weekends are too short.
May. 2nd, 2003 10:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7It's Friday and I'm already complaining that my weekend will be too short. But I know it will be. Because I don't know what I have to do, and know I won't have time to figure it out and do it in only two days. Ah well. I need a vacation; I'm starting to feel stifled and icky here, and just needlessly snapped at Computer Guy, who was doing his usual "y'all are idiots for doing what I don't remember telling you to do" schtick, which I usually just ignore, but oh well. I should've brought the laptop in today, so i could listen to iTunes.
[side rant: iTunes 4 is So Fucking Cool, I want an iPod more than I want life itself, I think the new mini-TiBooks are sexy as hell and covet them, I want an Apple Cinema display, I need to work another job so I can save up so I can singlehandedly support Apple Inc. Curse you, Zobar David Macuser Peter Applefiend Klein-Schmidt StickBoy, for showing me the glowing beauty of X and fostering in me this dangerous craving.]
Sigh.
I'm nearly done with the website. I mean really, I honestly think I am. I'm taking forever; I could've done this faster if I'd known what I was doing. So it won't take so long, in future. Perhaps once I'm done I will do my one at home...
My co-worker, who is a sweet woman who just occasionally says exactly the wrong thing, will be out for about 3 days because her mother-in-law just died. We're going to send her a fruit basket or something and I'm trying to dodge being put in charge of it; I'm realizing more and more that I'm at least as socially inept as Dave, but I get away with it because I'm a chick and can insert a giggle here and there and people just don't notice that I have no freaking clue how to talk to other humans. I'm a dork, but the kind with boobs, and the kind that's dorky about sort of sexy things, like many English majors who take it too seriously.
Ah well.
Dave's acquiring a slightly new role at his work, which perplexes and amuses him. There are two programmers, and then eight other people, and that's the entire company. Dave's the junior programmer. The other programmer, about 4 years his senior, is the boss' son. Still, he's competent. Anyhow. The Sales guy often has trouble with the database, etc. He comes to the senior programmer. The senior programmer throws up his hands and says "I'm so freaking busy, I don't know when I can fix it." Dave twiddles his thumbs (he works hard, but has enforced periods of idleness while the stuff he's working on is waiting to break.) The sales guy came one day while the senior programmer was absent. Dave said "Oh gosh, I'd better fix that," and did. Sales guy gets a little light bulb over his head, and enters Dave's phone into his speed dial.
Now Dave's the one that gets all the bug reports from the sales guy, and indeed from most of the office. He then goes to the senior programmer, who doesn't throw his hands up because it's Dave who knows fine well what he has to do and that he does have to fix what's broken. (Also, Dave will have done the troubleshooting, and knows exactly what's wrong, and that what's wrong is the other programmer's fault.)
The difference: Dave feels personally responsible for every bit of code he puts out, and has a bizarrely strong work ethic given what a slacker he generally is. So he takes it personally if things are broken.
I think it works out well, but little does Dave know, he's starting to become more involved in his job and take more responsibility for it. Ooh. He might not be a code monkey forever... he might move up to something like management if he's not careful. Oooh.
^.^
Right, I've meanwhile perused Dreamweaver's help file, so I know what I'm doing now. And this weekend, I think I know what I want to do-- redo my home website, and rewrite my resume to reflect how cool I am now. Not that I want a new job; I just think it would be cool to see how much better I am now on paper. :-D
(I also think we really ought to go shopping a little bit at least, to buy Dave's sister's husband a present for the party we're attending next weekend, and to get me some decent work shoes, as I've had catastrophic failures in three pairs now, and am down to two pairs of shoes, two pairs of flip-flops, and two pairs of worn-out sneakers, total. That's disgraceful, for a woman who ever leaves the house. But, I made Dave go to the mall last night-- the Westchester, by the way, is the world's most pretentous mall. They don't even HAVE a J.C. Penney's or an Old Navy or, God Forbid, an H&M. That would be beneath them. So substitutes at double the price are there, but I'm really not interested in paying $65 for a plain white blouse. Call me stupid or boorish or something, but if I can get it for $15, I'd rather. I did consider paying $18 for an undershirt that said "boys are stinky" but decided against it.)
So, I'm off to go finish our website. I mean really, truly, honestly, totally, I'm really going to do it, for real. Next week.
[side rant: iTunes 4 is So Fucking Cool, I want an iPod more than I want life itself, I think the new mini-TiBooks are sexy as hell and covet them, I want an Apple Cinema display, I need to work another job so I can save up so I can singlehandedly support Apple Inc. Curse you, Zobar David Macuser Peter Applefiend Klein-Schmidt StickBoy, for showing me the glowing beauty of X and fostering in me this dangerous craving.]
Sigh.
I'm nearly done with the website. I mean really, I honestly think I am. I'm taking forever; I could've done this faster if I'd known what I was doing. So it won't take so long, in future. Perhaps once I'm done I will do my one at home...
My co-worker, who is a sweet woman who just occasionally says exactly the wrong thing, will be out for about 3 days because her mother-in-law just died. We're going to send her a fruit basket or something and I'm trying to dodge being put in charge of it; I'm realizing more and more that I'm at least as socially inept as Dave, but I get away with it because I'm a chick and can insert a giggle here and there and people just don't notice that I have no freaking clue how to talk to other humans. I'm a dork, but the kind with boobs, and the kind that's dorky about sort of sexy things, like many English majors who take it too seriously.
Ah well.
Dave's acquiring a slightly new role at his work, which perplexes and amuses him. There are two programmers, and then eight other people, and that's the entire company. Dave's the junior programmer. The other programmer, about 4 years his senior, is the boss' son. Still, he's competent. Anyhow. The Sales guy often has trouble with the database, etc. He comes to the senior programmer. The senior programmer throws up his hands and says "I'm so freaking busy, I don't know when I can fix it." Dave twiddles his thumbs (he works hard, but has enforced periods of idleness while the stuff he's working on is waiting to break.) The sales guy came one day while the senior programmer was absent. Dave said "Oh gosh, I'd better fix that," and did. Sales guy gets a little light bulb over his head, and enters Dave's phone into his speed dial.
Now Dave's the one that gets all the bug reports from the sales guy, and indeed from most of the office. He then goes to the senior programmer, who doesn't throw his hands up because it's Dave who knows fine well what he has to do and that he does have to fix what's broken. (Also, Dave will have done the troubleshooting, and knows exactly what's wrong, and that what's wrong is the other programmer's fault.)
The difference: Dave feels personally responsible for every bit of code he puts out, and has a bizarrely strong work ethic given what a slacker he generally is. So he takes it personally if things are broken.
I think it works out well, but little does Dave know, he's starting to become more involved in his job and take more responsibility for it. Ooh. He might not be a code monkey forever... he might move up to something like management if he's not careful. Oooh.
^.^
Right, I've meanwhile perused Dreamweaver's help file, so I know what I'm doing now. And this weekend, I think I know what I want to do-- redo my home website, and rewrite my resume to reflect how cool I am now. Not that I want a new job; I just think it would be cool to see how much better I am now on paper. :-D
(I also think we really ought to go shopping a little bit at least, to buy Dave's sister's husband a present for the party we're attending next weekend, and to get me some decent work shoes, as I've had catastrophic failures in three pairs now, and am down to two pairs of shoes, two pairs of flip-flops, and two pairs of worn-out sneakers, total. That's disgraceful, for a woman who ever leaves the house. But, I made Dave go to the mall last night-- the Westchester, by the way, is the world's most pretentous mall. They don't even HAVE a J.C. Penney's or an Old Navy or, God Forbid, an H&M. That would be beneath them. So substitutes at double the price are there, but I'm really not interested in paying $65 for a plain white blouse. Call me stupid or boorish or something, but if I can get it for $15, I'd rather. I did consider paying $18 for an undershirt that said "boys are stinky" but decided against it.)
So, I'm off to go finish our website. I mean really, truly, honestly, totally, I'm really going to do it, for real. Next week.
He says 'frickin', not 'freaking.'
Date: 2003-05-04 02:15 pm (UTC)