Author: Mark Alexander

I started digging through my old journals trying to track down when I took a certain trip, and I ran across this. From 22 July 1997:

Life at work hasn’t improved much since I last bothered to record anything for posterity.  If it weren’t for the fact I really want to get my Novell and WinNT certifications, I would’ve packed up and headed over to PC Personnel a long time ago.

Joel and I were briefly discussing that subject this morning.  Joel, who gave notice last week, has severe “short-timer” attitude, so he probably isn’t the best counselor, but I asked him why things are so god-awful at OHS.  I mean, I’m going to be asked (assuming I leave for reasons other than geographic relocation) why I decided to leave an ostensibly good job.  That’s where I’m faced with the conundrum. Neither one of us can put our fingers on any one thing that makes the job so horrible.  In fact, if I have to really sit and think about it, it’s got to be one of the easiest jobs I’ve ever had.  So why do we all dread coming to it each morning?

It could be the constant attitude we get from the users.  The “us-versus-them” mentality rampant in the company certainly doesn’t contribute to a healthy, encouraging work environment.  Nor does the fact the vast majority of the people upstairs don’t want to bother learning the myriad tools at their disposal—that they simply want their hands held when things go wrong—and you can no doubt understand our frustration.  The idiot users don’t care how things work, or even why they work a particular way.  If it doesn’t work they way they expect—which seems to be way too often based on my own observations—they want us to simply wave a magic wand and bend it to their will, not understanding that this isn’t Burger King and you can’t always have it your way. No one takes the initiative to do anything on their own, and that’s what’s most irritating to me.  Easily 75% of the calls that come in are for stupid, stupid things; stuff the users could easily take care of if they thought past fucking step one!

But no one—well, almost no one—does that.  It truly surprises me when I run across someone who’s bothered to do some independent learning (or even thinking) on their own and is capable of taking care of the little day-to-day glitches that show up with the tools that their entire employment revolves around. 

You would think that when a computer locks up, most people would simply have the sense to reboot it or turn the fucking thing off and on again.  But no! It’s far easier to call 4259 and whine to us.*

Of course, arriving at work in an absolutely foul mood because of the absolute idiocy of drivers in this town doesn’t contribute to a positive work attitude either.

I’m not exactly sure what to make of this, other than what I chose for the title of this post.

*OMG! Just as true today as it was fifteen years ago!

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I now know the most intimate details of the 60-year-old Catholic, Goes-to-Mass-every-Sunday-but-somehow-knows-when-Mercury-is-in-retrograde, had-a-hysterectomy-when-she-was-50, allergic to tree nuts, nurse’s life who sits on the other side of the cube divider from me.

That includes where she lives, the details of each and every commute, every medication she’s taking, where she goes to purchase those meds, every doctor appointment, the never-ending medical problems with her aging dog—that she flat out refuses to put down no matter what it ends up costing her—and of course, every. little. thing. her impossibly adorable grandchildren do.

She doesn’t get along with her brother, and has berated him at length for having bought their mother a complicated, flat panel television last Christmas that the mother is forever screwing up and calling her to fix.

And she giggles. Constantly. Like a teenager. She doesn’t work for us; she works for our parent company, so I didn’t have any interaction with her when she came on board and had no idea what she even looked like for weeks. In fact, before I actually saw her, I thought they’d hired a co-ed fresh out of nursing school. Imagine my surprise when I heard her say she was 60.

The only thing I don’t know is whether or not she swallows, but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time until that bit of unwelcome knowledge is forced upon me as well.

Did I mention a day doesn’t go by where she’s not on the phone to HER Help Desk for some incredibly stupid issue?

All I can say is thank the FSM I don’t have to support this woman. AND for headphones. Most definitely for headphones.

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That was the response from a coworker this afternoon after I replied, “And why are you telling me?” when she came to my cubicle and announced that one of the microwave ovens in the break room wasn’t working, thus confirming that the attitude at my workplace is that if it’s electrical and plugs into a wall, it’s my responsibility.

Seriously.

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