I just received an email and words have failed me. So I will let the email speak (write?) for itself. It is from a senior administrator, no subject line ( a pet peeve ) cc’ed to anyone who might open it, instead of by relevancy. (Sigh)

 

 The text was as follows

 

 

"So and so" is going on vacation as of tomorrow she is expecting a large (heavy box) which needs to put the box in her office.  So would you please let me know when it's delivered and I'll try to get the delivery guy to take over.  Thanks.

 

I have to ask, who is taking the box to the office? Another box ( which is how this reads ), The admin herself? Or is the box taking the delivery guy across? What exactly is a "large"? Answers on a post card please!

 

 

Guys, email isn’t a toy. It might go off in your hand if you play with it. So just put the email down and read a nice book instead.

 

Note to self, stop whistling the emperors theme from star wars when I see my boss.

 

In a vacuum, light always travels at a speed of 299,792,458 meters per second

Ok. I have to share this. Have! have! have! To!

I update the company Rolodex. A boring and mundane job I know, but filled with interesting facts and fun people to call. No wait, I don’t work for a PR firm. I work for an engineering company.

The Rolodex is stuffed brim full with engineers. Civil engineers (they build bridges and buildings), environmental engineers (they tell the civil engineers why they cannot build things) and local, state and federal engineers (they tell the environmental engineers to tell the civil engineers that they cannot build things and to make up a reason, pronto).

But that’s not what I am writing about. A coworker sends me an update for the Rolodex to enter. Simple, right. Not so fast. This is my office remember. The request is emailed to her from her boss. She prints it out. Complete with email header & timestamp. Writes across the top. “Pleasz enter unto rolardux” (she should have been a doctor ) …. Puts it into an inter office envelope and routes it to me by walking it to reception ( actually on the way to my desk)

Another office administrator then picks up the said interoffice envelope. It is then carried up to my floor ( up one short flight of steps) and dumped into the interoffice mail bin. Coincidentally walking past my desk. The next week (well she routed it to me at 4 on a Friday and Monday is technically the next week), I deliver the interoffice mail back to reception (it had been placed in the wrong bin). Only then I see the mail for me and redeliver it back to my desk. From Friday 4pm to Monday @ 11:30.

Who says email isn’t slow? I think even the speed of light is affected by my office.

 

update..the boss is out of town



Please note this is a stereotype and not meant to offend Doctors.
Um…if you are not a Doctor, please feel free to laugh.

Oh my God!

I am not one for expletives, but..OH MY GOD!. (ok..I lied, I bugger and fuck all the time)

Cube denizens everywhere, I have to ask. What is it about fellow dwellers that they have to have a conversation about nothing. I mean really nothing, LOUDLY. As my company seems to be run by committee, everything is a discussion. From the development of future business plans to where shall we have lunch (and as I have said, in the case of my boss, how hungry she is)

This mornings conversations so far ( I start at 8:30 and it is only 9:10) include, cat health issues, my stinking room mate, how far along with a proposal I am, I don’t think my boy friend loves me and oh what cute shoes.

But my favorite conversation was between the facilities manager & the office manager. A ten minute discussion on how to label the circuit breaker. Choice phrases were “ I don’t feel comfortable labeling one bobs office..as what if bob moves and in ten years we will not know where we are.” As a side note, all the offices have unique numbers on a floor plan, my thought, just use those numbers.

Maybe it is me, maybe it is not. Try it for me. Go grab two of your friends and stand in someone’s doorway to their cube. This will make sure you have a captive audience. Bring coffee if you like, or some noisily wrapped food. Make sure your victim has no way of escape, no music, no phone call, nothing. The talk to your friends, and most importantly, not the victim.

Talk about your friends new born and it’s health, how you saw the birthing pictures. The case of diahorea you had while on vacation from drinking the local water (stomach flu in this case can be a laughing matter). Talk about how overworked you are ( for at least 20 minutes) and how you don’t have enough time to do your work (always good for a laugh).

Your victim will be ready to kill you within 5 minutes, and themselves within 10.

I am sure I am just as guilty as everyone else. Yet we all do it.

Office banter, just say no.

BTW, our IT department sent out an email this week saying if you get a zip file labeled “Yourdocument.zip” it is a virus, don’t open it.

Guess what?

Someone did.

OK, I was sick last week. I mean sick. All week. Really sick. Everything I ate went right through me. I don’t see why I didn’t cut out the middleman and just flushed the food straight down the porcelain throne. I ate nothing for four days.

It is amazing but Gatorade tastes bad even when you are really really hungry

But this is not really the point of my rant. Noting I was looking a little green about the gills, my caring and compassionate boss inquired about my health. I explained the situation, glossing over the details of my stomach bug, briefly describing the nausea vague feeling of malaise I was having. She clucked her tongue and proceeded to tell me the list of things that was wrong with her (OK, she is one sick puppy but I already know, she makes me call in her pharmacy orders remember), with in depth descriptions of her symptoms and what happens when she eats certain foods.

Great

Thank you.

Please don’t share anymore.

But it gets better. She then says, “I am hungry, do you think it will make you feel nauseous to order me lunch?”

News from the last post…..we are no longer taking the big green pill.

OK, it is Friday at last. The end of a long work week. That should fill me with feelings of joy right?

Ah, but there is a catch. I have to survive Friday first! I am ( or rather was) the personal assistant to our companies female chairperson. She has recently retired (and started going part time) . In the nature of people who spent their life loving their job cannot quite let go, part time means 40 hours a week. Personally I think her going part time gives her more free time to think of things for me to do. Not important things. Not work related things. Stupid things.

Like calling me up to give me the number of a restaurant that wishes me to make a reservation for lunch for her in 20 minutes while she is out shopping. Is it just me, or would it have been more sensible for her to call the restaurant.

Or leaving me a voice mail then having the company receptionist page me to tell me to check my voice mail.

Today’s voice mail message ( left at 7am) was “ I need you to reorder all of my prescriptions. I am confused as to what ones I need, but I need…..”. Her voice trailed off at this point and the phone went dead. I admit I was excited at his point. Perhaps she had died. No such luck as there was a second message (left at 7:05). “ This is a continuation of the first message, I need all my medication, except blah blah and I am not sure what other medications I need. I really need the big green pill I get once a month”

OK. Two points. First if I call up a pharmacy and say my boss needs all her pills they are going to ask me, which one right? If she does not know, how am I supposed to know? Second point. Can I ask for the big green pill. Yanno, the green one. It is big, so big you only need to take one a month?

Oh well, better living through chemistry.