Chapter 115- Owen returns (with Poop Calls)

It turns out I'm somewhat self-obsessed. I've spent the last yeay-and-a-half blogging about my job. To the best of my knowledge, not a single person has ever cared less about anything than they would about my job, yet I kept on writing about it because I really wnated to bitch.

I quit that job a month ago. I haven't blogged since.

Obviously, I don't have enough to bitch about now.

So today I've decided to blog again. I've been working in my son's day care for almost a month, now. It rocks. I look forward to going to work every day. I realize that none of you care, but it's important fr me to say it anyway, just so you understand that I'm not kidding when I say I don't have enought to bitch about.

I do, however, have good stories to tell from time to time.

The kids in my room range in age from 4 to 14 months. They have all sorts of hilarious little habits. For example, many of them have very obviously "tells" that let you know when they're pooping. Here are the best four.

4. Sam, age 11 months, (Yeah, my Sam...) will drop anything he's doing amd lie face down on the floor, spread-eagled. He then starts taking very deep breaths. Let him do that for about 1 minute and you know it's time to change his diaper.

3. Charlie, 10 months, can only poop while sitting up. If we notice that he hasn't had a BM yet on a given day, alkl we have to do it sit him up. He'll immediately turn very red in the face and start grunting. Then the room starts to smell.

2. Emily, 13 months, will go to the back corner of the room and hunker down. She doesn't like people to look at her, but it's hard to miss the grunting.

1. The funniest thing I hear every day is what Savanah's (7 months) mom refers to as her "poop call". You can tell she's trying to go because she starts this high-pitched keening whine. It even more obvious when she's finally successful because as she's finally squeezing it out she lets go like a very high-pitched air raid siren. "Woop woop woop!" Honest to God... It's so funny you could die.

I love my job.

Laterz.

Oooookaaaaayyyyy...

And so it ends - not with a bang, but with a resounding "WTF???"

I gave my notice today. In all honesty, considering that A) my company doesn't generally accept 2-week notice and B) I'm truly kind of fucking them, I expected to be escorted from the building and deposited on a curb. Instead I get this email sent to all my co-workers.-

Owen is moving on to the education field where he will be warping young children’s minds!

In all seriousness, this is a great opportunity for him and we wish him much success. Meanwhile, he will be finishing off the semester, teaching for us in both Petoskey and TC for some computer classes at night, with possible classes down the road. His last day is next Friday, so if you have any on-going business with TLC, please contact him before then.

I don't get it. I've been treated, to be blunt, like shit for the past few months, but now that I'm leaving it's "Congratulations! Would you like to continue doing the part of your job you actually enjoy and be paid three times as much as you've been making?"

Honest to God... I need a drink.

I'm outta here! Well, almost...

Let me start by saying thanks to everyone who dropped me a line to commiserate about my work situation. I truly appreciate the support. Even I didn't realize how stressed my has been making me until I reached the end of my week of vacation and realized that I'd forgotten to take my anti-depressants for a week and I still felt the best I've felt, mentally, in a very long time.
We had a tough weekend, as S.A. had to go to the emergency room on Saturday with severe abdominal pain and didn't emerge from the hospital until Tuesday, having had multiple gall stones removed and still needing another operation.

The good news is that I was officially offered a new job on Friday. Needless to say, I accepted. I'll be getting up earlier, paid ALOT less, and I'll no longer have the kind of job title that makes you want to hand out business cards. I couldn't be happier.

I'll be giving my notice tomorrow. It'll be one-week notice. I currently work for an agency that's notorious for accepting people's two-week notice and then cheerful escorting them out of the building. They're very concerned about corporate espionage. Someone should probably point out to them that employees would be less likely to sabotage them if they didn't treat people like shit. I'm giving one-week notice in an effort not to be a complete dick, but I couldn't afford to risk going two weeks with no paycheck.

On an unrelated note, my mouth f***ing HURTS. I had a dentist appointment this morning to put in a crown. I'd like to point out that my mouth felt FINE when I went into the dentist office. Only now that my "problem"is "fixed" and I in significant pain. Not only were they unable to get me completely numb, but now that what numbness I was blessed with has worn off, the entire right side of my face hurts. If any of you intrepid readers feels like driving to Northern Michigan to share any good painkillers, I won't argue.

Oh yeah, one more note- Dooce posted an entry yesterday that is one of the best descriptions I've ever read of why being a parent is so great. Don't miss it.

Anyhoo... It's up to 18 degrees today. A friggin' heat wave, so everybody enjoy the balmy weather. I'll check back in later.

Capitalism Sucks.

Sorry I haven't been around for the past couple weeks. I know it's been way too long since I've written anything, if only because S.A.'s cousin Amy has blogged twice since I last wrote anything and she only blog's about once every 3 months or so...

It's been kind of stressful couple weeks. My job is kicking my ass. Everything we do is driven by the almight dollar. In itself, that's frustrating for me. I'd probably be a socialist, given complete choice in the matter. But what's worse is that even when our sole criterion for decision-making is "How much money will this make/cost us?", we can't even make rational decisions within that limited framework. Never in my life have a worked at an agency that was so penny-wise, pound-foolish.

What makes it worse is that they've spent thee past two weeks driving it home to me that my only value to the company is how much money I bring in to the company. My job title is EDUCATION COORDINATOR! I'm supoosed to be the educational arm of the company. Exempt from the nickel-and-dime crap. WTF???

Yesterday, I got email from my boss explaining to me that my priorities were screwed up because I stayed up at night with my 10-month-old son, who has an ear infection, and is not sleeping well right now. Evidently, my attempts to pull my weight on the family front (This is especially important right now, considering the fact that S.A. is student-teaching and really needs her sleep) inconvenience my boss, (who is, by the way, female) because she feels it's hurting my productivity. To quote- "believe it or not, although maybe not said, you’re not kidding anyone here, or in your personal life that you’re pulling it off."

As you might guess, I'm a bit pissed. Luckily, I'll find out in the next couple days if I'm being offered a new job. All indications look good. If that happens, I'll definitely take it, even though it pays less with worse benefits. And I'll definitely be leaving with no notice.

As far as I know, no-one from my company knows I have this blog. I suppose if I'm wrong, I'm probably getting canned for this entry. Well, at least I can hit 'em for unemployment.

F*** 'em.

F***ing f***ers.

p.s. It should probably be said that I truly like the vast majority of people with whom I work and so I certainly would never do anything to make their lives more difficult. My problems are all specifically with one person. F***er.

Jeeezus.....

Sometimes it's like I work in a alternate universe. I almost wish I was a cartoonist, because I'm pretty sure my office would make a good comic.

I just walked up to the front desk to tell the receptionist something. I witnessed a number of things that seemed a little out of the ordinary.

• The receptionist (Hereafter referred to as "1".) was standing in front of the bathroom door, holding it shut, so as to make it difficult for her (and my) boss to get out.
• My admin person (Hereafter referred to as "2".)was standing next to her giving her instructions about how to effectively grasp the doorknob.
• 1 noted "It stinks! Who farted???" 2 replied "Must be Gib!" (Gib is the owner, Dr. M. Neither of them would call him Gib to his face if their lives depended on it. Evidently they get more familiar when they see his taillight leving the parking lot.) Both of them proceeded to literally roll on the floor laughing.
• 1 jumped up and grabbed a matchbook, ostensibly to relieve the odor she'd complained about. 2 informed her that she's allergic to sulphur and would be in dire straits if a math was lit anywhere near her. I've never heard of anyone being allergic to sulphur. I am, however, smart enough to keep my mouth shut.

Side Note: 2 is also, by her estimation, allergic to all plants but, strangely enough, no animals, subject to debilitating headaches and backaches, and was, at an earlier point in her life, a member of the U.S. Army Special Forces specializing in Covert Ops. Very covert, obviously, because I don't recall there being many female Special Forces in the 80's. In fact, according to the Army, women are still prohibited from being in Special Forces. All that said, I have no doubt that 2 honestly believes she was in Special Ops. 2 is a very good admin person. She is, however, nutty as a fruitcake.

• 1 proceeded to light a match, cackling maniacally.
• 2 started running in circles in the lobby, hacking and coughing like a tubercular chain-smoker in a burning house.
• 2 ran down the hall to her office as 1 sat in her chair, screaming with laughter.

At this point I left to come back to my office. I really wish this kind of scene was a little more uncommon around here.

Laterz

Life with Lloyd

When I came in to work this morning, my admin person pointed out to me that we seem to have a new pet. Evidently she spent 20 minutes this morning talking to a new friend who, judging from the pile of paper shreds and peanuts sheds found there, lives behind one of my bookshelves. For no apparent reason, we've taken to calling him(her?it?) Lloyd.
When word got out to the rest of my office (All women, in case you wondered.) they immediately started calling for blood. Luckily, I was able to find a site that sells live-traps for mice. Dot's already ordered 2 of them, and she's started putting pieces of oatmeal cookie back by his nest, which he seems to be eating very quickly, so he's ready to hop into the trap when it gets here.
Now we're discussing whether we should get an office pet. I'm voting for a rat.
This may be the most encouraging sign about my workplace I've had in a very long time.

Oh! My Bleeding Heart...

Well. It's Office Christmas Party Season. Well, maybe it WAS Christmas Party Season. I know we're done with ours, thank God...

SA's party was last weekend. She works for a non-profit, so their Christmas party consists of a potluck supper at one of the employees houses. She gets a small gift/bonus every year - a gift certificate to use at any of a few local shops.

Saturday was my Christmas Party. I work for a decent-sized, very much for-profit business with a number of different small companies in 3 different town making up the whole that is our corporation. Our Christmas Party was Black-Tie-Optional. (Talk about misnomers... It's optional as long as you don't mind looking like a degenerate who has no idea of how to dress in polite company. My wife might disagree with me, but I counted three guys who weren't in at least a jacket and tie.) Anyway, as you'd guess, it was held at a major local country club and featured 3 different dinner selections, party favors that cost more than SA's bonus for each attendee, an open bar (Again, thank God.), a live band, and a concert from a local choral group. To top it off, we all received our Christmas bonuses. I receive a moderately small bonus, because I haven't' been with the company for very long. I found out that some administrators get many times what I got. My bonus was still TEN TIMES what SA got.

And amid all this ridiculously overblown merriment, complete with a multitude of melodramatic speeches about corporate synergy and how we are all one big family, all I could think was, How many poor f-ing families could we have subsidized Christmas for if we'd opted to have a f-ing pot luck????

Sometimes I HATE corporate America.

LIfe notes

My son (the Little Red Crustacean, if you read S.A's blog,) is a very unique little guy. Even though WebMD says it's highly unlikely, he has managed to contract strep throat. Since you're not suppose to get Strep until you're at least 3, I'm choosing to take this as further evidence that he's very advanced, rather than yet another indication that he's awfully sickness-prone.

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Sometimes I HATE my job. I just spent 15 minutes figuring out, via the phone, that one of my co-workers printer wouldn't work because it wasn't plugged in correctly. Even though we theoretically checked it 3 times. How do these people remember to breathe.

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Though most of us are not financial geniuses, if someone were to mention a "credit-debit" to you, would you not think they were a moron? Or at least have no f-ing clue what they were talking about? What about a "Britannical Garden"? I assume that must be where they grow the encyclopedia...

Blogger Beta

Blogger Beta finally let me move my blog over this morning. This allows me to apply "tags" to my entries that tell y'all what specific stuff is about. (For instance, it's fun for me to look back through all the stuff I write about S.A.) All I have to do is to go back to every entry I've ever posted and decided how I was to tag it.

As you might guess, I'm not getting ANY work done this morning.

Job security

I just got word that, after months of bitching, the powers-that-be have just ordered me $8000 worth of computers and digital projectors.

Considering the fact that no-one else in the office has a clue how to hook one of the new machines up, much less teach someone else how to use one, I guess this means I won't be getting fired this week.

And the President can't figure out why the economy is a piece of shit...

I (I, in this case, meaning my office.) got hired to do a small job recently. A small company, which is currently trying to rapidly expand, hired me to create a 20-odd page powerpoint presentation that they can use when presenting their products to potential customers.

It's not a bad job; it's just somewhat time consuming.

I have to say, though, that it's a little odd to be paid about $1000 for a job that could proabably be performed by the average 6th grader.

No wonder 90% of small buinesses fail within 2 years.

And speaking of editors...

I received a call today at work from a gentleman who was having some difficulty getting MS Word to work the way he wanted it to. He was trying to put a header at the top of his first page that was different from the header at the top of all his other pages.

This is a little bit unusual, but not a particularly complicated problem. I could have walked him through a couple different ways to fix it but I figired it'd be faster if he just emailed it to me and let me fix it for him.

When I sent the file back to him, I laughed and offered him my name, which I had neglected to do in our initial conversation since we really had gotten right down to work. He, of course, reciprocated with his name.

I turns out that the gentleman I just showed a very simple word trick to - the kind of trick most 5th graders could do today - was turning in this paper as his final project for his MASTER'S DEGREE in education.

Worse yet- He recently retired from his previous job. He had been the editor of the local paper for the past 25 years.

I'm sick.

In this case, I mean that completely literally.

I've been fighting off a cold for a few days and I seem to be losing the battle. I slept in the guest room last night in no small part because S.A. can't take any meds and I didn't want to make her sick. Unfortunately, the guest bed is not nearly as comfy as our bed so I didn't sleep particularly well.

I'm supposed to be conducting trainings via telephone all day today, so I thihnk I might go back home and do them from there. It's still work, but it doesn't suck nearly as badly when I get to do it while wrapped in an afghan sitting on my couch.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it,) my office does not have call forwarding, so I can't forward all my calls home. It'd be convenient, but I guess it'd probably piss me off to be getting calls all evening tonight before I come back into work tomorrow to turn off the forwarding. I guess I'll have to make due with checking my voicemail.

Luckily, I don't think I have anything in TiVo, so I shouldn't be tempted to watch TV instead of actually working.

Laterz

D'oh!

I have to hire a secretary. I really need one because I am not, well... Let's say I'm kind of a big-picture guy. I'm not so great with the details. In other words, I keep needing to use overnight shipping to get textbooks, because I forget to order them in a timely manner and all the plants in my office are dying.

I've been interviewing candidates for the past few days and I've got some decent candidates, but I just haven't found the right one. Today I decided that I going to request a little bit of extra testing from all my finalists. I wanted to have them basically write me a small press release and make me a small flier, just to let me get a little better idea of their work.

When I took my bright ideas to the owner of my company (my immediate supervisor is out of the office today and I know that the owner really likes me) to get approval for my ideas before I implemented them, he immediately signed off on them. He then asked me, "Having a tough time finding a decent candidate, huh?"

I defense of all the folks I've interviewed I responded that all of the candidates would truly be okay, I just really wanted to find the right person.

He gave me a quizzical look which conveyed to me that perhaps I was taking this interview process a bit too seriously and replied, "Let's not spend TOO much time worrying about this, okay. It's just a secretary."

Evidently, though my seriousness during this whole process has impressed the whole female staff at my agency, I have succeeded in losing all my built up "Guy Points" I'd earned by being the only other male in the building besides the owner.

Crap. I guess I should have used the "Who Looks Best in a Mini-Skirt While Being Chased Around a Desk" hiring criterion.

Laterz

More "Proof Readers Wanted" ads

I got an email this morning from the boss of the person who sent me the "Hostility Training" email. She had received a copy of my responding email.

Dear Mr. Harrington,
I wanted to take a moment to thank you for the email you sent yesterday regarding our Hospitality and Tourism Seminar. We have currently sent out over 200 copies of the email that you received and plan to send out at least 400 more. Your response was the only one we received pointing out that we were actually offering "Hostility Training".
We truly appreciated you input and we also appreciated the fact that you used humor to get your point across.
Thank you again. We look forward to continuing to do business with you in the future.

A**** T*******

Cripe. I believe this means that most people in the country are really dumb. (Otherwise, SOMEBODY would have mentioned this besides me.) Also, it certainly establishes that the meanings we take from things are inferred; they are not necessarily implied. I certainly thought my email was funny. I'm a little surprised that they did.

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1 small note for all those people in the world who look for things to make them feel good about humanity.

In 1929, 25 years after J.M. Barrie published Peter Pan, he gave the copyright of his children'’s classic to Great Ormond Street Hospital for Children. This means that every time it's made into a movie or used as the basis for another book (Hook by Terry Brooks, Capt. Hook : The Adventures of a Notorious Youth by J. V. Hart and Brett Helquist, and Peter and the Starcatchers by Dave Barry and Ridley Pearson, among many others), the Children's Hospital receives the author's royalties.

I just thought that this was really cool and worth mentioning. Also, I can personally vouch for the 3 aforementioned books, so perhaps you should all go buy them and both get to read a few good books, but also get to feel that you're giving to a worthy cause.

Just a thought.

Laterz

Reasons why proof-readers are important

The following is an email I received from a major corporate training agency today. I do a good amount of business with this company, becuase they have developed a very good training curriculum. That being said, today was definitely not one of their shining moments.

Hello There,

I am sorry I missed you. I wanted to tell you about our hostility and tourism program. The program is being launch on January 15. Also we have our train to trainer seminar on February 27, 2006. This seminar will be located in sunny Florida.

I did let you know that at least once a month I would contact you, so that the communication lines will always be open. If you have any questions feel free to contact me at my office. I have been assigned to your region to help you with any and everything, from marketing to ordering exams. So please exhaust your resources.

Thank you and I look forward to speaking with you.

Your Partner,

J****** M******

I responded with the following email.

Johnnel-
Thank you for your email. I appreciate your contacting me and keeping me informed. Email is often the best way to accomplish this as I am generally away from my phone.
One note- While I can see that Hospitality and Tourism training could be very useful, I suspect that "Hostility" and Tourism training will find a much smaller market. I know that I, for one, am already very good at directing hostility towards tourists. Check the email you sent me. I hope it wasn't a form letter you sent out to many people.

Thank you again for keeping me informed.

Owen Harrington

Notice that I was nice enough not to mention that the program was "being launch" on January 15. Nor did I mention that a "train to trainer" seminar sounds potentially painful. (A TRAINER to trainer seminar might be better.) And I even kept it to myself that, in the phrase "any and everything", the any should be hyphenated.

This is why I'm having a difficult time hiring a secretary. If I hire someone who writes like this, I'm just gonna have to fire them.

Laterz.

Computers can do anything... including berate morons.

My company provides technical support to a local non-profit agency. Specifically, my predecessor designed a pair of MAMMOTH databases in Microsoft Access for them to track all of their operations. The databases are absolutely gigundo, so they require a certain amount of periodic maintenance.

The administrator in change of overseeing the database is basically computer illiterate. This would not be nearly as frustrating if it was not obvious that this was practiced illiteracy, cultivated for the sole purpose of providing an excuse for making ridiculous requests of the people who work on the database, namely me.

My predecessor used to get extremely frustrated because whenever she told the administrator that it was not possible to she what she wanted with their current computer setup, the administrator unfailingly responded with, "Yvonne, computers can do ANYTHING. You just have to tell them."

Yvonne, not being a confrontational person, would just bite her tongue and live with it. Or so I thought before today.

I was called to that office this morning because the administrator had managed to blow up the database. This wasn't a hug crisis, as far as I was concerned, because the database is backed up every day, so even in a worst case scenario, we could always pull the previous version off the backup tape and we'd be fine. However, it appeared to me once I looked at her machine that the problem she was encountering may be due to some sort of corruption of the macros, the small sub-programs that Yvonne had written into the original database. I decided to take a look at them and see if there was anything obvious that I could fix. What I found nearly sent me into convultions from laughing.

My former boss, always polite and well-mannered, had written custom error messages into the macros that would only show up when the administrator did something particularly hair-brained. Messages like "Wrong Button, Dummy" and "That's not the right way to do it. Duh!" were sprinkled throughout the macros. Great stuff.

I have a whole new level of respect for Yvonne, now.

Laterz.