A rant more than a funny story... well, it's at least ceased to be amusing to me.
One of my many charming responsibilities here is keeping certain quarterly reports. Most of the data that needs to be entered by me comes from standardized forms -- the information for which is filled in by none other than Special K.
Said forms are entirely fill-in-the blank and multiple choice. They were created with the intent to be 100% dummy-proof. I mean, I know what I'm dealing with here. Not only are the forms "dummy-proof," but I've asked Special K to alter them in way she wishes to make them easiest on her. These forms have remained completely unchanged in all the years that Special K has worked here.
And yet, it should come as no surprise to you, fair readers, that every three months when I go through Special K's stack of handwritten forms, it's like each and every one is the first one she's ever seen in her life. No two are filled out in the same way. Different information is left blank on each one, Multiple choice options are either ignored, or more than one conflicting option is selected. Incorrect-- and even impossible-- values are the norm. Extraneous and non-sensical notes are added on the side. I've gotten 2 or 3 copies of the same transaction. You get the picture. It's not funny to me.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Friday, September 26, 2008
New Pleasures
All the pleasure in this note makes me uncomfortable.
Mrs. Money called today to express pleasure regarding the paper announcement. She is so pleased and wanted to thank Crazyland. She will unfortunately be leaving town tomorrow and will not be home for another week until the first weekend in October, but wanted to express her pleasure and thanks.
Mrs. Money called today to express pleasure regarding the paper announcement. She is so pleased and wanted to thank Crazyland. She will unfortunately be leaving town tomorrow and will not be home for another week until the first weekend in October, but wanted to express her pleasure and thanks.
Well Wishes From K!
This just happened, and S witnessed it! I had to leave the office to take M to the airport, and even though S and I are now the only ones here today, I thought I would tell K where I was going (in case she even knew I was here!).
Her response, when I told her I was leaving and would be back?
"Oh, Ok. Don't crash!"
Said without irony as she hurried around a corner.
Her response, when I told her I was leaving and would be back?
"Oh, Ok. Don't crash!"
Said without irony as she hurried around a corner.
K Learns Localized Microsoft Word
Special K has been called many things. Some think of her as our receptionist. I've heard mention of her as our Office Manager, which I suppose is not too far off. Our website declares her our Executive Assistant -- a nice way of saying she's The Boss Lady's slave. I like to call her my muse...
Whatever you call her, you might expect that the program Microsoft Word is the linchpin of her duties here in Crazyville. She uses it on her "machine" to create letters for The Boss Lady, to prepare "faxes" with it, to write her loquacious employee review. And yet it will probably not surprise you that Special K does not really know how to use this program. At least not on her computer.
I once walked into my office to begin another enlightening day of work to find Special K sitting at my computer working on a Word document. Her little legs dangled from my chair with her janitor-chic shoes swaying to and fro. She was propping her head up in her hand, as if maybe this skewed angle would provide the answers to her quandaries with the machine, nay, with life. For once she wasn't apologetic -- and hey, shouldn't she have been, she was on my computer? -- but simply told me that she was trying to insert our logo on to a letter that The Boss Lady has asked her to send out.
My first thought (damn logic!) was that perhaps she didn't have a copy of the logo, a problem I could easily remedy by emailing one to her right away, thus getting her off my computer. She mumbled when I suggested that, something about not needing one and how she would be finished in a minute, moving the mouse furtively, legs kicking in time. After a few minutes, during which I procured coffee, I asked Special K if she wanted me to help her. She went on to tell me that she had been shown how to insert the logo by R, but that now she couldn't quite remember and The Boss Lady wanted this document out a week ago. Yes, she had been working on this a week.
This doesn't explain why she is on my computer.
As it turns out, R had shown her how to insert the logo, but with further questioning I learned that R (who used to have my office before I worked here) had shown her using my computer. So K thought that in order to perform this function, she had to be at the exact computer she learned it. For the week prior, K, most likely, had been attempting to sneak into my office to finish the letter, only to realize that she'd forgotten the lesson. I explained to K that Microsoft Word is the same on all the "machines" and that if she learned it on my computer she could easily do it on her own computer. I'm not sure if she understood that or not, but she left my office nodding and mumbling.
A week later The Boss Lady called me and asked me if I could help Special K insert the logo on the now 2-week-overdue letter. I did it, and now this responsibility has been mine for all letters requiring the logo sent out by Special K, since The Boss Lady doesn't know how to do it either.
Whatever you call her, you might expect that the program Microsoft Word is the linchpin of her duties here in Crazyville. She uses it on her "machine" to create letters for The Boss Lady, to prepare "faxes" with it, to write her loquacious employee review. And yet it will probably not surprise you that Special K does not really know how to use this program. At least not on her computer.
I once walked into my office to begin another enlightening day of work to find Special K sitting at my computer working on a Word document. Her little legs dangled from my chair with her janitor-chic shoes swaying to and fro. She was propping her head up in her hand, as if maybe this skewed angle would provide the answers to her quandaries with the machine, nay, with life. For once she wasn't apologetic -- and hey, shouldn't she have been, she was on my computer? -- but simply told me that she was trying to insert our logo on to a letter that The Boss Lady has asked her to send out.
My first thought (damn logic!) was that perhaps she didn't have a copy of the logo, a problem I could easily remedy by emailing one to her right away, thus getting her off my computer. She mumbled when I suggested that, something about not needing one and how she would be finished in a minute, moving the mouse furtively, legs kicking in time. After a few minutes, during which I procured coffee, I asked Special K if she wanted me to help her. She went on to tell me that she had been shown how to insert the logo by R, but that now she couldn't quite remember and The Boss Lady wanted this document out a week ago. Yes, she had been working on this a week.
This doesn't explain why she is on my computer.
As it turns out, R had shown her how to insert the logo, but with further questioning I learned that R (who used to have my office before I worked here) had shown her using my computer. So K thought that in order to perform this function, she had to be at the exact computer she learned it. For the week prior, K, most likely, had been attempting to sneak into my office to finish the letter, only to realize that she'd forgotten the lesson. I explained to K that Microsoft Word is the same on all the "machines" and that if she learned it on my computer she could easily do it on her own computer. I'm not sure if she understood that or not, but she left my office nodding and mumbling.
A week later The Boss Lady called me and asked me if I could help Special K insert the logo on the now 2-week-overdue letter. I did it, and now this responsibility has been mine for all letters requiring the logo sent out by Special K, since The Boss Lady doesn't know how to do it either.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Special K schedules a lunch; almost pulls a hammy
Speaking of office lunches, I recall a weekly staff meeting not too long ago, when the boss lady-- in a moment of unusual and disconcerting niceness-- suggests that we all go out to lunch together the following day to a little place the next block over. She asks Special K to make to please make a reservation for all of us for 1pm. This is one of the few occasions that Special K has been addressed in any way at a staff meeting, as she is usually resigned to sit at the far end of the room, making weird faces and nodding in agreement to everything that is beyond her comprehension.
The next day we are all ready and excited to go eat promptly at 1pm. Nothing happens. 1:15... at 1:20 or so someone finally asks when are leaving. Special K replies only that she made our reservations for 2pm. Were they booked up at 1? No. She just made them for 2. Just because. Without telling anyone. (Which ironically would be an occasion when one of her EMERGENCY EMAIL ALERTS might actual have been appropriate -- we were starving!)
Lunch was fine when we finally got there. Afterwards, as we were all together walking that half-block back to our building, Special K, without warning, bolts ahead of us, just booking it like she's on fire and runs around though the back alley toward the back of our building. We all actually hardly viewed this as all that odd and I think a quick glance between a few of us was the extent of our acknowledgment of this weirdness. Then, as we arrive at the front door, Special K is there, panting and holding it open for us. She sprinted all the way around the back to open the door for us... like a servant. I appreciate this act, as not any one of certainly could have been bothered to break a sweat be hauling that key fob up to the door sensor, and letting ourselves in. Like peasants.
The next day we are all ready and excited to go eat promptly at 1pm. Nothing happens. 1:15... at 1:20 or so someone finally asks when are leaving. Special K replies only that she made our reservations for 2pm. Were they booked up at 1? No. She just made them for 2. Just because. Without telling anyone. (Which ironically would be an occasion when one of her EMERGENCY EMAIL ALERTS might actual have been appropriate -- we were starving!)
Lunch was fine when we finally got there. Afterwards, as we were all together walking that half-block back to our building, Special K, without warning, bolts ahead of us, just booking it like she's on fire and runs around though the back alley toward the back of our building. We all actually hardly viewed this as all that odd and I think a quick glance between a few of us was the extent of our acknowledgment of this weirdness. Then, as we arrive at the front door, Special K is there, panting and holding it open for us. She sprinted all the way around the back to open the door for us... like a servant. I appreciate this act, as not any one of certainly could have been bothered to break a sweat be hauling that key fob up to the door sensor, and letting ourselves in. Like peasants.
Special K declines invitation to top secret pizza party
Since the boss lady is out of town, we are having our traditional lunch hour pizza party. Organizing the party involves asking all 5 or so staff members if they'll be here, and using a telephone to order a pizza to eat. I bravely assume this perilous task, as I place the good of all mankind above my own safety. (Yes, we have been "busted" for this before... you know by now not to ask). Sometimes we have gone so far as to take the pizza boxes -- the evidence -- to another dumpster, well aware that in doing so, we too have succumbed to the craziness of this place.
I invited Special K to join us. She declined, citing something about having an "emergency appointment" (sans card) 2 hours after the party. Well maybe she can't eat pizza today for whatever reason (in fact, I've hardly ever seen her eat at all, nor use the restroom -- see previous post), so I asked her to still join us. I guarantee you she will not. This means she will be quietly sitting at her desk and we will all be in plain view of each other. It is weird. But what isn't at this point.
Wait, I told her about the secret pizza party... does that mean I must kill her?
I invited Special K to join us. She declined, citing something about having an "emergency appointment" (sans card) 2 hours after the party. Well maybe she can't eat pizza today for whatever reason (in fact, I've hardly ever seen her eat at all, nor use the restroom -- see previous post), so I asked her to still join us. I guarantee you she will not. This means she will be quietly sitting at her desk and we will all be in plain view of each other. It is weird. But what isn't at this point.
Wait, I told her about the secret pizza party... does that mean I must kill her?
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Hoy es la noche de las galerias
Special K received a message in Spanish, which of course blew her mind. So she put it in the mail folder to circulate around with a handwritten message:
9/19/08Thank God for parentheses--I was about to waste my time translating "this" into Russian!
Does anyone know what "this" says? (please translate to English). Special K.
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