The Belly of the Beast (or Why there is no cure for dumb)

I've had an ass-kickin', lip smackin' good day.  Warning the following post may contain words not suitable for children under the age of 13. 

I was in a meeting this morning with some colleagues when my boss blows in with steam coming out of her ears.  Her voice was slightly below a yell and she was obviously pissed.  She said, "I was just on the new unit and I can't get the main desk computer to work."  I just kind of looked at her dumbfounded--of course the computer doesn't work, it's not fully installed.

She was still mad and asked why I hadn't already tested the devices (our term for the the multitude of PCs, laptops, tablets, printers, PDAs, and other handheld devices) last week.  Simple answer.  Because until last night/early this morning they hadn't been installed.  She couldn't understand how the installing department hadn't been able to put them in when it should have been done last Wednesday.  Another simple answer: because the contractors were still working yesterday.  Honestly, how do you install computers when you don't even have countertops to put them on or jacks or power outlets?  The construction guys were literally painting around me today as I worked.  I'm half stupid from inhaling all the fumes and killing my brain cells. 

I explained all this to her, but she was not appeased.  She didn't like being kept out of the loop--I tried to gently remind her that I asked her on Monday if the unit was going to be ready considering it didn't even have a functioning toilet.  After she left, I proceeded to print out all the e-mails over the past week concerning the delays.  Every email I started began with "are the printers set up yet?"

Despite her attempt smooth her over-reaction (apologies aren't really necessary in the work force, don't you agree?), I was already on way to being a crankysaurus.  Granted, I tend to be funny when I'm cranky, but only because I'm mean.  Just last week our secretary turned to me and said, "You're short, but you're mean".  I guess you aren't supposed to be both. 

Fortunately I genuinely like the people I work with.  Honestly, most of us are good natured and are cognizant of the fact that we are going to get tossed into the rubbage heap and we have to work as a team to get the hell out.  Kind of like that scene from Star Wars when Luke, Han Solo (ahh, Harrison Ford) and Princess Leia are stuck in trash compactor with the weird snake lurking under the garbage water.  They yelled at each other the whole time, but they managed to get out together.  I think.  It's been years since I've seen it.

Anyway, by 5 PM I'm getting pretty hungry and that 15 minute snarf session 6 hours prior is a distant memory.  By 6 PM I'm down right snarly and each time I have to test print a Word document it says something like let me out of here, do you hate me or something, how come I am still here when everyone else got to leave?  Evidently when you educate yourself on multiple applications you became that girl, Ms. Popular.  At this point I know I can say pretty much anything to anyone and they can't say a word about it because I don't have a replacement. 

At 7:15 PM I finally announce that I am leaving.  I walk back to my building and wouldn't you know it, it is locked up tight.  I'd like to say I didn't use any "language", but then I'd be lying.  I walked back over and decided that after all the assistance I have given the Help Desk they had better loan me their spare key.  The last time I got locked out I had to call security and it wasn't pretty.  After waiting 20 impossibly long minutes the security guard walks over, unlocks my door, opens it for me, proceeds to follow me and locks the door behind us.  I kid you not.  I thought I was about to be raped.  He then asked (gag) "is there anything else I can help open?"  Yeah, you can open an incident report and save me the trouble of reporting you.  Gross.  So not really a fan of calling security and getting stuck with Officer Sicko. 

It's just been one of those days after a series of one of those days.  So what do I do when I am stressed and should either be walking it off or sleeping it off?  I started cooking and baking.  At 9:30 at night.  I must be crazy, but at least I should have a lot of extra food to stock my freezer with. At the rate I'm going I shouldn't have to work very long on Friday--actually, I may be home by 9 am because I have run out of hours!