Hey, New Temp, I know people talk to themselves while they work sometimes - I do it, too - but please, do you really have to talk yourself through every single step of the process you’ve been hired to do, over and over and over and over, just barely whispering to yourself “Click here, click there, ok, now this, that goes here…” over and over and over.
Where in blazes does she FIND these people?
On the plus side, I’m feeling smugly competent today. I know how email works! Go me!
Fucking cats! Stay away from my coffee! I just want to set it down between sips without a cat sticking it’s head in the cup. They only do this with coffee, who the hell do they think they are, Garfield?
And dammit, iPhone, when I type HELL, I mean HELL not he’ll. Stop autocorrecting it!
Listen, you twit. I know that you take some weird, perverse pleasure in describing how little you eat. But when you tell me that you and your husband regularly go to Subway to share a six-inch veggie sub? Who the fuck do you think you’re fooling at this point?
While this is indeed rantworthy, in the intrest of accuracy, let’s blame the correct entity.
Portion sizes are mandated by the FDA, allegedly with the intent of standardization throughout the industry. From what I can tell, the portion sizes are derived from formulas developed by the same divinely inspired people that bring us credit ratings and IRS audit decisions.
I suspect that chicken entrails, tea leaves, and runestones are integral to the equations.
… aaaaand she spilled soup all over the carpet just now. Anyone else, I woulda helped clean up - accidents happen. For this one, I chirped “There are paper towels in the breakroom!” over the sound of me typing away. Maybe I’m a bad person. Maybe I’m PMSing. Maybe I’m being an uncharitable crankypants.
That’s my point. I mean, it would be like saying that “shitrag” isn’t an insult because people would wipe it all over their asses.
Except that prescriptions also apply to glasses.
My WAG has to do with the fact that having the wrong perscription can probably screw things up (even a misaligned pair will give you one hell of a headache).
Speaking personally, I’d argue harder about a 19/20 than a 15/20. Being just one point shy of perfection is frustrating as hell.
Thank you, thank you! I’m sure you all greeted my wall-of-text with childlike glee. 
I was busy at work and then visiting the boyfriend over a long holiday weekend.
The idea of woodchips anywhere near my cooter makes me wince.
Maybe dumb bitches need to solve their own fucking problems. Other people doing stuff for her “to be nice” is how she ended up being so goddamn incompetent in the first place.
Would you do it if I’d given you a couple of paragraphs of feedback that explained exactly WHY you lost that point? 'cause if so…really? A couple of paragraphs of feedback isn’t enough?
Oh, no, that’s just nuts. Unless I thought I had a solid case for why I should have gotten credit, obviously.
Boy, do you make a good point. (I should hire you to follow me around all day and tell me stuff like that - I need to hear it more.)
Just imagine a tall woman looking angry and growling “I fucking hate people” and you’ll save yourself a tidy sum.
I’m going to go to Ralphs, load up on groceries, then tell them I forgot my money and can I pay them later. Then I’m going to a gas station, fill up my tank, and tell them the same thing. Obviously it’s not important to pay people for the services they provide. Just take what you need and fuck everyone else.
I’m motherfucking tired of these motherfucking Tea Partying Republicans in the House who are trying to cripple the government and fuck up the nation with their crazy legislation.
I got a lid for my water glass just because of my pain in the ass cats - one in particular who goes out of her way to drink out of my glass.
And once they fuck up YOUR nation, they’ll take down the rest of us who have no say in any of this.
I hate dial up!! :mad::mad:
That’s all.
Do you think you could explain it to the agent who called me yesterday? I was in a bad mood, so instead of politely putting up with him, I pointed out that his agency is about the only one who still calls every time, rather than work mostly through email. “Oh, but the phone is so much nicer!” “I actually happen to prefer email, and it’s a bad time,” (which he hadn’t asked) “so please email me, thanks.” “When would it be a good time to call again?” “It will not, not today: please email.”
He hasn’t emailed, but damn I’m not sorry to have missed whatever wonnnnnderful opportunity he was calling about. If there was such a thing as hemorroids of the mouth, I’d wish them upon these people who can’t grasp the concept of “dude, do NOT call.” They know perfectly well I’m currently in a project, too, and the last time this same agency contacted me they were just on a fishing expedition… I’m not a hound! (And yes, I know that’s a mixed metaphor - he probably wouldn’t recognize one if it chewed off his ass)
So apparently I grind my teeth at night. A lot. Apparently I secretly hate my teeth, and would subconsciously like to destroy them. But, I have foiled my subconscious plan by acquiring a retainer-type thing from the dentist to wear at night. Problem solved.
Until yesterday. When the retainer-thing somehow disappeared in the bathroom. What the hell happened to it? It’s a small bathroom, the options are limited. I’ve looked everywhere, and I’ve come to the conclusion that it somehow went down the toilet. Seriously, it’s the only thing that makes any kind of sense. I don’t really know how it happened though.
So, now I am back to grinding my teeth at night and I really need to call the dentist to get another one made, which I can’t remotely afford, but neither can I afford broken teeth. And I’m so incredibly annoyed with myself for being so careless as to literally flush something valuable down the shitter. And this morning I woke up with a headache. Grrr.
If you have cats, then question the cats, because they are behind it. Also, check their little kitty mouths, because they might have decided that they need that retainer more than you do.
If you don’t have any cats in residence, check for broken windows, some strays might have gotten in and done the mischief.
Go ahead, ASK me how my cats have been (mis)behaving lately!
When you get done with Nava’s agent, try teaching our client services supervisor. She cannot retrieve anything from her email inbox unless it’s still actually on the screen.
This has been my favorite mental image of the morning. Thank you.
An update: she has successfully mastered the concept of MSN Messenger, meaning she sent me a test message and I responded. I have also completed Lesson Number Two: how to use Cntrl V, Cntrl C, Cntrl X, and the great mystery of them all, Cntrl A.
I know not every last person on the planet knows this stuff, but … you applied for a job updating websites. You had to have known that some reasonable computer skills would be involved, skills beyond simple data entry or checking your Yahoo account.
Manager, I like you and all, but next time, ask the candidate if they know what this means:
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If they stare blankly, just … move on to the next candidate, m’kay? It would help a lot.