Monday, January 30, 2006

I may as well retitle this chronicle "Young upwardly mobile professional bitches about slightly sub-par working environment," but looks hard to remember. This is a transcription, to the best of my memory, of an exchange I had today with a (slightly sub-par) coworker:

Me: "Yeah, have you guys been having problems with [company]?"

Employee: "Yes, but Bob in purchasing is dealing with it."

M: "But, isn't it your vendor?"

E: "Yes, but I just have what he gave me. I don't know anything."

M: "But they are your vendor."

E: "Yes, but I just put in the invoices."

Sigh. Speak with Bob. Bob has things under control, even though it's not his job and is clearly something he shouldn't be dealing with. Ten minutes later:

E: "Did you talk to Bob?"

M: "Yeah, he's actually got your side of the problem taken care of. You'll just be doing P.O.s. You shouldn't have any more problems. Except for these parts where we don't pay the taxes and finance charges. They think we owe them money still, blah blah blah, could you shoot an email to [company] and tell them we don't pay these taxes or penalties?"

E: "That's not my job. You can write a letter. I'm not writing anything."

M: "But they are your vendor--"

And then I shoot myself in the fucking face and, in my last moments of life write "Fucking unions" in my blood on the window.

I don't consider myself overly ambitious. In fact, I'm pretty damn lazy. I do about as much work as it takes (in my opinion) not to get yelled at. It appears that I'm aiming for the fucking stars, at this place, though. Work sits dormant on desks for weeks at a time. Responses that should take a hour take a month. Problems get filed in a mysterious "problem" drawer that everyone swears exists but no one seems to be able to locate, at least when it comes to actually fixing the problems. At a recent work party for the consulting firm, a bosses, bosses boss told me that, in a phone conversation, one of the HR people at the hospital was surprised to learn that I was a consultant and not actually an employee of the hospital. "I guess I should have known," she said, "he's too good to be one of ours." And I suck.

What is the aversion to firing? I realize that few, if any, of the readers of this are in any kind of supervisory role, but I don't understand why we don't just lay these people off and start over. It's an interesting dynamic; Or it would be, if I were studying it and not working within it. Does it carry through to your firms? I can't be the only one. Assuage my fears that I will have to put up with this shit for the rest of my office-life experience. In the meantime, maybe you'll get an increased rate of posts.

Thursday, January 12, 2006

Yeah, I know it's too early for this; It's only the middle of January. But I won't say another word after this, until at least the end of February. But just so you know, the first round upsets will be dealt by:

Bucknell, 2-0 Conf. 11-3 Overall.
Nevada, 1-1 Conf. 11-3 Overall.
Colorado, 0-2 Conf. 10-3 Overall.

Monday, January 09, 2006

I'll preface this post by saying that, for those of you who don't know me directly, I work for a hospital. I hate hospitals. I've been in an ER once or twice, max. My mom is a nurse, and I won't even go there. So the first day I was supposed to come in to work, I was extremely worried that the Treasury department would be somewhere in the guts of the hospital. I had these visions of having to walk through the ER every day to manage their investments. Thankfully, I work in a regular old office building on the west side, far from any ER.

Today it was our day to cover the secretary's lunch and breaks. I took her fifteen minute break at three. I had been at the desk ushering new hires and vendors to their appropriate locations when I get a phone call:

Her: "Hi, I'm having a baby."
Me: "You're what?"
Her: "I'm having a baby and I need a doctor."
Me: "..."
Her: "I live on 86th in Brooklyn, and I need a clinic."
Me: "Well, that is my neighborhood. The VA hospital is right there in Dyker. You should go there. Now."
Her: "No, I need a doctor."
Me: "I work in the corporate office. I have no idea how to go about getting you a doctor. Maybe you should call 911."
Her: "OK, yeah. I'll do that. Thanks."

This city is crazy.

Friday, January 06, 2006

What is the difference between a woman and a computer?

You only have to punch instructions into a computer once.