I'm in about a half-hour earlier than I normally would be, thinking it'll give me a chance to catch up with email and the other odd things that may have popped up while I was gone before the normal routine sets in. Except, before I'm even properly in my chair I hear the wireless phone ringing. And ringing. The wireless phone a certain Zippy should be manning from a half-hour previous to my point of entry.
It only took three rings for me to realize, we're Zippy free. So, I go grab the phone, and start answering the string of voicemails left on it.
One by one the user requests and strange, "we've always been able to do that before" diatribes from people who've never actually been able to do that before begin to pile up around me as my email sits unanswered and MY actual work goes untended to take care of fucktar. . . er, I mean Zippy's work for the morning. And by the voicemail on the phone, most of yesterday afternoon as well.
By the time BB makes it in, I'm burnt out again and ready to scream.
By mid afternoon things had progressed to the point where I went to the bathroom, washed my hands, and the paper-towel dispenser decided to be a smart ass. Seriously, no paper towels and trying to manually push the little round-e-round thing-a-ma-bob (technical term from the janitorial staff) to get it to reset just made it wiggle like it was coming off the wall.
So I stand there cursing under my breath, shaking my hands about to let them air dry.
I had a chat with the boss and casually mentioned that I'm gonna just go ahead and assume that Zippy won't be making it in the rest of the week. See, he sent an email at 6:15 this morning to us all saying that his wife and baby are sick, so he has to stay home to take care of them both. Good show moron. So, the boss says, and I quote, "this is getting ridiculous. If he's early guy, he needs to man up and be early guy. I'm gonna call him and I'll let you know if you need to cover tomorrow or not."
I get an email later from the boss:
Zippy said he will be in tomorrow. I told him he owes you a soda for covering for him.
Now, unbeknownst to the boss or anybody else, I've been completely caffeine free for four days. But, on some level, on top of all the other bullshit going on, this irked me slightly. So I responded in the most polite fashion I could:
Thanks. I'll extract payment from his sou. . .er, um, I mean, I'll take juice or something instead.
Oh that's no problem, I did add "or something" so your options are wide open and not limited to beverages!
Now, I'm not real clear on the specific legalities, but I'm pretty sure the boss just gave me permission to extract payment from Zippy's soul, if he has one. Any legal experts care to weigh in?
We've got some n00blet out on one of the finish lines that thinks he's gonna play the IT department like a fiddle. Pulled me out there twice today for stupid reasons. Reason one? Couldn't pull up something that NO ONE IN THE BUILDING HAS EVER BEEN ABLE TO PULL UP EVER. I explained it to him. He let it go, for a moment. He called later with reason two. His printer has lights on everywhere and he can't find anything wrong PLS FX NAO BITCH! I run out there, it's the Zebra and it's out of ribbon. Completely out. Which he'd know if he had looked at it as he claimed he had. So, I have to run all the way back upstairs to grab ribbon, run all the way back out, and as I'm setting it up, he asks me again about the thing he supposedly wanted to pull up and when it'll be fixed. I explained again that it's not something to fix, it's just the way it is. It's never been pulled up, it can't be pulled up, it will not ever be able to be pulled up. He said, and I quote, "I've always been able to pull it up before."
It was the wrong time of day to say that to me. I snapped. I screamed over the machinery, "NO YOU HAVE NOT." The fact that I know this guy hasn't worked here for more than about two weeks and that I know this particular part of the system like the back of my hand, well, yeah, that didn't help his case any.
He replied, "Oh. I see." Lowered his head and then walked away.
I hate speaking to the people on the floor as if they are small children that need scolded, because most of them are far more human acting than the high muckety mucks and their constant porn spam forwarding, but when they absolutely REFUSE to acknowledge a reality that is right there in front of them, what other choice is there?
His boss came to me later to ask what actually happened because he was apparently crying to her over it. I explained what it was he was trying to do and she cut me off saying, "they can't do that."
"Which is what I tried to tell him. Twice."
"And that's why you yelled at him?"
"Right. And now he's gonna have a woman yell at him too."
I like her. One of the few in the supervisory positions that doesn't act like her people are heaven sent and all other departments are fucktards just for existing.
So that was the one bright spot in my otherwise inglorious return to work. I have a few minutes left to kill. I'm gonna kill them thinking up ways to make Zippy's day fun for him tomorrow. If he actually shows up. Which I'm not counting on.
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