Strange as it may seem, this life is based on a true story." - Ashleigh Brilliant
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True blue Scorpio
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June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 December 2003 January 2004 February 2004 March 2004 April 2004 May 2004 June 2004 July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 January 2006 February 2006 March 2006
Monday, September 15, 2003
I do not like Mondays. I especially do not like Mondays where insanity from Friday leaks into a fresh, brand new week.
Regardless of the fact that the email said in ALL CAPS and bright red text that this was an URGENT email, and that the patch was an important and mandatory download that had to be installed immediately, there are people calling me this morning. "Oh, I didn't do it Friday. I need help."
Lovely. Already I've gotten another "I'm reading the instructions on the email, and it says 'Click the icon'. Where is the icon?"
It's the attachment that appears as an icon under those words you just read to me.
"Oooooh. Okay. I see it now."
I think the thing that gets me about these is that most of these people make triple what I do. This is the joy of being a tech. But, really, it is cool. How many people are lucky enough to have a job that provides such "DOH!"-type laughs.
I actually had someone call me once to tell me their computer was broken. Oh, I'm sure it is. What it's telling you?
"Everytime I try to start it up, it's just a black screen telling me something about a disk error. I've turned it back off and started it back up a few times, and keep getting this same error."
Is there a floppy disk in the drive?
"Huh? Oh, wait, yes, there is. Is that it?"
What do you think?
I know it doesn't sound like it, but I do like my job. But what fun would it be if I couldn't gripe about it? Keeping all of this stuff in would make someone's head explode.
The thing is, other than when it comes to computers, these are fairly intelligent people (okay, some of them).
Baret started work today back at this agency. I don't think he's overly excited, but he's going to be working close to home (inspecting LSU), and he won't have much office time. I wish I could work out in the field. I drove him to work this morning, and he got to view some Baton Rouge-morning-commute-madness firsthand. I told him he'd best get used to it.
This old fart pulls out, never bothering to stop for the Stop sign or look to see if anyone was coming, in this very nice, very new shiny white Caddy. I couldn't see if it was a male or female old fart, but the androgynous person proceeds to drive in the center of the road at approximately 2 mph. This didn't last long (thankfully) because it then came to a dead stop in the center of the road. It sat there for a few seconds, then put its right blinker on. And there it sat. And sat. I laid on the horn - thinking maybe the driver had fallen asleep or something. The androgynous old fart then put its left blinker on at the sound of my horn. And sat. WTF?! I floored it around as it started to make a very painfully slow and unsure turn left. Who lets people like this still drive?
Ah, the joys of Monday. And it's only 10 am. In other thrilling life news, I may be seeing the illustrious ex this evening. I forbid him to come to my house, but told him I'd meet him somewhere after work for a few hours. After I chewed his out for not showing up last week and not calling. I'm hoping he'll be a no-show again. No one understands why I keep being there for him. -shrug- He needs me and I care about him; I promised him I'd always be there for him and if I'm anything, I'm loyal. No one seems to understand, but that's ok. No one ever did understand anything between he and I.
Hopefully Baret and I will get to go to lunch. They don't have his uniform in yet, so I told his supervisor to tell him he had to wear one of the new-employee red shirts. He was a little nervous, even though he didn't admit it, that they'd put him in one of the red shirts (they're huge). Being able to use his supervisor to play jokes on him is only one advantage of his working out of the same office. Hehehe. You see, Baret is very small in the fashion of most true Cajuns...he's 5'4". And he's the tallest one in his family. That would be fine, except that he doesn't gain weight. Ever. He weighs 99 lbs., I shit you not. He hates his size, but he's really the cutest, most handsome little guy ever.
Wasn't that just oozing with cute-coupleness. Yuck. Believe it or not, I'm a die-hard romantic. I'm just not into being all public about it.
Well, time to end another long, rambling post about absolutely nothing. Here's to a gets-better-as-it-goes week ahead for everyone.