Why Did No One Tell Me?

This morning on my way to work I saw no fewer than three women in going-to-work clothes who were wearing flipflops; I shared the elevator in my building with a fourth.  Now, I’ll grant that in three cases they were “fancy” flipflops, in that the straps were made of gilded or otherwise decorated leather, but they were flipflops nonetheless.

I get that it’s summer; I get that the owners of the fancier versions probably think of the shoes as “sandals”.  But they aren’t; they’re flipflops.  When did the rules change such that the shoes I spent every summer of my childhood in are considered adequate for office wear?

Or am I just getting old?

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I’m Sorry, You Seem To Have Mistaken Me For Someone Who Cares

Email from someone in the office saying, “Hi, these people don’t know what to do to sign up for the meeting!  Fix it!”

Screw off.  I take the reservations and put ’em in a spreadsheet, dude, I don’t answer questions.  You people do not pay me enough to think.

What We Have Here

If I don’t know what the problem is–if I don’t know there is a problem–I cannot fix it.

You’d think this would be plenty fucking obvious, wouldn’t you?

Apparently not.

Becoming Clear

I think I’m realizing why the former occupant of this cube wanted to move out of it.  She claimed at the time that she could smell the restroom, which is patent nonsense as the cleaning schedule is perfectly adequate; we all thought she was just being snippy about wanting her own office.

But having been here six months or so, I’m thinking perhaps that wasn’t everything.  The problem is the cube’s neighbor.

I like the person who’s in the next cube over; she’s nice enough and worth talking to.  But the woman just will not stop bitching.  There’s the My Boss Is Mean bitch, and the My Husband Doesn’t Love Me bitch, and the I Have To Work Late Periodically bitch…those are the big three, with digressions into whatever’s bugging her today.

To be fair, she does make an effort to keep things quiet; it’s not like she’s having these discussions at full volume.  Of course that means I only get about 3 words out of 5, for that lovely half-a-conversation effect.

And the thing is, she never changes anything.  It’s always the same complaints about the same topics.  I don’t love this job, but if I hated it as much as she seems to hate hers I’d get a new one or at least work on making things more bearable…

Dead at Work

There are about 4 people in the office today besides me, and you’d think this would be the perfect opportunity to get some hardcore data entry done.  Except for the guy who has decided that Christmas music, just loud enough that no one not at his desk can hear it clearly, is the proper accompaniment for his work experience today.

I do not in general listen to the iPod while working, but I think I might have to make an exception.

Yes, But Can You Code?

God save me from IT people who want to be hackers.

One of the IT guys here starts all his messages with a header that reads THIS IS A FLASH MESSAGE FROM “[PRETENTIOUS NICKNAME]”.   All the text is in bold.  He has an animated picture in his sig.  And he lectures us about not having enough storage space on the email servers.

My machine here would never get defragmented if I didn’t know how to do it.  More to the point, it would never get defragmented if I didn’t know it needs to be done.  It’s not a matter of having gotten an email saying “This needs to be done, we don’t have the time, here’s how”; it just isn’t done, period, unless the user knows to do it and does it.

We had a meeting today, telling us that we need to go through and clean up our own files in a specific way.  I can’t give any more details than that, because we essentially weren’t given any.  We showed up and were told there was a problem; we were told to check a specific thing.  What we weren’t told was what a bad result would look like or how to tell a safe file from a bad file.  That’s going to be in an email, on Monday…because of course it wouldn’t have been useful to, say, have a handout ready when we got there.  Or, you know, use one of the computers in the room–perhaps the one with the attached projector–to show us the procedure and what to look for.  No, he just stood at the front of the room and told us there was a big problem, with a strong undercurrent of “Because you guys know nothing about computers.”  Feh.  You wanna be a whitehat, go work in the real world, because running IT for local government?  Not impressive.

Cow-orking for Fun and Profit

One of the people in my office is, quite simply, stupid.  OK, several of the people who work in my office are stupid, but one in particular.  I just had to stand there for 5 minutes watching this person scan a document–this despite the fact that we’ve all been shown how, and that there is a packet with full-color screen shots explaining how it’s done.  But no, I had to stand there and watch to be sure it got done right.

If you’re that stupid, how the heck did you get a job in the first place?

(Addendum: I should note here that this is hardly the only dumb thing this person has ever done.  Also I am well aware that I have Intolerance:Stupidity on my character sheet, so please don’t bother telling me I’m being mean and it’s not a stupid person’s fault that they’re stupid.  I know that; I still can’t abide being around them.)