Long, rambling, cranky...light on the technical jargon
Today is one of those day that makes me wish I was one of those transvestites who live off the State, if only so that I'd never have to see the crack of the Mansimile's ass every time he bends over, again.
Seriously, what the fuck? The Mansimile was such a twat today that I seriously contemplated chucking a shelf-load of Midol at him as a subtle suggestion of some sort, perhaps topped off with a snarky comment. When I got in this morning, there wasn't a note, but there were many indications to my seasoned mind that the machine had been down all day yesterday (the first clue being that the two rolls of film I took in Wednesday night before the store closed that were due the very next morning were still sitting there, untouched...I know, I'm a genius) and with a little more investigation I discovered that there was a problem with the film processor. The paper processor was fine though, so I went about the business of starting the morning tests to ensure that the paper processor stayed functional. I also decided, since I was at it, to do the film processor test just so the tech (who actually showed up before noon without me having to call to have him repaged) could see if there was any change in the numbers in the last 24 hours. I'm going about my business, la-dee-da, when the Mansimile calls down from the office because he wanted me to ring, but I told him that I couldn't, for the reasons I just mentioned, and that was the end of that...or so I thought.
In the course of these daily mandatory tests, it came to pass that the paper processor test decided that it was going to be a beyotch, requiring me to call Kodak. Fortunately the problem was caused by something that could be fixed over the phone and the tech and I got down to business. In the middle of this procedure the Mansimile comes stomping up to me and says, "Excuse me, helloooo," in a relatively pissy tone, "I don't see why you need to do tests when the machine is down and the tech is coming. You're wasting time...blablabla-I-stopped-registering-the-words-at-this-point-cakes." I calmly explain myself and he reiterates his initial statement. Lather, rinse, repeat. It took three tries to get him off my ass about it and I was pretty impressed with myself for not flipping out because almost nothing pisses me off more than being interrupted while I'm on the phone with tech support (ohemgee, the customers do it to me all the time and it makes me want to punch them). Even the Vikster commended the way I was all calm yet forceful. Mind you, this motherfucker doesn't know anything about the photo machine. I don't tell him how to set up endcaps, he doesn't need to tell me how to operate my machine. Jesus.
Anyway. Long story short, that situation was resolved and it didn't take me any longer to get everything done than it would have if the machine had been fully functional. In fact, it takes me longer to set up on Fridays because I have to do weekly maintenance. So really, as I told Momma D on the phone a little while ago, he can go fuck himself with a 2x4, but it doesn't end there...no! Besides being a complete twunt for the rest of the time I was there, he calls down to me about ten minutes before I leave and tells me to come up to the office.
Uh oh.
I am my mother's daughter after all and I immediately assume the worst because she's always freaking out about me somehow getting myself fired. At this point my anxiety is reaching a rolling boil and I had no idea what he wanted to talk to me about so I was ready to puke. 1pm finally arrived, I timed out and looked over at whomever was ringing and said all cryptically, "Hold on to your hat, I'm going upstairs!" Pretty much, at that point, if he had fired me I was going to make a scene. There was going to be crying and yelling and me dramatically throwing things on my way out. No one would forget the day they fired Kristen. Those who were not there would wish they had been there to witness the seething ball of insanity that was Kristen being fired. Instead he just wanted to ask me about a weird transaction from the other night, which, in all fairness I could have at least been written up for, but only got a stern talking to about. Ah well. I do need that pesky health insurance. I'm stuck with him for now.
Also, I really need to be nicer to my arm. It's not completely better and I keep forgetting that until I tweak it a little bit.
Seriously, what the fuck? The Mansimile was such a twat today that I seriously contemplated chucking a shelf-load of Midol at him as a subtle suggestion of some sort, perhaps topped off with a snarky comment. When I got in this morning, there wasn't a note, but there were many indications to my seasoned mind that the machine had been down all day yesterday (the first clue being that the two rolls of film I took in Wednesday night before the store closed that were due the very next morning were still sitting there, untouched...I know, I'm a genius) and with a little more investigation I discovered that there was a problem with the film processor. The paper processor was fine though, so I went about the business of starting the morning tests to ensure that the paper processor stayed functional. I also decided, since I was at it, to do the film processor test just so the tech (who actually showed up before noon without me having to call to have him repaged) could see if there was any change in the numbers in the last 24 hours. I'm going about my business, la-dee-da, when the Mansimile calls down from the office because he wanted me to ring, but I told him that I couldn't, for the reasons I just mentioned, and that was the end of that...or so I thought.
In the course of these daily mandatory tests, it came to pass that the paper processor test decided that it was going to be a beyotch, requiring me to call Kodak. Fortunately the problem was caused by something that could be fixed over the phone and the tech and I got down to business. In the middle of this procedure the Mansimile comes stomping up to me and says, "Excuse me, helloooo," in a relatively pissy tone, "I don't see why you need to do tests when the machine is down and the tech is coming. You're wasting time...blablabla-I-stopped-registering-the-words-at-this-point-cakes." I calmly explain myself and he reiterates his initial statement. Lather, rinse, repeat. It took three tries to get him off my ass about it and I was pretty impressed with myself for not flipping out because almost nothing pisses me off more than being interrupted while I'm on the phone with tech support (ohemgee, the customers do it to me all the time and it makes me want to punch them). Even the Vikster commended the way I was all calm yet forceful. Mind you, this motherfucker doesn't know anything about the photo machine. I don't tell him how to set up endcaps, he doesn't need to tell me how to operate my machine. Jesus.
Anyway. Long story short, that situation was resolved and it didn't take me any longer to get everything done than it would have if the machine had been fully functional. In fact, it takes me longer to set up on Fridays because I have to do weekly maintenance. So really, as I told Momma D on the phone a little while ago, he can go fuck himself with a 2x4, but it doesn't end there...no! Besides being a complete twunt for the rest of the time I was there, he calls down to me about ten minutes before I leave and tells me to come up to the office.
Uh oh.
I am my mother's daughter after all and I immediately assume the worst because she's always freaking out about me somehow getting myself fired. At this point my anxiety is reaching a rolling boil and I had no idea what he wanted to talk to me about so I was ready to puke. 1pm finally arrived, I timed out and looked over at whomever was ringing and said all cryptically, "Hold on to your hat, I'm going upstairs!" Pretty much, at that point, if he had fired me I was going to make a scene. There was going to be crying and yelling and me dramatically throwing things on my way out. No one would forget the day they fired Kristen. Those who were not there would wish they had been there to witness the seething ball of insanity that was Kristen being fired. Instead he just wanted to ask me about a weird transaction from the other night, which, in all fairness I could have at least been written up for, but only got a stern talking to about. Ah well. I do need that pesky health insurance. I'm stuck with him for now.
Also, I really need to be nicer to my arm. It's not completely better and I keep forgetting that until I tweak it a little bit.