A Work Post

All last week was staff training where I work. Basically, everyone in the Tech department were assigned 5 or so employees to train on the new database/security system we will be implementing within the first quarter of this year. So for a whole week, my department was scattered to all the other departments, and then the staff training portion took place up in the computer lab because we had the space. And computers. And a Rancor. But mostly computers and the space-thing.

Steve, my boss, thought five days would probably be sufficient enough time to train the employees. I got mine done in two. That's right, two. My boss got his done in four. Loser.

His training did consist of one or two days of setting up the computers so they'd run for his trainees. I just stepped in, trained my people, and left, leaving him and Gina to answer questions, while they phoned around, looking for me. I wasn't gonna sit around answering questions.

The first day of not doing work, I did work - I worked on a presentation for my group (in November, we had an all-staff day full of festivities...and work, and some exercise where we played with Legos and Play-Doh. We were put in "groups" and were given a problem that needed a solution)

This "problem/solution-thing" consisted of feedback from a survey we had given out to the public last summer. And the public bitched and complained, as usual, about the most ignorant shit you could possibly imagine. Your library should be open 24 hrs. Mainly the computer lab-area, not necessarily the library itself. Thanks for the feedback; okay everyone, the library will now be open 24 hours, 7 days a week, running up our utility bill, not to mention all the money we'd have to pay employees to be here that long, hiring more staff, cleaning up after selfish people who fuck up anything that's not their property. Not gonna happen. And yes, if the lab were open 24 hours as well, we'd have people here ALL NIGHT. And then it would be, well, since the library is open 24 hours, and the computer lab is opened 24 hours, then patrons of the computer lab shouldn't have a time period on the computer like they do now. Basically, I don't have a home, so I'll live in a library like FUCKING From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler only, in a fucking library because I'm homeless; I want hand-outs! I'll live on crackers and soda pop!

My "group's" problem was to come up with ways to make our library quiet because someone had wrote on their survey that libraries used to be quiet, and ours wasn't, and it needs to be quiet again; people who live in this town don't understand the word "advancement." The presentation I was working on that day included everything my group had discussed and debated in our meetings, plus my own ideas and data I had collected from other libraries; it was legit work, and it didn't take me very long to complete, either. That was the first day of not doing work, and the explanation of the work I was doing.

The second day was the 20th; Inauguration Day for President Obama. I talked to my supervisor for about thirty minutes and kidded around a bit, checked some email and some internets, then went to the business office, sifted through a desk drawer until I found a familiar-looking silver key, then walked across the library, unlocked one of the conference rooms, and played my Nintendo DS for twenty minutes. Then I remembered there was a television in the basement, that was never used, except for meetings. This is one of three down there, so if there happened to be people wanting a set for the Inauguration, there was one everyone was enjoying in the staff room, and one that had been moved to the auditorium (that one is a BEAST) with chairs outlined adjacent to it for the public to come in and watch the Inauguration. Not many people were in that room. With that in mind, I knew the last set was unoccupied, and so I commandeered a dolly, and went down in the elevator to retrieve it. Did so without any one asking me questions. By the way, my conference room was wired, most are, so I had limited cable. I trucked that set up to my conference room, shut the door, turned out the lights after plugging shit in, and tuned in C-SPAN for Inauguration coverage. After that was all said and done, and the Inauguration was winding down, it was 12:30ish, so said my clock in the conference room, so I unplugged everything, moved the television on a dolly to the auditorium; I DID NOT put it back where I found it because then it looked like someone had moved it in to the auditorium (because we have stupid people on staff who would do this) figuring that no one had taken the time to set up a television in the auditorium, which they had with THE BEAST, so that imaginary person, who our maintenance supervisor Kevin would assume worked in Reference, just decided to leave the television in the auditorium because they had done all the work to get it upstairs where it wasn't needed, and were too lazy to take it back downstairs. I know -- this clever, improvised scheme I had concocted sounds like it took a lot of thought, it didn't. I just know people. Kevin is against Reference, and the Reference department doesn't give a shit about anyone, so I played the two forces off each other. Office politics can work in your favor.

By 12:30ish, this meant I only had a half-hour left in my shift. And since I was still on the clock, technically working, I was entitled to a break. So I took mine. I went down to the staff room and one of my co-workers asked if I had gotten the message to talk to Gina. How could I have gotten that message, I was hiding out. I took a twenty minute break, eating leftover Chile from a Chile-cook off the staff had the previous week, and then I talked to Gina who wanted to know where I was at. I told her Children's had a security threat on their computer that I handled, then I went down to the Tech office for CD's, which, by the way, was a problem we had in the lab last week; one of the part-timers left a note saying we had run out of CD's in the lab, and I told Gina I thought we might have had some down there. After finding out we hadn't, I went up to the Business Office, where they informed me CD's had been ordered, then I helped Steve make cable (Steve wasn't actually there, I had told Gina, but I knew he needed to make some for the wiring-changes because of the new security system, so I volunteered)

That excuse covered my ass for about two hours, and it was bullshit! Steve needed wiring, but fuck, I wasn't gonna strip it. And I was out the door in 30 anyway, it didn't matter what I told her. Then I told her the rest of the time was spent on working on my presentation for my group, and then taking a break, and watching the Inauguration. She didn't take too kindly to me working on this "presentation" - apparently, they (she) had stuff I was supposed to be doing for them (her). I didn't like how she was ordering me around like her subordinate, so I went over her authority and talked to Steve. He told me to work on the presentation because I mentioned my "group" was holding a meeting that week Thursday afternoon, which they were.

And Steve also told me not to listen to Gina.

I walked out at 12:54, clocked out at 12:55 right as the time clock switched to the next hour, and went to my grandma's to take a nap, and watch some college basketball.

Editor's note*** Wednesday-Thursday I trained my people; yeah, you thought I had done that before the shit with the TV in the conference room...haha. That Friday, I was called in to work, which corresponds with my last post about talking with my boss about voicemail.

Something Discussed, Followed by Something Else with Sprinkles of Random Somethings in the Middle...like Nuget

My supervisor was hacked off at me the other day because he tried to call me, to ask if I could work for another employee, and I didn't answer my phone. At the time, I was sleeping because that's what I do when I don't have to be at work in the morning...is sleep. It's a whole new concept; I wouldn't expect anyone else to know about sleeping in on days when you don't have to work...

His name is Steve. He has a mind much like my own, only, he actually enjoyed math back in high school, excelled at it, and now has a job where people who aren't as smart as he is bug him with questions all damn day. His hobbies include, but are not limited to, listening to an instruction one time, and fully understanding it, answering other people's stupid questions, drinking coffee out of a ceramic mug that says, "Monday Mug" on it -- when it's Thursday; re-wiring the building on a wobbly ladder that will one day split in half and most likely kill him or impale a sharpened bit of shrapnel through his abdomen, not killing him, but damaging his pancreas, which will later kill him. If he subscribed to social networks, that would be his description for his hobbies, not including others I have opted to not mention.

Steve wanted to know why I didn't have voicemail on my phone. He could've easily left a message and I could've gotten that later in the day. I told him I wasn't a big fan of voicemail because I hate getting the alert on my phone, punching in a code to get the message and then having that message be a "hang-up" where the person stayed on the line (God knows why!) I guess to listen to the lady feed him instructions on how to use voicemail, and then that person hung up when that ladies' voice wasn't followed by my own. I mean, what else do you expect -- you think I'm gonna magically answer, and be like, "Hello. I felt my phone vibrate; knew it was probably you!!" New rule: if you get to the voicemail options and the person hasn't answered, hang up, don't leave a hang-up voicemail. Or the, sigh, mumble a curse word, then hang-up-voicemail. Steve then said, "it's a lot easier to reach you if you have voicemail." Where I parried, "What's the point!? The odds are still against you that I would even reply to your voicemail message." Seriously, if I had voicemail on my phone, I still wouldn't answer it. No matter how annoying the alerts got, I wouldn't check my voicemail because I know that only my friends leave a voicemail, then follow it up with a text message; only work would leave a voicemail and leave it at that. Which I told my supervisor, so he'd say, "you purposefully ignore calls from work?" "Yes."

Steve would do that same thing if he had a more competent work staff, or a clone. Steve 2 would be assigned to the dirty work, and Steve 1 would smoke cigars and drink all day. And if he cloned Steve 2, Steve 3 With Avengence would clean shit up, and be responsible for Steve 1's girlfriend, except for encounters with her, of the intimate nature. Steve 3 houses the feminine-side of Steve 1, so he'd cook and clean to his heart's content and be able to express himself emotionally with Steve 1's girlfriend. Basically, the plot for the movie Multiplicity with Michael Keaton.

And with voicemail, and this is the funnest thing with all answering-machines, you get to come up with a message all your own. What sucks ass are the people who act like they answered the phone, so their message might be, "Hello?" and you say, "Hey, it's *so-and-so* what's up," and they're like, "Huh?" so you repeat, "It's *so-and-so*, how's it going..." and about this time, they say, "You reached my answering machine, I'm not actually here..." Son of a bitch! Why'd you trick me!? Those people never get called by me again. If that's your idea of creativity than here's my idea for excluding your creative upheaval -- I don't call your ass anymore!

I can't think of one thing I'd put as my answering-machine message. Just some dull salutation and a number in which you can call me back at. That's a true test of creative integrity, and those people who fake you out, have failed the test. And the punishment for such failure is the removal of that person's tongue. Since I don't "subscribe" to any type of voice-messaging service, I get to keep my tongue...and my dignity.

Babies and the Other Side of the Spectrum

I hate the elderly and babies. My grandma is elderly...don't worry, I don't hate her. But old people are fucking helpless sometimes. Especially the elderly in front of computers. You pretty much have to lead them by the hand when they are on a computer. And they always use the same excuse. "I'm so used to a typewriter. That's how we typed anything, is with a typewriter." I used a typewriter before I used a computer. Before my parents got our Gateway with Windows ME loaded on it which was bullshit; I hated that fucking operating system! Before the parentals bought their Gateway machine, we had a Hewlett Packard because that's what it was known as before HP - we had a Hewlett Packard piece of shit with Windows 3.1. It would freeze up loading Minesweeper. And before that, we had an electric typewriter that was my mom's when she was in college in 1978.

I remember writing short stories and then typing them on that old typewriter. The type bars would always get stuck on the platen, and the ink ribbon, if this ever occurred, would smear and make a god-awful mess on the paper...it was ALL bullshit! That machine was frustrating, not a computer. To be honest with you, because I've worked with both, I prefer the computer over the typewriter, hands down! It's more convenient, and if you think about it, because I write all the time, and rarely print off, I've saved money with a computer compared to a typewriter. Try finding an ink ribbon for a typewriter NOW! Jesus Christ! Paper is so much cheaper than a new ink ribbon, or repairs to a sticking type bar(s). I just can't comprehend how it's so difficult for the elderly to get behind computers.

I guess there is too much of a generation gap, which again, is bullshit. The term generation gap was made up by the elderly as an excuse to be lazy and not learn technology. You've gotta keep up with the times, no matter how stubborn you are or how thick-headed your disposition is.

Here are your two tools when controlling a computer; your mouse and a keyboard -- which should be familiar to all those in allegiance to the typewriter. It's the same damn standard keyboard as before. I don't get it. How simple does it have to be for an elderly person to just get it? Windows Vista has a program for people who hate using their fingers or hands to manipulate the computer -- or for elderly people whose brains are covered in cobwebs -- where you speak a command and the computer complies. That is ridiculous! And you're cheating if you subscribe to it. What!? -- you have a hand wrapped around your cock when you're on a computer, and the other is holding a Kleenex -- you don't want to have to dismount to switch to another porn file, you'd rather speak to your computer and say, "Open Gushing Twats Gangbang!" And bam! A nice, quivering vagina leaking clemen in to a pool, and a loud, orgasmic scream of pleasure...fantastic!

I already know that if I live to be an elderly-person, I'm gonna be tech-savvy.

Babies. I don't get it. You might as well get a cat, preferably one that's sick and vomits too much, and howls for no reason, oh, and wears a diaper which is always filled with a huge load. Don't get me wrong, babies can be fun. You teach them everything you were taught -- there's a whole tradition-thing goin' on with babies and toddlers and adolescence and tweenies and teenagers -- with toddlers, when they first begin to talk, you can teach them bad things to say; I don't condone you do this because once they learn something, they say it, even when you don't want them to say it, and it spoils their minds, and usually these kids are assholes and you find yourself wanting to stab them. Babies are funny. They make noises like R2-D2, they like games -- it's like a little person high; they're always doing something silly and outrageous. I LOVE those babies. I hate babies who are tired, but their parents don't seem to get that they are tired, and drag them around all afternoon without a nap. I hate babies who cry for no reason. Oh, my juice spilled -- oh, I hit myself with a toy I shouldn't have been flinging around -- oh, my bath-water is scolding hot and I now have a third-degree burn -- waa, I'm being abducted! Those babies suck! I like babies who like to rub it in my face that they can get away with sucking on boob all day -- it pisses me off, but I'm relieved that the baby wasn't born gay. I don't think I've ever seen a gay baby. Damn gay-community and their myths...

So, with babies, the good outweighs the bad. With the elderly -- they are just a nuisance, all of them, except my Nana. She's too sweet to be rotten. And now I'm done rambling. Look forward to another post by me here in a month or so about nothing.