(no subject)
Oct. 23rd, 2008 09:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
froodleCramps. CRAMPS! Argh why! Why would you turn up now, at the start of the weekend, when things should be beautiful and full of joy? Why not turn up on Monday when your evil agony would just merge into the general agony of having to work in customer service and I would barely notice the difference? Bastards!
On a related note, work was even more annoying than usual today. I was mentoring - which essentially means I sit with some poor recently-employed sucker and lie to him about the many and varied joys of being employed at the House of Gas - and I had to write up a bunch of quality assessments and a "personal development plan*" for him and hand it to his training manager and the guy who will eventually be his full-time manager, and once I'd done it I got emails from both of them praising how thorough I was and how professional it looked.
And all I could think of doing was emailing them back and saying, "Yes, don't you think I should be on the fucking Correspondance team?!"
Ahem. Not that I'm holding a long-festering grudge or anything.
Anyway, I'm going to try and be happy and watch Numb3rs and eat this chocolate orange I bought at lunchtime. I just watched that episode where Papa Eppes has to go to a scary old lady birthday party and Charlie and Don have a spat in front of the FBI building about who has to go with him, and Charlie walks off in a mood and then you get this shot which is just Don standing there fuming for about ten seconds before he goes back to work, and it's beautiful. Oh Don, ILU even if you don't pistol-whip people enough anymore.
*Which, by the way, is a fucking joke - you only get put forward for non-Phone Monkey-related tasks if your manager decides to do it, meaning, in essence, it's not what you know, it's who you blow.
On a related note, work was even more annoying than usual today. I was mentoring - which essentially means I sit with some poor recently-employed sucker and lie to him about the many and varied joys of being employed at the House of Gas - and I had to write up a bunch of quality assessments and a "personal development plan*" for him and hand it to his training manager and the guy who will eventually be his full-time manager, and once I'd done it I got emails from both of them praising how thorough I was and how professional it looked.
And all I could think of doing was emailing them back and saying, "Yes, don't you think I should be on the fucking Correspondance team?!"
Ahem. Not that I'm holding a long-festering grudge or anything.
Anyway, I'm going to try and be happy and watch Numb3rs and eat this chocolate orange I bought at lunchtime. I just watched that episode where Papa Eppes has to go to a scary old lady birthday party and Charlie and Don have a spat in front of the FBI building about who has to go with him, and Charlie walks off in a mood and then you get this shot which is just Don standing there fuming for about ten seconds before he goes back to work, and it's beautiful. Oh Don, ILU even if you don't pistol-whip people enough anymore.
*Which, by the way, is a fucking joke - you only get put forward for non-Phone Monkey-related tasks if your manager decides to do it, meaning, in essence, it's not what you know, it's who you blow.
