Meh, it was enough to cover my new microphone and a good enough tripod boom stand to hold it. Should arrive in time for me to get back to ok to rawk out status. And then the studio will be back to production and off this holding pattern.
Again, Mrs. NFB has been instrumental (HA HA, get it?) in pushing this project along and allowing me my vices. Thanks be to supportive SOs.
There were two incidents yesterday that left me a little queasy when it comes to work. The first was covered in the hole and involved HR and a strange need to not have a telephone extension/email address directory. The second was a whole new level of Zippydom that left both BB and myself completely baffled. In fact, this one was so far up into the Never-Neverland-o-sphere that even the boss was left scratching his head.
He got, and logged, a call from the kids upstairs (customer service). There is a certain item we build that requires an external supplied part. Our original supplier no longer makes said part. So, the call came to the helldesk, "you need to go online and do a search for this part for me."
Now, there are several viable options in a case like this, any of which would have been acceptable even to the boss.
- Tell them to go fuck themselves.
- The kinder option: direct them towards purchasing.
- Do a cursory google search, if nothing is returned direct them towards purchasing.
Even I would have been OK with that last one. It goes above and beyond, yet doesn't suck up inordinate amounts of our time. Makes us look good without actually destroying time needed to do real work.
See, I can be a team player. What I refuse to be is a team whipping boy.
Zippy is, unfortunately, not so inclined.
What option did he choose? Spend two hours looking for this part in every known possible search engine under every possible name for said part he could imagine and then trying to call various suppliers which we, in the IT department, have no business contacting ever.
Finally, unable to take it any longer, I went to the boss to ask if this is really what the helpdesk is for. I calmly explained that, in my mind, the correct way to deal with this would be a quick search, then say that purchasing probably would have better luck through their resources. The boss, amazingly, agreed, and immediately called in Zippy to find out WTF he thought he was doing.
But this morning on my walk up to the building, that and the HR finagle hit me like a ton of bricks. I work with this? REALLY? It's a wonder we're still in business at all. I think of the amount of profit that slips through the cracks of stupidity around me and wonder how anything ever gets accomplished.
Not that I think it's better elsewhere. And that's the real kicker. Shit, I remember working for $computer_corp. Holy shit. BB and I reviewed our past history with $computer_corp yesterday afternoon. We both worked there. Him on the phones, me in the service department. We're not exactly shocked that they fell apart. We are shocked it took that long.
(Late Addition: I just realized we have three people from $computer_corp's HR department in the lead in our current HR department. FMYLIFE.)
So, anyway, my job today is to clean up the employee directory. And by clean up, we mean get rid of it. Well, most of it. Yep. That's right. HR wins. Still being discussed: the built-in phone directory on the IP phones, and the exchange address book. The fact that they, meaning HR themselves, print out the same information six times a year and post it willy-nilly on every wall in the building hasn't been addressed yet.
Information wants to be strangled and choked until the oxygen is rendered completely null from it's lifeless corpse. This is my job. This is IT.
I really think what's doing me in is this silly doctor restriction thing this week. Being at work and not being able to do my daily ritualistic guitar flailing is killing me slowly. I can feel it building up. That same feeling I have any time I can't play and/or bike and/or do my silly little physical rituals. The idea of waiting a week from my procedure seems a little arbitrary, but at the same time I do still feel things aren't quite, "yeah I could totally run around just fine now," in status. More, "if I shift just wrong it still feels iffy." Dammit.
I would just pick up the fiddle and try to sit still while dorking around, but I know me. I can't.
I remember one of my old friend's dads had a beautiful Martin from way the hell back in the nether regions of time that he let me play every once in a while. My lord I loved that guitar. She and her dad would sit and watch me, her with stars in her eyes, her dad with the obvious fear any guitarist feels when his pride and joy is in another's hands. It would literally take every ounce of restraint I had to keep myself in check. And it's not like my regular playing routine is to beat the hell out of an instrument. Quite the contrary. I take care of my instruments. But the appearance as I cavort and jump, slam and jive, can be quite frightening, even to those who do understand.
With that guitar I knew I couldn't. So I would sit perched on the edge of the couch, concentrate on melody and rhyme, and hold myself still. These days I'd just politely decline the opportunity. I knew then it would kill him if something happened to the guitar, so I restrained myself. As I've grown older I've lost the ability to remain restrained for long. I play what I play, acoustic, electric, violin, piano, guitar. I don't care. Eventually I'm gonna stand up and start moving.
I know me.
And me is screaming to get back out and do what I do.
Quiet you, only three more days.
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