used up all my good karma
Nov. 1st, 2009 06:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7Obviously, the extra hour this morning took up alllll my good karma.
Got to work 20 minutes early. Good, there's a lot of work to do.
Coworker got there the same time. Oh, extra good! My key is very, very tricky to get to work in the door-- the lock is old, half-busted, and sticky. So I let Coworker unlock the door, which he's happy to do-- his key isn't great either, but it works.
He fidgets with it, and I think privately that maybe my key isn't so bad. He turns it one more time and-- oh! The key snaps off in the lock!
We stare at one another for a moment. Did that really just happen? That really just happened.
I look at it. The edge is not protruding, but it is straight in the cylinder. Maybe we can pull it back out. With what? I have nothing. Does Coworker have needle-nose pliers? No, he has a hammer and some screwdrivers. I have nothing; I cleaned out the car recently.
I call Online Manager, who lives nearby and is handy with tools and also doesn't have flu. (District Manager is still suffering horribly with flu and is worse since Tuesday when he first presented with it. This is what you get for still working 10+-hour days when sick. Don't do it.) But OM is at a party half an hour away. He recommends I call DM.
I call DM. He arrives less than five minutes later. He was on his way somewhere, apparently. He is semi-comatose and I worry about him driving like that.
He tries briefly to remove the broken key with tweezers, but to no avail; instead he uses another key to push the broken bit all the way in, and turn the lock. Et voila! Door opens.
He goes in and calls a locksmith. I am delegated the task of speaking to said locksmith when he calls back. DM gives me all the specs I need to know, and instructions to call him with updates. For some reason I am more trustworthy than Coworker, who has been there five years, but whatever. Coworker is easily confused, I suppose.
I go and set up the lab and start developing the twenty rolls of film that are waiting, which I had planned on getting a jump start on, and DM goes home. The locksmith gives a quote, I call and update DM. Good; he'll be there in a couple of hours. Fine.
I go back and print some things.
The printer, a $30,000 machine the size of a washing machine, starts making an ominous thunking noise. I stare at Coworker, who stares back. We wait a moment, and then the machine begins screeching. I stop the alarm and begin troubleshooting. A piece that was repaired with Scotch tape has come detached. i can't figure out where the Scotch tape is meant to go.
I send OM a text message and do my best in the meantime. It doesn't quite work. Oops. I try again. Not so much.
I am half-inside the machine. The locksmith shows up. I have to go deal with him. He has to charge more than his initial quote because the lock is more complex than he'd thought. I am only moderately surprised. He also confesses that he would have been here earlier, but he locked his keys in the work van. "Did you have to call AAA?" I ask, amused.
He scoffs. "I took care of it," he says. "I just, well, it took me a bit."
I laugh. OM calls. "Tech support isn't a text message kinda thing," he says.
"I was seeing if I could fix it first," I say feebly. I go climb back into the machine and he talks me through where to put the Scotch tape. "Awesome." It sort of works, maybe. I start a test batch of prints going, just to see what happens.
Coworker appears in the door. "The scanner's not working," he says.
"Oh," I answer. "It wasn't working yesterday. I think it's unplugged. Find the plug and we can plug it back in."
We look. There's an impenetrable nest of cabling around the outlet. We begin tugging on the ends of cords to try and figure out which one is the power cord, but then the print machine starts screeching from the other room. I run in and there's a horrible popping noise, which means that one of the plastic sprockets in the dryer end of it is skipping teeth. Coworker and I stand and stare at one another in horror. I gamely go over and wrench open the dryer cover, but it's stuck and won't open, and then customers come in the store and we must go help them.
The locksmith is done. Two hundred smackers. Due now. "I said when I called that I needed to be given a bill for us to get Accounting to pay," I say, panicked.
"We can't do that," the locksmith says.
"It's the first thing I asked when I called!" I say, desperate. I don't even *have* $200. It's not like I could pay it out of the register-- we don't keep that much money in there. We'd be crucified for doing it anyway.
"I'll talk to my boss," he says, displeased. "He's the one you talked to on the phone."
"Okay," I say, and must go help a lady with the photo kiosk. The phone rings. It's for me. It's the DM. Hang on. I have to put him on hold. He loves that. The locksmith gives me a bill. I explain to the DM. He is fine with it. "But the print machine isn't working at all," I say.
"I'll call OM," he says. Which is kind of him. I really don't want to. It's their day off, both of them. And OM is obviously at a party or somesuch, or would already have come in.
I go climb back into the machine. I find where all the paper is going-- it was audibly coming from the paper magazine, and being trimmed, and going through something, and while it's going through the taped part (before it was just falling on the floor instead), it was never coming out the other end of the machine. But it was all lodging at the dryer end instead. Fantastic! It's all wadded up and dripping with chemicals. Great times. I pull it out and get fixer all over myself. I hope it's not caustic. (I think it's not. We'll find out.)
So I take apart everything I can find, and put it back together. OM calls. I explain what's going on. He tells me three things to check. They are things I checked before. It goes back together exactly the way it came apart. I am positive of this.
"Fine," he says. "See you in 20."
Great.
I go and get sucked into helping a customer. OM shows up true to his word, 20 minutes later, clad head-to-toe in Bills gear. Ohhhh. There's a game in, like, every sport today. Whoops. Oh dear. I would take a moment, and go see what he's doing, but I'm still with this customer.
The customer talks to me for an hour and a half. I can hear the printer going, and OM wanders by several times, looking encouraging. I break off. "Is it fixed?"
"It worked when I put the first test print through," he answers. "As far as I can see it wasn't broken."
"I had the wadded-up prints sitting there when you got here," I answer.
"I saw them," he says. "I don't doubt it wasn't working. But it was fine when I got here."
So I had fixed it. Great. But while he's here, I get his approval to give this customer discounts on all the accessories she's getting with the fantastically expensive camera I just talked her into. She's spending over three grand, and OM approves several discounts I wouldn't have dared to. Great.
Customer gets out her credit card. We set the camera up-- filter on the lens, lens on the body, memory cards in the body, and so on.
OM leaves.
I swipe Customer's card.
Declined.
Agh! She paid her bill Friday, it must not have gone through yet! Curses! No humans at the 1-800 number at 4:55 on a Sunday. Curses again! No other credit card.
She leaves without her camera. I put it all back into the boxes and stack it in the corner. Hopefully she can get that sorted tomorrow. If not, we can't hold merchandise unpaid. I'll have to take the filter back off the lens, etc... Oy.
It's quitting time.
We never fixed the scanner.
At least we got about halfway caught up on the printing. Not all the way though. There's a lot to do for tomorrow. Oh, I work tomorrow.
Well, whatever. I have keys. I can get into the place tomorrow. I can't think any further ahead than that.
I just want to have a nice, tall, strong drink now, but I have to leave for practice in twenty minutes. I didn't get to eat today, so hopefully I can get through practice without getting dizzy or whatever. Ugh. I had that wondrous bacon breakfast, I hope that'll hold me.
Keep your fingers crossed I make it back home safe tonight, because it has been one of those days.
Gonna go take an ibuprofen, because the first thing that happened to me this morning was that I pinched that nerve in my shoulder/back again, and I'd been hoping it would work itself out, but with a day like today, not bloody likely. Ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch.
Got to work 20 minutes early. Good, there's a lot of work to do.
Coworker got there the same time. Oh, extra good! My key is very, very tricky to get to work in the door-- the lock is old, half-busted, and sticky. So I let Coworker unlock the door, which he's happy to do-- his key isn't great either, but it works.
He fidgets with it, and I think privately that maybe my key isn't so bad. He turns it one more time and-- oh! The key snaps off in the lock!
We stare at one another for a moment. Did that really just happen? That really just happened.
I look at it. The edge is not protruding, but it is straight in the cylinder. Maybe we can pull it back out. With what? I have nothing. Does Coworker have needle-nose pliers? No, he has a hammer and some screwdrivers. I have nothing; I cleaned out the car recently.
I call Online Manager, who lives nearby and is handy with tools and also doesn't have flu. (District Manager is still suffering horribly with flu and is worse since Tuesday when he first presented with it. This is what you get for still working 10+-hour days when sick. Don't do it.) But OM is at a party half an hour away. He recommends I call DM.
I call DM. He arrives less than five minutes later. He was on his way somewhere, apparently. He is semi-comatose and I worry about him driving like that.
He tries briefly to remove the broken key with tweezers, but to no avail; instead he uses another key to push the broken bit all the way in, and turn the lock. Et voila! Door opens.
He goes in and calls a locksmith. I am delegated the task of speaking to said locksmith when he calls back. DM gives me all the specs I need to know, and instructions to call him with updates. For some reason I am more trustworthy than Coworker, who has been there five years, but whatever. Coworker is easily confused, I suppose.
I go and set up the lab and start developing the twenty rolls of film that are waiting, which I had planned on getting a jump start on, and DM goes home. The locksmith gives a quote, I call and update DM. Good; he'll be there in a couple of hours. Fine.
I go back and print some things.
The printer, a $30,000 machine the size of a washing machine, starts making an ominous thunking noise. I stare at Coworker, who stares back. We wait a moment, and then the machine begins screeching. I stop the alarm and begin troubleshooting. A piece that was repaired with Scotch tape has come detached. i can't figure out where the Scotch tape is meant to go.
I send OM a text message and do my best in the meantime. It doesn't quite work. Oops. I try again. Not so much.
I am half-inside the machine. The locksmith shows up. I have to go deal with him. He has to charge more than his initial quote because the lock is more complex than he'd thought. I am only moderately surprised. He also confesses that he would have been here earlier, but he locked his keys in the work van. "Did you have to call AAA?" I ask, amused.
He scoffs. "I took care of it," he says. "I just, well, it took me a bit."
I laugh. OM calls. "Tech support isn't a text message kinda thing," he says.
"I was seeing if I could fix it first," I say feebly. I go climb back into the machine and he talks me through where to put the Scotch tape. "Awesome." It sort of works, maybe. I start a test batch of prints going, just to see what happens.
Coworker appears in the door. "The scanner's not working," he says.
"Oh," I answer. "It wasn't working yesterday. I think it's unplugged. Find the plug and we can plug it back in."
We look. There's an impenetrable nest of cabling around the outlet. We begin tugging on the ends of cords to try and figure out which one is the power cord, but then the print machine starts screeching from the other room. I run in and there's a horrible popping noise, which means that one of the plastic sprockets in the dryer end of it is skipping teeth. Coworker and I stand and stare at one another in horror. I gamely go over and wrench open the dryer cover, but it's stuck and won't open, and then customers come in the store and we must go help them.
The locksmith is done. Two hundred smackers. Due now. "I said when I called that I needed to be given a bill for us to get Accounting to pay," I say, panicked.
"We can't do that," the locksmith says.
"It's the first thing I asked when I called!" I say, desperate. I don't even *have* $200. It's not like I could pay it out of the register-- we don't keep that much money in there. We'd be crucified for doing it anyway.
"I'll talk to my boss," he says, displeased. "He's the one you talked to on the phone."
"Okay," I say, and must go help a lady with the photo kiosk. The phone rings. It's for me. It's the DM. Hang on. I have to put him on hold. He loves that. The locksmith gives me a bill. I explain to the DM. He is fine with it. "But the print machine isn't working at all," I say.
"I'll call OM," he says. Which is kind of him. I really don't want to. It's their day off, both of them. And OM is obviously at a party or somesuch, or would already have come in.
I go climb back into the machine. I find where all the paper is going-- it was audibly coming from the paper magazine, and being trimmed, and going through something, and while it's going through the taped part (before it was just falling on the floor instead), it was never coming out the other end of the machine. But it was all lodging at the dryer end instead. Fantastic! It's all wadded up and dripping with chemicals. Great times. I pull it out and get fixer all over myself. I hope it's not caustic. (I think it's not. We'll find out.)
So I take apart everything I can find, and put it back together. OM calls. I explain what's going on. He tells me three things to check. They are things I checked before. It goes back together exactly the way it came apart. I am positive of this.
"Fine," he says. "See you in 20."
Great.
I go and get sucked into helping a customer. OM shows up true to his word, 20 minutes later, clad head-to-toe in Bills gear. Ohhhh. There's a game in, like, every sport today. Whoops. Oh dear. I would take a moment, and go see what he's doing, but I'm still with this customer.
The customer talks to me for an hour and a half. I can hear the printer going, and OM wanders by several times, looking encouraging. I break off. "Is it fixed?"
"It worked when I put the first test print through," he answers. "As far as I can see it wasn't broken."
"I had the wadded-up prints sitting there when you got here," I answer.
"I saw them," he says. "I don't doubt it wasn't working. But it was fine when I got here."
So I had fixed it. Great. But while he's here, I get his approval to give this customer discounts on all the accessories she's getting with the fantastically expensive camera I just talked her into. She's spending over three grand, and OM approves several discounts I wouldn't have dared to. Great.
Customer gets out her credit card. We set the camera up-- filter on the lens, lens on the body, memory cards in the body, and so on.
OM leaves.
I swipe Customer's card.
Declined.
Agh! She paid her bill Friday, it must not have gone through yet! Curses! No humans at the 1-800 number at 4:55 on a Sunday. Curses again! No other credit card.
She leaves without her camera. I put it all back into the boxes and stack it in the corner. Hopefully she can get that sorted tomorrow. If not, we can't hold merchandise unpaid. I'll have to take the filter back off the lens, etc... Oy.
It's quitting time.
We never fixed the scanner.
At least we got about halfway caught up on the printing. Not all the way though. There's a lot to do for tomorrow. Oh, I work tomorrow.
Well, whatever. I have keys. I can get into the place tomorrow. I can't think any further ahead than that.
I just want to have a nice, tall, strong drink now, but I have to leave for practice in twenty minutes. I didn't get to eat today, so hopefully I can get through practice without getting dizzy or whatever. Ugh. I had that wondrous bacon breakfast, I hope that'll hold me.
Keep your fingers crossed I make it back home safe tonight, because it has been one of those days.
Gonna go take an ibuprofen, because the first thing that happened to me this morning was that I pinched that nerve in my shoulder/back again, and I'd been hoping it would work itself out, but with a day like today, not bloody likely. Ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch.
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Date: 2009-11-02 08:35 am (UTC)/Eva
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Date: 2009-11-02 12:51 pm (UTC)Last night I sat down after the Electric Fridge Handle incident and started designing an embroidery based on those Pennsylvania Dutch hex symbol things, but I didn't like it so I ripped out the few stitches I'd started and made a little embroidered turtle instead.