Day 1:
Awake to a feeling of excitement. It's the first day of programming! Open brand new SQL software and start writing customer database. Almost finished, break for lunch.
Lunch over, start where I left off. Queries are not working properly. Notice stupid mistake. Start over. Make same stupid mistake. Try again. Make exact same stupid mistake for the third time! Hit head on desk, start over.
End of day, save work, log off.
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Day 2:
Awake to begin more coding. Suddenly realize all of yesterday's work is gone. Whaaaat??? Discover that this particular SQL software requires a link to a server before it will save work. Frown. Jerry rig Dropbox to act as an onboard server. Start from scratch.
Make same mistake as yesterday. Yell "CRAP!" and start over.
Save to Dropbox, feel smug.
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Day 3:
The software is burning my work in front of me at the end of the day. Dropbox is not SQL compatible. Growl and call boss to get server info (which maybe I should have gotten on day one). Software refuses to hook up to company server. Call server host.
Server hosting company is largely useless. Do online research. Do more online research. Eyes strain. Getting a headache. Call hosting company again. Still useless.
Try one thing. Try another. Call hosting company for the third time, get someone knowledgeable (3rd time's the charm). Discover that this particular software is incompatible with their servers. Swear.
Download server supported software. Try to connect. Fail. Try again. Call hosting company. Back to useless techs.
Sigh and log off. Knit a few rows to prevent myself from throwing computer out the window.
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Day 4:
Grumble and try to log on again. Cannot connect. Call hosting company. Largely useless again. Do online research. Find crucial missing component to cold fusion. Consider winning the Nobel Prize for science. Try to connect again. Fail. Hopes dashed.
More online research. Open mind to the secrets of the universe. It's all so clear now! I can see a solution to most of the world's problems (it involves pie. Lots and lots of pie)! And hey, I've discovered Unified Field Theory! Try to connect. Fail. Weep quietly.
Call hosting company. Spend two whole freaking hours on the phone with a tech. Still can't connect, and in the process I've developed a headache from being forced to listen to the high-pitched, screeching noise their hold service considers to be music for easily half an hour.
Service ticket is made. Log off and take some aspirin.
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Day 5:
I AM THE GOD OF CODE!!!! ALL COMPUTER PROGRAMS WILL BOW BEFORE ME!!!!
Fail at connecting to the stupid database. Sigh. Realize my entire week has ended with nothing to show for it but a twitch over my right eye and a deep desire to begin drinking heavily. I am code's sad and annoyed slave. I exist solely to please the deranged deity in charge of computers.
Log off and knit for awhile.
Well played, computer. Well played.
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Saturday, January 12, 2013
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Stories from Work: Dear Crazy People
Dear Crazy People,
You exist. That's fine. I have no problem with this. I never said that was the problem. You are free to be as crazy as you wish...
...so long as you do it away from me when I'm working.
See, the problem isn't that you're crazy. The problem is that when you start being crazy I have to stop what I'm doing to stop the crazy.
Case Study No. 1: The Lady Who Trapped Me in the Bathroom
Like all members of the Homo sapiens sapiens family, I eventually feel the need to heed the call of nature and use a toilet. I just made the mistake of having this need on the day of the career fair.
The problem is that the only bathroom within reasonable access is on the second floor. When I was doing my business, you came out and started talking to some poor person about how she would have so many more opportunities at your company than anywhere else. Never mind that her degree was in something you'd have no use for. Your company could help her and she'd better respond! She left quite quickly.
I finished and was washing my hands, thinking you'd see my restaurant-issued apron, my name tag, my hugely oversized shirt and the spots of stuff on my clothes and realize that I was busy. You know that joke about what happens when you assume?
"And which company are you with?" you asked. Uh oh.
"Um, I work upstairs in the restaurant," I replied. That's when you went on and on about how I was ruining my life (your words, not mine) and how your company could make it so much better. Thanks. Right. I have to get back to work now.
Except you wouldn't let me leave.
Oh great. The lunch rush is about to be in full swing, I'm not there, I'm trying to slip past you but you literally are not letting me leave the bathroom, and you're not listening when I'm trying to tell you that I need to get back to work.
I was tempted to make you feel like an idiot. That wouldn't have been nice, but it would have possibly made you shut up for a minute so I could escape your nefarious clutches. I was tempted to tell you that I was a student getting a second bachelor's degree and that I simply didn't have the time to add a full career to my class load.
Eventually you were distracted by a flushing toilet (reminding me that I'm standing in a bathroom), so I ran and hid in the space the doors of the elevator made, hoping you wouldn't come looking for me. That had to be a funny sight, I thought as I peeked furtively around the corner. Whoops! You almost saw me!
It explains why there were people laughing at me as they went downstairs.
Case Study No. 2: "No Chili Sauce Please"
One of the things we serve is Yakisoba. It's very popular, so we make a lot of it. It's also the one thing that gets more special requests than anything else on the menue.
One day I had a table with four Yakisoba bowls. Three of them had no sauce. Now, if you know anything about yakisoba, you know that the bulk of the flavor comes from a lightly spiced sauce that's cooked with the noodles and vegetables. Okay. This is a common request. Some people don't like spicy things.
Well, I get to the table and there's only one girl there. You, dear crazy person. The other three have gone off to parts unknown (but will be back soon so I should just leave the food right there, m'kay?) I asked you who got what. You told me that your three friends ordered the food with no sauce, and you had it with sauce. Okay, not a problem. I hand you the sauced bowl. You take a bite like you've taken it with a shovel, instead of a fork.
That's when your friends returned and I discovered why you took such a big bite.
"Um, excuse me, but I ordered mine with sauce," your friend said, ever-so-politely to me.
"Oh, yeah, I wanted to try it with sauce so I did," you said. Wait, what?! Your poor friend. You'd practically eaten half of her food in one bite so she couldn't have any.
I offered to take her bowl back and have sauce put on and she accepted. When I came back, I asked how the food was.
"Wow! It has so much more flavor with the sauce!" You exclaimed. No duh, dear. The bulk of the flavor of a lot of dishes comes from the sauce it's in.
(As a clarification, this customer is both rude and crazy. She's rude for assuming she could take her friend's food, and crazy for not realizing that the sauce gives it flavor. Or maybe she's just crazy, period, because I had to fix this mess.)
So, dear crazy people, please. Stop. Just stop. I get that you're nuts and that you obviously can't completely control nuts, but seriously? Find someone else to do it to.
You exist. That's fine. I have no problem with this. I never said that was the problem. You are free to be as crazy as you wish...
...so long as you do it away from me when I'm working.
See, the problem isn't that you're crazy. The problem is that when you start being crazy I have to stop what I'm doing to stop the crazy.
Case Study No. 1: The Lady Who Trapped Me in the Bathroom
Like all members of the Homo sapiens sapiens family, I eventually feel the need to heed the call of nature and use a toilet. I just made the mistake of having this need on the day of the career fair.
The problem is that the only bathroom within reasonable access is on the second floor. When I was doing my business, you came out and started talking to some poor person about how she would have so many more opportunities at your company than anywhere else. Never mind that her degree was in something you'd have no use for. Your company could help her and she'd better respond! She left quite quickly.
I finished and was washing my hands, thinking you'd see my restaurant-issued apron, my name tag, my hugely oversized shirt and the spots of stuff on my clothes and realize that I was busy. You know that joke about what happens when you assume?
"And which company are you with?" you asked. Uh oh.
"Um, I work upstairs in the restaurant," I replied. That's when you went on and on about how I was ruining my life (your words, not mine) and how your company could make it so much better. Thanks. Right. I have to get back to work now.
Except you wouldn't let me leave.
Oh great. The lunch rush is about to be in full swing, I'm not there, I'm trying to slip past you but you literally are not letting me leave the bathroom, and you're not listening when I'm trying to tell you that I need to get back to work.
I was tempted to make you feel like an idiot. That wouldn't have been nice, but it would have possibly made you shut up for a minute so I could escape your nefarious clutches. I was tempted to tell you that I was a student getting a second bachelor's degree and that I simply didn't have the time to add a full career to my class load.
Eventually you were distracted by a flushing toilet (reminding me that I'm standing in a bathroom), so I ran and hid in the space the doors of the elevator made, hoping you wouldn't come looking for me. That had to be a funny sight, I thought as I peeked furtively around the corner. Whoops! You almost saw me!
It explains why there were people laughing at me as they went downstairs.
Case Study No. 2: "No Chili Sauce Please"
One of the things we serve is Yakisoba. It's very popular, so we make a lot of it. It's also the one thing that gets more special requests than anything else on the menue.
One day I had a table with four Yakisoba bowls. Three of them had no sauce. Now, if you know anything about yakisoba, you know that the bulk of the flavor comes from a lightly spiced sauce that's cooked with the noodles and vegetables. Okay. This is a common request. Some people don't like spicy things.
Well, I get to the table and there's only one girl there. You, dear crazy person. The other three have gone off to parts unknown (but will be back soon so I should just leave the food right there, m'kay?) I asked you who got what. You told me that your three friends ordered the food with no sauce, and you had it with sauce. Okay, not a problem. I hand you the sauced bowl. You take a bite like you've taken it with a shovel, instead of a fork.
That's when your friends returned and I discovered why you took such a big bite.
"Um, excuse me, but I ordered mine with sauce," your friend said, ever-so-politely to me.
"Oh, yeah, I wanted to try it with sauce so I did," you said. Wait, what?! Your poor friend. You'd practically eaten half of her food in one bite so she couldn't have any.
I offered to take her bowl back and have sauce put on and she accepted. When I came back, I asked how the food was.
"Wow! It has so much more flavor with the sauce!" You exclaimed. No duh, dear. The bulk of the flavor of a lot of dishes comes from the sauce it's in.
(As a clarification, this customer is both rude and crazy. She's rude for assuming she could take her friend's food, and crazy for not realizing that the sauce gives it flavor. Or maybe she's just crazy, period, because I had to fix this mess.)
So, dear crazy people, please. Stop. Just stop. I get that you're nuts and that you obviously can't completely control nuts, but seriously? Find someone else to do it to.
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