did i even mention?
Nov. 7th, 2005 08:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7The server at Z's workplace crashed and he spent Saturday afternoon-to-evening (about 6 hours) and then yesterday all day (about 8 hours) at work fixing it?
No?
So yeah, none of his plans for this weekend happened, which is why I still can't start my Christmas shopping. (One of the things he was going to do was electronically draw the names for the Xmas gift exchange his family does.)
I awoke this morning and I don't know what I'd dreamed but I was convinced I'd been beaten up. I arose creakily to answer nature's call, and discovered that indeed I am quite stiff and sore. How this could be, as yesterday's shift was slow and there were absolutely no beatings, I do not know, but I feel like an old lady and am creaking tremulously around the house trying not to put any weight on either foot. (As I don't know how to hover, that's not working.)
Poor Z is weary and frustrated, but has succeeded in demolishing the old server and cannibalizing its guts. He also has its gutted corpse sitting on his desk wearing a dunce cap he made it on Saturday.
He WILL be taking two karma days later. But, when he doesn't know.
I am attempting again to get cute puppy photos online. I know, I finally found it last night at the top level of the menus, but as i said, it was rather too late. I hate when people casually make "logical" changes according to their own logic not mine.
Of course this is nothing compared to work, which has the very worst-designed touchscreen interfaces ever created. (Two restaurants with almost identical menus call the same items different things. One menu features "Chicken Sand" , "Chicken Fing", "Chicken Wing"-- just you try differentiating among them at high speed. And how many times have I ordered "Chicken Fing" and had wings come over because the cook couldn't differentiate on the ticket?) And the paper shit is even worse-- I haven't mentioned this before, I know, but now we are required to count all our liquor bottles-- which is well over a hundred bottles-- and mark them off on a sheet that is NOT ALPHABETIZED. It is not in any order. The first three items on it are the well vodka, the well rum, and then a call-brand whiskey. Why? No reason. They appear to be in the order that the manager saw the bottles in the cabinet when compiling the sheet. As a result, it takes approximately four to five times as long to complete the count as it ought to. Does he care? NO.
Frustrating.
So. Z has scooted off to work, but I have an extra hour to sit at home now, because the slightly more sensible manager has deigned to acquiesce to my request to adjust my hours sensibly. Of course, this means I will be stuck at work later, but it ought to also mean I make more money. So that'll be nice. But tiring.
I am so so so very, very weary that I cannot really appreciate this. I believe I will go back to bed. I really ought to shower first but I just don't want to expend the effort.
No?
So yeah, none of his plans for this weekend happened, which is why I still can't start my Christmas shopping. (One of the things he was going to do was electronically draw the names for the Xmas gift exchange his family does.)
I awoke this morning and I don't know what I'd dreamed but I was convinced I'd been beaten up. I arose creakily to answer nature's call, and discovered that indeed I am quite stiff and sore. How this could be, as yesterday's shift was slow and there were absolutely no beatings, I do not know, but I feel like an old lady and am creaking tremulously around the house trying not to put any weight on either foot. (As I don't know how to hover, that's not working.)
Poor Z is weary and frustrated, but has succeeded in demolishing the old server and cannibalizing its guts. He also has its gutted corpse sitting on his desk wearing a dunce cap he made it on Saturday.
He WILL be taking two karma days later. But, when he doesn't know.
I am attempting again to get cute puppy photos online. I know, I finally found it last night at the top level of the menus, but as i said, it was rather too late. I hate when people casually make "logical" changes according to their own logic not mine. Of course this is nothing compared to work, which has the very worst-designed touchscreen interfaces ever created. (Two restaurants with almost identical menus call the same items different things. One menu features "Chicken Sand" , "Chicken Fing", "Chicken Wing"-- just you try differentiating among them at high speed. And how many times have I ordered "Chicken Fing" and had wings come over because the cook couldn't differentiate on the ticket?) And the paper shit is even worse-- I haven't mentioned this before, I know, but now we are required to count all our liquor bottles-- which is well over a hundred bottles-- and mark them off on a sheet that is NOT ALPHABETIZED. It is not in any order. The first three items on it are the well vodka, the well rum, and then a call-brand whiskey. Why? No reason. They appear to be in the order that the manager saw the bottles in the cabinet when compiling the sheet. As a result, it takes approximately four to five times as long to complete the count as it ought to. Does he care? NO.
Frustrating.
So. Z has scooted off to work, but I have an extra hour to sit at home now, because the slightly more sensible manager has deigned to acquiesce to my request to adjust my hours sensibly. Of course, this means I will be stuck at work later, but it ought to also mean I make more money. So that'll be nice. But tiring.
I am so so so very, very weary that I cannot really appreciate this. I believe I will go back to bed. I really ought to shower first but I just don't want to expend the effort.
