone tries to take part two of a thing while someone else has part one, and part one was in 'completed this long enough ago that no one needs the image anymore' status, and I could not suspend it or farewell it or anything except put it on hold with the rest of the sendbacks and complain further to tech support.
Yep, you guessed it. User tries to pull up the next piece of work in queue? First thing that comes up is the most urgent thing that user has on hold.
And then tech support all went home for the evening without taking the two-parter from me or otherwise figuring out how to make it get out of my workflow.
Fortunately—for given values—it was my night for Them Fuckers. There were thirteen when I got coworker-with-powers to print me a list of the request numbers. (Ten is an impressive number to complete over the course of one work day.) And I did 'em. And there were twelve more to do.
And among Them Fuckers was a four-parter. The contents of Them Fuckers are not public record, so I can't tell you what was wrong with this foursome. Suffice to say it was several doozies. And there was another one earlier with a couple doozies wrong with it, too. (The rest were thankfully pretty straightforward.)
When I got done that foursome there were six Fuckers left, and six is less than ten, so (having done a total of nineteen) fuck the rest of that, day shift can deal with those six in the morning. But of course that two-part two-hour that won't die was still top of my hold list. So I got coworker-with-powers to print me a couple lists of request numbers of things in queue to be done that night. I believe I went through five lists. There are something like thirty requests per list. (Okay, one of those lists only had one live one, because of course coworkers were pulling from the queue every couple minutes and therefore got to a bunch of my listed requests before I did. But still. And there was something ugly wrong with that one live one, too, but I forget what it was. Couldn't tell you anyway, they're not public record till processing's completed.)
By this point I've had two Pepsis, a Barq's, and a cup of tea, just to stay conscious while on the clock and in anticipation of the need to be alert on the drive home. This is approximately one Pepsi more than my typical daily caffeine consumption, and I'm sensitive to caffeine. I predict I get to sleep around three and wake up, at the latest, noon—which will not pay down any sleep debt.
The priority six work, somebody else is supposed to do the data entry so that we just have to check the document's all right, approve it, and go on our merry way. There are several somebodies else ('somebody' here defined as 'company we work with lots'). I don't know who the hell was keying things in over at this one company, but they made the same two mistakes keying in all of this one document type that I saw from them that night. This was easily a dozen of that type of document just that I personally saw.
Oh, yeah, and somewhere in there I had dinner. Two meatball Hot Pockets. I am not actually especially fond of Hot Pockets but they require six minutes total to prepare, most of which is spent waiting for the microwave to do its thing or for the pockets to cool to edible temperatures after. And they take zero cope to prepare. And usually they don't upset my stomach. Emphasis on usually. Guess what happened tonight.
And somewhere in there I checked the site where the pay stubs go and the ones for Friday's paycheck are up, and PROMOTION MONEY YAY...except I still don't know what the RegNewHire line item is for and now it's eating $64 a paycheck instead of $52.
And somewhere in there I got an email from the local UUs wishing to inquire if I meant to make a financial pledge this fiscal year, as they don't believe they've received pledge paperwork from me. Way to guilt trip. (I don't think I've been to a service since September.)
So, heading home at midnight, and the fucking Legislative Hall is still lit up blue, which means either the local paper never ran my letter of Apr 2 explaining the problems with Autism $peaks and Light It Up Blue or nobody at Leg Hall gives a fuck.
Got stuck in a 50mph zone behind someone convinced it was a 40mph zone. Yes, again.
It is now an hour after getting home and I still haven't put together enough cope to go put food in my face. I am in need of food.
tl;dr: Tuesday, you are FIRED. Also, why the fuck can't I write things this long that are fictional.
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It's spring. Why can't the queues be happy and stop barfing up things from a month ago? That blows and I am sorry.
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Even on good days, if I have to stop and think about what I'm writing, there is no way in hell I'll get to thirteen hundred words an hour. (Lately there's no way in hell I'll get to thirteen hundred words, regardless of number of hours!) That screed above is thirteen hundred words and written in an hour.
YESSS light Tuesday on fire
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Thanks!
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Hopefully Wednesday will be less awful. Goodbye, Tuesday.
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Thanks.
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LET'S HOPE