Tag: Work

Fun, Humor, Satisfaction, Work October 13, 2009October 13, 2009

Can You Hear Me Now?

“Technology makes it possible for people to gain control over everything, except technology.”
– John Tudor

Our resident IT guy (a species who, as you may remember, is the ancient enemy of secretaries) coming up to me one day and saying, “I’m going to take your phone so that the dispatch center in the stadium can have it.”
C. asking quickly as he started walking away, “Um, can I get a new one?”
“Yeah, the old stadium one. It doesn’t work very well, so good luck with that.”

Irritation.

“New phone” being broken to the point that it isn’t recognizing picking up or hanging up, and the surface scratched so badly the screen is unreadable. Dozens of incoming messages being lost into the netherworld of dropped/missed calls. Calling up the IT gods where they wither in their dark, lonely cave and demand a solution. An actual New Phone getting installed and C. learning from the IT minions how to personally program the phone’s appearance.

Satisfaction.

Small Dog's means are few, but she takes what she can get!

The office IT guy strolling by and looking down at the screen, where he sees, “WHY ARE YOU READING THIS?!” blazoned across it, and jumps about a mile. C. seeing the whole thing.

Priceless.

Home, Humor, Marriage October 9, 2009October 9, 2009

Putting It To Bed. Sort Of.

“Early to rise,
Early to bed,
Makes a man healthy,
But socially dead.”
-Animaniacs

J. and I make all sorts of good decisions, with fine intentions, and solemn promises to comply with our goals. None of which work when slapped with reality. Case in point? Going to bed at a reasonable hour. We can’t do it. Nevermind that I have work at 8am and if he’s a millisecond late to class his homework won’t be accepted. Somehow we scrape through everyday but it’s been by the skin of our teeth every time.

Smokes like a chimney, drinks like a fish, adulterates hourly. And yet so appealing. A conundrum.

This past sunday night I turned to him very seriously and said, “We have to start getting up earlier, ergo, going to bed earlier.”
“Ok,” he said, “nine thirty?”
“Good idea.”
I then stayed up until nearly midnight because The Great Escape was on, and who doesn’t want to watch Steve McQueen nearly jump the border into Austria (chased by the entire Nazi army who sprung from nowhere)? And last night, J. was doing evil accounting homework, so what other choice did I have but to watch episode after episode of Mad Men? None whatsoever! And I certainly couldn’t have stopped myself from going to Blockbuster and getting the next two DVDs.

The real problem isn’t going to bed…it’s getting up. When I was a student I could stay up for hours (or days if it was exam week) and I don’t think I’ve lost the ability, just the will. The weather is growing delightfully more and more chilly, it’s getting gradually darker in the mornings (which is a blessing because I can’t sleep if there’s any light at all), and I have this nice warm husband to cuddle up against. Waking up just doesn’t seem nearly as good in comparison.

Friends, Humor, Work October 2, 2009November 3, 2009

Here To Help

“Dispatch, from 81.”
“Go ahead, C.”
“Um…just checking to see if we were on the right channel. Er…thanks.”
WOOOOOOP!! (Police Car Siren)
“Hennessy!”
“Sorry!”
“What did you push?!”
“I don’t know!”
-C., Dispatch, and Hennessy

So, Hennessy and I got to play with the radio and sirens again today. As you can see from the above quote, it went over very well.

See, about three weeks ago, Lt. Citrus came to me and told me, “In a couple of weeks I’m going to give you an assignment to get some jackets done up for security at the games. New patches and such, I’ll let you know more about it later.”
And after that? Silence until last friday when he stomped up to my desk and barked, “Have you done anything with that project I gave you? I need those jackets done right now, what have you done?”
“You didn’t give me the go-ahead, or tell me exactly what you needed,” I said, confused.
“Yes I did!” he snapped. “This patch with this logo across the back. Fix it!”

So Hennessy and I drove to (and through!) the stadium to pick up over one hundred jackets, get them sorted out, and today had to go pick them up so they could be used in upcoming football games. With a variety of police equipment technical…incidents…along the way.

I believe the order was for...strapping? (Editor's Note: none of our officers even remotely resemble this guy)

However, we got to use the radio for some fun, which made it all better. Pulling up to the station, I called Dispatch again (in a much more composed manner).
“Dispatch from 81.”
“Go ahead.”
“We’ve got a rather large order here. Can you dispatch some strapping men to us for heavy lifting and slave labor? Over.”
Two minutes later, five or six chuckling officers put in an appearance, a couple of them flexing.

It made my day. Or it could be that I’m getting out early on a friday…yeah…that could be it too…

Humor, Stupid People, Work September 24, 2009November 4, 2009

Typical Thursday, Part II

(Transcript of actual conversation that took place over the phone, ten minutes after we were done with Angry Law Student)

Caller: Hi this is ______, and I have a question for you.
C: How can I help you?
Caller: I’m wondering what it would take to get a parking permit for a horse on campus.
C: …I’m going to need a bit of background info on that question, sir…
Caller: Well, we’re trying to recruit this guy for the swim team and he loves his horses. So I jokingly told him we could get him a parking permit so he could ride his horse to school, and he really seemed interested. So, can I get him a permit or what do I need to do?
C: …Sir, you can’t park a horse anywhere. It’s a living animal.
Caller: Can’t he just tie to a bikerack or something? All we need is the permit.
C: Sir, I can’t issue you a motor vehicle permit for a horse!
Caller: Oh really! I want you to check with your supervisor, right now!
C: Yes, sir.

(Puts caller on hold and calls Lt. Figaro. Meanwhile Hennessy and Officer Lampost are cracking up just hearing my end of the conversation)

C: Figaro, I have a gentleman on the phone who would like to park a horse on campus.
Figaro: I beg your pardon?
C: Just what I said. Please tell me the answer is no, so I can relay the message.
Figaro: Of course it’s no! We don’t have the place for it…who would clean up after it!
C: I’m glad that’s our priority here, but I’ll let him know.

"The 'neighs' have it?" Oh come now, C, you're not going to pull that pun, are you?

C: Sir, I spoke with the lieutenant, and the answer is most definitely no.
Caller: But why not?!
C: Because we don’t have an equestrian program here, which means we don’t have the facilities, equipment, tack, food, or pasturing for it.
Caller: Not even to a bikerack?
C: Tying it to a bikerack for hours at a time in the desert summer or the winter blizzards is not an option, sir.
Caller: But I’ve seen horses on campus before!
C: We bring a single pony onto campus one day a year for a demonstration in equine therapy for the physical therapy students, and you may have seen police on horseback for holiday parades or football games, but that isn’t with our department. We don’t have an equestrian police force.
Caller: So what am I supposed to tell our recruit?
C: I have no idea, sir.
Caller: No horse?
C: Absolutely no horse, sir.
Caller: Humph! Well thanks for nothing.

*click*

Drama, Humor, School, Stupid People, University, Work September 24, 2009November 3, 2009

Typical Thursday, Part I

“Angry people are not always wise.”
-Jane Austen

A law student came into the office today, demanding more parking for graduate students. With the new parking system, still not completely patched and just limping along, lots of students have been taking advantage of the absence of usual oversight by parking wherever they want: handicapped stalls, dean and administrator lots, etc. Which means that when (and if) this new system starts functioning properly, a whole lot of people are in for a nasty surprise. I forsee the university setting up a new scholarship fund out of the proceeds, but I digress.

We apologized for the inconvenience and said it should be corrected in a month, but that did no good. As Lt. Figaro explained the policy regarding each of her complaints, she kept changing her argument and problem until she was eventually asking for us to build new parking, or take parking away from other people to give to graduate students.
“We already have about one parking space per three grad students and special lots for you,” Figaro said, wearily, “as opposed to one in five for the rest of our students.”
“But we need more!”

“Ma’am,” I said, “we have thousands of students currently attending, plus several thousand more faculty, staff, administrative, service personnel, and contractors who come to this school everyday. Plus there is another university in the next city over. This area was never meant to accomodate nearly XXX thousand extra people, city planning hasn’t kept up with it in the past two generations. You’re asking us for space that we cannot give you, because it literally does not exist.”
“But I spent forty-five minutes circling that parking lot to find a space yesterday!”
“Well,” offered Figaro, “did you try parking at the basketball arena or football stadium and walking?”
She gasped in outrage, “All that way?!”

Drama, Fashion, Humor, Work September 15, 2009November 3, 2009

Fabulous

“Oh…WOW…the eyebrows…”
“Nothing about those things are ok…”
-Hildegarde and C.

No, your friendly neighborhood Small Dog hasn’t shuffled off this mortal coil…she only wishes she had.

In my quest for all knowledge about U.S. Law Enforcement, and deep and abiding passion for all things criminal (the first part was sarcastic…the second not as much), I am being subjected to…I mean fortunately able to attend training with Hennessy and Hildegarde. None of us are particularly thrilled because Hildegarde has to be “trained” to use a database she’s been using for years, and Hennessy and I have to go to learn how to use the system to run background checks on people. However, due to some things we learned this morning, Hennessy and I are worried that we aren’t going to legally be able to use this system to run the kind of background checks Chief and Sgt. M want us to. In fact such a use of this system seems to bring snarling FBI agents down like locusts.

However, in spite of my grumblings there are the odd perks of an all-day-three-day training meeting in the city. The first is obviously that I get out of the office for nearly a week, the second is that with travel time tacked on I’m getting all sorts of overtime, third is getting to wear jeans on the clock, and the last is the comedic value of the instructors!

I am not even close to joking. Can you imagine this a bit more Queen-ed up? That's our man!

Metro Marko, as he is apparently named (I overheard a conversation), and his wife are expecting their first kid any second now. However, and I jest not, the first time I clapped eyes on him I could have sworn he was a drag queen. It wasn’t the tightness of the clothes, the painstakingly coiffed hair, or even the facial features (though they are suspect). This man has eyebrows more finely plucked than my own, which lent him a Spock a la Nathan Lane in The Birdcage air.

And in continuing poor fashion choices news, our other instructor has the Jon and Kate + – ⅝ √ Ω ∞ 8 mom haircut. She’s trying to grow it out so she’s managed to make the reverse mullet look even worse. She screams everything, especially her jokes, and says the same thing several times in a row. Much to the class’ amusement!

All in all, the true downside of this class has been discovering that I’m nearly a month late in registering my car. Blast!

Humor, Snark, Work September 1, 2009

Kids These Days!

“‘So, I’m like, a new student? And I like need a parking permit? Do I like, get that like here?'”
“Wow. You are scary good at that voice…”
-C., mocking the freshman, TenFour being scared

University is like, hard and stuff! LOL!

Seriously! Do these girls only speak in questions, or do they just naturally intone upwards at the end of sentences? I am getting emails sans punctuation, sans capitalization, sans everything! Numbers used as letters, emoticons, and oh the misspellings. How exactly did they get into university, one might inquire?

Listening to them talk as they walk across campus is mind-numbing. Between slang and poor grammar, you can barely understand what they’re saying. The word “like” features heavily, conjunctions do not (I’m looking at you, Venice, as a English and grammar teacher to correct this is your rising seventh graders)

These kids even dress badly, attempted Vogue meets train wreck (and not Vivienne Westwood style, either). They don’t read signs that direct them where to go on campus. They get in an unbelievable amount of car wrecks. Their bikes get impounded when they chain them to “Please Lock Your Bike On A Rack Or It Will Be Impounded” signs. They can’t make eye contact because they’re texting incessantly.

To these kids, the Berlin Wall has only existed in history text books!

Holy crap, listen to me! I’m a GEEZER at 23…

Friends, Humor, Work August 25, 2009November 3, 2009

Observations of a Grump

“Common sense is not so common.”
-Voltaire

bad day A couple things that I noticed today because I’m (still) in a rather bad mood and grouchy towards the silliness of my job. Such an attitude invariably spills over into other aspects of life and I do recognize that I need to snap out of it soon. I’ll put on rose colored glasses again shortly, but meanwhile I’m still way too irritated!

1) In spite of the hiring freeze the University has imposed on every department, they were still able to give all employees a raise, which was rather lovely. However it was my job to individually calibrate and apply said raise to all 150+ of our student employees, which was rather horrible. And despite several emails to student employee supervisors warning them that this project would take several days and that they would have to get any other wage changes to me before then, a pile of “so-sorry-I’m-late-but-it’-just-been-crazy-and-don’t-you-look-nice-today-could-you-possibly-help-me-out” paperwork stealthily grew on my desk. Which was rather irritating, but manageable. However, today a new bunch of supervisor raises appeared on my desk and one kid, when you add up all his raises together, is getting a 10% wage increase because (and this I quote from the supervisor comment section of the form), “He has improved very much. He now diligently wears black socks.” This kid will end up making nearly as much as me because he has finally learned to match his footwear to the black shoes, pants, and belt his uniform requires?! (*teeth grind*)

2) Even after many requests, nigh unto begging, they still will not update the office website! Currently people trying to muddle through our new (still now quite functioning) parking monitoring program call the number listed on the parking and traffic website…which sends them straight to my phone. However hearing, “University police,this is C.,” tends to make people start panicking a little. (*head shake*)

duh_award1 3) And it’s not just work being ridiculous! Driving to work today I heard a commercial. “The current credit crunch and recession making it hard for you to buy a car or house? Something drastic must be done! We have bailout money for YOU YOU YOU! Good credit, bad, credit, no credit? High income, low income? Doesn’t matter, you WILL be approved for your big purchase!”

Now…wasn’t it the poor decisions on the part of lenders/banks/credit companies to lend people money that they didn’t qualify for (coupled with people thinking that their actual income should not be a factor in purchases) that got this country in the financial mess it’s in? (*facepalm*)

There! I finally feel purged of the angst! At least, I’ve complained myself hoarse, and that tends to make for a bad dinner conversation, I’m pretty sure my poor in-laws got an ear-full of it sunday night, to say nothing of my long-suffering husband! I’m grabbing dinner with Catriona tonight who apparently has much to gossip about, (but won’t even give me any hints as to what, the minx!) so I have to be in prime perked ears position. Vent-fest over.

Drama, Humor, Life, Work August 20, 2009August 20, 2009

Office Worker: n. resident of Dante’s Ninth Circle of Hell

“Is it just me, or is this whole thing going to Hell in a hand basket?”
“Just wave your magic wand and make it all better.”
“How about a stapler? I have one of those and I think it packs more of a punch when it hits.”
-C. and Officer Lampost

One upon a time, the parking office, which is not controlled by the police department, had a novel idea. “Why don’t we,” they said to one another, “do away with this medieval notion of parking permits that you stick on your window or hang from your mirror and instead invest millions of dollars in a new digital license plate reader system that will simply take a picture of the plate, compare the info to a database, and automatically write tickets!”
“Brilliant!” said University Administration. “But hey, folks, we are in the middle of a recession. Is this a good idea?”
“Sure,” said the Parking Powers, “it will only cost XXX amount of money, require fewer man hours to run, and reduce costs all around.”
“How economical!” exclaimed the University, “Go for it!”

futility Six months later…the Office of IT had not even started writing the program, the bare bones equipment was costing three times more than projected, we had to hire even more people to keep the office running, supervisors were not listening to the traffic and parking clerks when they explained what they needed in the new system, no one had thought that perhaps students/faculty coming to this university might be coming from out of state/country and so the program would need a way to account for that, and days away from the new system going live, the office hadn’t even received a prototype of the program to run.

Ergo, this whole week the entire office has been overrun with techie-types (and everyone of them with the stereotypical thick glasses, receding hairlines, and nasally voices…it’s been weird) scampering about frantically trying to patch a program they didn’t know they had to write, written in a matter of a couple of weeks, and left with enough holes in it that it might legally qualify as a sieve.

Sorry, IT guys, e-card just aren't going to cut it...

The funny bit in this mess is how the IT guys seem to be trying to apologize for their blunders. The office has spent the week overrun with flowers, balloons, sugary treats, and take out meals. I would just like to have been a fly on the wall while they were working this out…
“Crap, guys, we’ve screwed it up royally and now we have an office full of women all barking mad to get this thing online and absolutely furious with us. Brainstorm, quick! Best way to make it up?”
“They’re women! Flowers and chocolate all the way, dude!”

I don’t even work for the parking division, but I would hazard a guess that as much as the girls are enjoying the perks of having a dozen erring husbands groveling for forgiveness…they might prefer the new system working instead.

stupidity_1170973245 — Can you exorcise this stuff? Fingers crossed!

And in continuing office news, after the Rising of the Secretaries (spearheaded by yours truly) and ample warning, I am wheeling out the guillotine! Today all unclaimed lockers and uniforms will be confiscated, gear will be redistributed to kids who are actually working, all paperwork will be filed and discrepancies will be punished. At noon we attack!

Family, Humor, Life, Weird August 12, 2009August 12, 2009

Pregnancy. Scares.

“I myself prefer dogs.”
–Catherine Called Birdy, by Karen Cushman

Ever since getting married (a grand total of a month and a half ago) I wait with baited breath for Mother Nature to confirm that I’m not pregnant every 28 days. That’s right, I actively look forward to That Time of the Month to reassure myself that a Mini C./J. is not in the works. In days leading up to it I get unbelievably tense and engage in ridiculous conversations that I’m guaranteed to regret 4-5 days later.
“Does this milk smell off? …CRAP! I’m pregnant!”
“No you’re not,” says J. with an irritated but still loving roll of the eyes. “The milk’s bad.”
“Oh.” (Goes back to pouring cereal)

While he's blithely unaffected, I'm getting haunting visions of THIS!

Occasionally I can border on the paranoid. The first month after marriage I was “late,” which mean two whole days of angst that I think I hid well but during which I secretly gnawed my metaphoric nails to the wrist.
“What if I’m pregnant?” I demanded morbidly one night as we brushed our teeth.
“You’re not,” J. said (again, and just as irritated/patiently).
“But what if I am?!”
“Well, that’ll certainly change things.”
“How can you be so calm??!!” I hissed.
“About a purely hypothetical situation?” he countered.

I trust he would be a better father than this...

See, even though it would “change things,” I don’t think J.’s world would be rocked to the core if the Fates decided to play this horrid, horrid joke on us. But then again, he’s not the one who would have to host this alien parasite for nine months, forcibly expel it, and then still find a way to be the primary breadwinner for our family in addition to a full time parent. I’m a tough girl, I can handle quite a bit, but the mere thought of that last scenario makes my knees knock in quivering terror.

And I’m sorry, I don’t even find babies cute! Anathema, I know…but just think about it! They’ve got these big alien heads they can’t support, they don’t communicate (in any language I speak, or will until I do decide to breed), and if there is an opening in their body anywhere, something gross is coming out of it. I like little kids better. I’ll take the Terrible Two’s over the Irrevocably-Broken-If-I-Touch-It Infants any day of the week!

Now, before I’m burned at the stake, I know I’m going to think my own children have been individually sprinkled with awesome dust. I’ll probably even think they’re cute in spite of the many varieties of goo seeping out of them (my husband’s a fine piece of work, if I do say so myself, and I don’t look like a horse, so the odds are in our favor). Just…not yet. Not for a few years. Not while he’s in school, not while I still have to work, and not while the idea still turns me into a catatonic mess.

And even though deep down I can admit I look forward to having a family with J. (a long way down the road), I suspect in the meantime, every 28 days, I’ll be going through this same process of fear, soul searching, and grudging resignation. At least I am assured of one ally.
“How long is this going to go on?” I whined to Venice after Scare #1.
She came back with a chipper, “12 times a year. Enjoy!”

Small Dog Syndrome