Tag Archives: incompetence

Reportus Maximus

5 Apr


Our newest contract seller is a paper-working Drama Queen. 

…At least twice per day, I am instigating report updates for their accounts at a Corporate level, which no one actually reads or ever even looks at.  That is, unless a customer gets pissed off for some reason, and then the entire fleet goes to work in a mass email-sending frenzy that would equal those in the final planning stages of D-Day, had all the generals in all the countries involved, shared a cloud network system.

…Everyone starts yelling, tagging everyone else, but no one reads what the others have responded, so you end up answering the same question ten times…the same question that would have been answered Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday as well, had any of them seen fit to read the multiple reports they are constantly forcing us to run, compute, and send in.

Why everyone in this company gets off on sheer fucking panic, is totally beyond me.

…They must though.  Otherwise, why in the hell do they insist on doing this to themselves?

One or two slight changes, actually OPENING original emails sent, answering questions the first time instead of the 26th…these are all simple, simple solutions that would make their lives infinitely easier. 

…But then, we are talking about Corporate here.  The people who sell something for two weeks on the main market before the final manufacturing blue prints have even been stamped, let ALONE, the product assembled for shipping in the warehouse. 

…These are the same people who have an Accounts Department for a National Company, which doesn’t actually DO “accounts” they just “facilitate” them…a word that no one seems to be able to define clearly, least of all, the Accounts Department.

…These are the same people who spend entire weeks in Vegas at a Corporate Convention, getting pissed out of their minds and trying to figure out how to write off a stripper on their expense account.

…The same people who will spend $10 to Fedex a single check on next-day Saturday delivery, for three weeks running, because the sorting office keeps putting it in the wrong branch’s fucking envelope, but will NOT allow you to purchase a Bic ballpoint pen from Staples, because it is a costly name-brand.

…I don’t understand these people, and have long since given up even trying to.

All I know is that it is Friday, the paychecks have just come in, and as I complete sorting them against the 18th report this week, and updating my 19th, all I can say is:

“You have me for five more hours, assholes. Only just five. So get those final last-minutes emails out of your systems now, so I can finish babysitting you for the week and get on to more important matters. Like reading, and buying new show underwear.”


Sometimes, It’s Just Not Funny

9 Oct


When the Whs dudes get pissed, they have this little system. 

…It involves demolishing things: product that is already compromised, trucks in the yard that no longer run…I’ve heard tell of it more than I’ve seen it in action, but I have to say, the enticement it offers, far surpasses most anything else.  Great feats in their past include forking a diesel one-ton into the air at its top-most height, than shoving it off, busting tires, shocks, struts, engine pieces and windows at random.  Another (ongoing) is to run into same said truck, with forks primed, and skewer it repeatedly like it is no more than a tin can or something made from aluminum foil.

…They will, upon occasion, shoot nail guns at the dead product pile, annihilating it further as it spews splinters in mini explosions like a machine gun in War.  I’m told that shattering cracked glass is also edifying in accomplishment, or putting a fist through a wood panel…in which case, I will just have to take their word for it.

…All I know is that in the fucked up lunatic asylum that is the “office,”  I don’t have anything to take my frustrations out on but people.  Believe me, nothing would make me happier than to slam my stapler through my office window, bursting it like a bomb instantly.  I would be very content to kick the absolute shit out of the file drawers until they are nothing but dented safes of paper that no one would be able to gain access to, ever again.  I’ve has fantasies of pitching the phone up in the air, and whacking it with a 2 x 4 for a shattering Home Run.  There were less sadistic evil tortures done during the Dark Ages, than I’d like to commit daily, to my computer.  Very few Politicians I hate get me angrier than my Boss on any given day of the week, and when I have HAD it, there is almost not a prop or piece of office equipment…right down to a paperclip, post-it, or a pen, that I could not easily forsee committing homicide with. And this all happens at LEAST once per day without fail.

…Which is NOT a good environment to be in 40 +  hours per week.

I know I am no alone in this. Plenty of people loath their jobs…but they also (most of them) seem to at some point (apparently) come to peace about it, deal accordingly and move on.  I, however, being an exceedingly stubborn person in which “fairness” and “competency” rates higher most days than breathing, absolutely CANNOT come to grips with the hand I’ve been dealt.  Some days are worse than others.  Yes.  But even the not-so-bad days, make jesting about the environment more than I can manage until I’ve put a day between me and whatever it is THIS time, that has royally pissed me off.

…And sure, I’ve had plenty of people say, “well, why don’t you just quit?” And I’ve asked myself that question too, only every twenty minutes in every day.  But the point is: I can’t.  I’m a grown up, with bills to pay, and another career to tend to.  I can’t afford to leave.  Because I can’t afford to drop in pay for 90 days, and any position higher will require me to be on salary with my time at someone else’s beck and call.

…So instead, I implode about crap, give it air time, throw it up in a blog, and try to make light of it, to take away from the power it holds over me.  But it knows it.  I don’t know who I’m really kidding, frankly.  But it seems like the more positive thing to do.  So I do it.

…And I’m doing it now, from my car (again), taking a lunch minus food…just me with my computer and some Netflix, jerry-rigging a sort of drive-in theatre environment for a half hour or whatever, just to cool me down a bit so I don’t go on a rampage shooting staples at the Boss’s face.

It’s all I could think of.

…Well, that and setting the whole place on fire.

But being in jail on arson charges doesn’t fit in my rehearsal schedule, really.

I checked.


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