![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
slipjig3Well, it's official: my job has succeeded in turning my brain into half-set vanilla pudding. The last few days have been spent trying very hard not to jump on top of the desk, bare my chest and shriek, "Let my people GO!" Yesterday, Jimmy threw a paper wad at me, and I responded by throwing 17 of them back at him, unwarned, all at once. I experimented a bit with standing at my work station with the keyboard held flat against my chest; I was toying with the idea of attaching a guitar strap to it, so I could type like the synth player in a tacky 80's new wave band. I stop the world and melt with yoooouuu....
Ehh. We all deal with the stress in our own little ways. Flock of Seagulls impressions are less likely to earn me a psych screening than Colleen's favorite tactics, which border on the sociopathic. At the supervisors' desk, they keep Xeroxed coloring book pages for visiting kids to play with, usually keeping them seasonably appropriate. Colleen is fond of taking these pages and, um, editing them with scissors, then taping them to the windows. Her grandest gesture yet was last month, when kids could choose either a leprechaun or the Easter Bunny; she created the image of the Easter Bunny, eating a leprechaun. Yeah, that.
Work has just been plain peculiar lately. Today I dialed an answering machine on which a woman, completely sincerely, said, "I'm so disappointed that I missed your call; please leave me a nifty message and make my day." I had to put everything on hold so I could write that down. (I didn't comply, because I have no idea what constitues a "nifty" message.) Even the crank calls from bored, unattended kids are getting weirder: "Operator, since there's a 911, is there also a 912?"
In other news, they still haven't installed an office wet bar.
Ehh. We all deal with the stress in our own little ways. Flock of Seagulls impressions are less likely to earn me a psych screening than Colleen's favorite tactics, which border on the sociopathic. At the supervisors' desk, they keep Xeroxed coloring book pages for visiting kids to play with, usually keeping them seasonably appropriate. Colleen is fond of taking these pages and, um, editing them with scissors, then taping them to the windows. Her grandest gesture yet was last month, when kids could choose either a leprechaun or the Easter Bunny; she created the image of the Easter Bunny, eating a leprechaun. Yeah, that.
Work has just been plain peculiar lately. Today I dialed an answering machine on which a woman, completely sincerely, said, "I'm so disappointed that I missed your call; please leave me a nifty message and make my day." I had to put everything on hold so I could write that down. (I didn't comply, because I have no idea what constitues a "nifty" message.) Even the crank calls from bored, unattended kids are getting weirder: "Operator, since there's a 911, is there also a 912?"
In other news, they still haven't installed an office wet bar.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2005-04-26 08:56 pm (UTC)I definately think you should add a guitar strap to the keyboad, and get a really long cord to it (or a cordless keyboard) and type all over the office.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-04-27 08:49 pm (UTC)Me: "Do you have an emergency?"
Rotten kid: [pause] *click*
*sigh* If they're gonna crank the operator, they really need to have a follow-up ready.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-04-27 06:24 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-04-27 08:49 pm (UTC)