If there ever was a Sign From God…
Is it too late to add a couple of mild work related ones?
People who believe that Microsoft Word is the default application for EVERYTHING. I get images all the time from customers with the ubiquitous .DOC file extension. Ever hear of JPG?? or GIF?? I get plain unformatted text files in Word format too. At work they keep the price lists on Word, so when pricing needs to be adjusted a couple of percentage points, our 'puter expert sits down with a calculator and spends an hour or so making the adjustments (She spends a lot of that time adding and removing spaces so that the columns will more or less line up).
People who give out their only copy of an important file. One of my jobs is to turn raster artwork into vector format. The customer will drop off their artwork on floppy or CD. Once the job is done, the customer will sometimes come back to pick up the disk – not because the actual disk is so valuable, but because they need the original artwork back. :smack:
Customers who complain that the image I emailed them to approve is the wrong size. I usually email a JPG to the customer since I know they’ll be able to open it. The number one complaint I get is “IT’S THE WRONG SIZE!” Listen idiot, unless you remember telling me what size monitor you have and what resolution you’re running, you’ll just have to trust me it’s really the size I say it is.
Bad Software. The $12,000 specialty software I use is HORRIBLE. On some dialogs, there is no difference between clicking on OK or Cancel – either way, the changes takes affect. You can’t save files more than three or four levels deep into the file system, or it will add three dots to the middle of the path, and report that the “path doesn’t exist”. Object colors on the screen don’t update unless you manually click on the the menu and select “Update”. Divide by zero errors. The list goes on. Even after the third service pack, the most egregious problems haven’t gone away.
One final non-work related one. SHOVE THAT CAR ALARM UP YOUR ASS. Thank you.
Sorry, but that’s hilarious! Some coder must’ve made a special effort to save his Str64’s, or whatever, from overflowing. What an idiot!
That is just so wrong, on so many levels…
Indeed. I understand when I’m working I get paid by the hour, but I don’t like wasting my time when I don’t have to regardless.
You need to get ass-fucked with a poisonwood tree. Right now.
Rhizomes. I pit the fucking rhizomes. Nuclear war survivor candidates–fuck the cockaroaches, it’s gonna be the nasty ass rhizomes of that gawdawful grass that grows rampant all over my yard. I went after it last year with a 13HP rototiller from hell and the damned grass nearly broke the gigantic blades, it took a day to grub up a 20 x 10 foot garden patch, I fought with that damned grass trying to keep it from taking over the bean patch and the corn patch, it’s been maybe six months since I put the garden to bed for the winter and the damned grass is back like it never left and the rhizomes are eight inches deep! The stuff makes papyrus reeds look wimpy, I had pumpkin vines (with pumpkins attached, mind you!) twining up individual blades of the stuff, you can run it over with a six HP Briggs & Stratton mower five or six times then go after it with a metal bladed weed whacker and there will STILL be blades that pop right back upright the next day, but it’s the rhizomes that drive me insane. These things are so long, thick and tough that if they were penises Enzyte Bob would be crying that he could never have them no matter how many pills he shoves down his turkey neck. I pulled a pile three feet square and a foot deep of rhizomes (and I shook the dirt out, because that’s MY damned garden dirt and I’m keeping it!) out of a four by six foot patch of garden! It’s not fair! If I could find some way to eat the stuff I could feed the world but there’s no way in hell anyone’s gonna eat that nasty tough shit.
While I’m at it, dandelions, thistles and bindweed can all suck a hairy dick too.
I garden because I love it, can’t you tell?
Fucking rhizomes…
It’s only 70 degrees or so today, and I feel like I’m roasting. It’s still spring!
Why couldn’t winter have lasted longer here? I hate summer. Hate it! I have to go work outside in this shit, too. Fuckin’ sunshine. I need to get a night-shift job or something.
you with the face -
I say hello when I answer. Why is this?
One, because it’s polite. Two, because I have no idea who is actually going to be on the other side of the phone. Just because my friends’ phone is being used doesn’t necessarily mean that they are the ones using it. Perhaps a mutual friend left their phone at home or lost it and asked to use theirs? Maybe one of my friends’ husband is calling me from her phone, asking if they can swing by and pick up a video game they lent us. I’ve had this happen often enough that it seems stupid to answer to a person when they might not actually be there.
Just sayin’.
~Tasha
I really, really wish people wouldn’t smoke on the bus. Also, isn’t smoking un-Islamic, Ms. hijab-wearing-bus-smoker?
Gah! That’s almost as bad as my workplace! Need a database of client addresses? MS Word to the RESCUE! Seriously, hundreds upon hundreds of pages of Word tables, sorted in order of “we’re lazy assholes and just lump new shit onto the end”. Just opening the file causes my computer to chunk out for a few minutes.
Oh, but it gets better. For client phone numbers and e-mail addresses, there’s a separate system, not of one ungodly gargantuan Word file, but of hundreds upon hundreds of little ones! Each tagged with some incomprehensible shorthand filename! Each containing a single fucking phone and fax number! And they’re all Word TEMPLATES, for some unknown reason! Oh, and this is also the only place where the client’s VAT number (essentially tax ID no., for non-Euro dopers) is stored, because… uh… WTF?
I thank Og every day that I have little to nothing to do with this company’s accounts, because if I did I think I would have to shoot myself. I’m pretty sure they’ve never used Excel as anything more than a funky formatting aid.
Oh yeah, and the storing images as .doc files too. WHY? And sending company e-mails as .doc files with the e-mail text saying “Our letter is attached”. WHY?!? YOU FUCKING DOUCHE, GET OVER YOUR FUCKING WORD FETISH AND JUST SEND A NORMAL GODDAMN E-MAIL!!
breathes Ok. I don’t think a mini rant is gonna cover it all. I need a new fucking job.
Along with Twickster’s Unshakeable Prejudices of ** All Hummer Drivers are Assholes** earphone people are as well.
I just want to say to shout after them, " Who the hell do you think you are? Jack Bauer? "
I still want to shout after every jogger I ever see something that my best friend from childhoods dad use to shout at joggers ( when it was a new craze)" If you got some much energy Come paint my Garage!" RIP Mr. Tisko.
**Mini Rant **
A gentle note to the Megamart in which I am employed 15 hours a week.
Someone of reasonable brains and wherewithall needs to be hired to do the donuts and bread in the morning. When you hire in someone who is Mentally Challenged and has to have a helper for his first two weeks to get him adjusted to his life outside of Shangri-la Group Home that should be your first indication that this poor creature probably is not retail bakery material. Put him in as a greeter or toilet scrubber. Let him gather carts or empty garbage.
Putting him in the department that is the glue that holds the entire freaking store together is probably a Bad Idea. Especially as a key player as donuts. God forbid our locals don’t get their fat laden carbs every fucking morning.
We are not even a true Honest to God bakery, either. Nothing is mixed there. It comes in frozen. We are a fucking thawery.
He was not a Time to Make the Donuts Guy. He wasn’t a Time to defrost and glaze the frozen donuts guy. He was just Michael.
The poor guy was so critically introverted he never made eye contact with anyone. He was also very slow in doing his duties. He did his job well, but it should not take 6 hours to do a job that is about 45 minutes.
It also does not help the moral of your employees that you do have that do not have neck tattooes, do not speak in triple negatives or wear a mullet of any kind to know that at any given time they are replaceable. This, they are aware of. It is retail. Retail: Where we shit on our employees to bring you lower prices! But to be replaced by a mentally challenged person is a kick to the nads.
Our fair shy MCP quit after two weeks. It was too stressful and he hadn’t even gotten to donut stuff.
Giving all of us a 5 way tie on winning the How Long Will He Last? pool.
We already suffer greatly because of S. Our full time MCP who shows up a hour late, promptly takes a lunch and then wanders the store for the rest of day until a manager points him back to the deli where he needs to be and then he decides to punch out early ( after taking a lunch and more wandering and a few incomprehensible intercommings from him.)
Furthermore, holding a Job Fair on a Monday afternoon brought out all the group home people. Every freakin’ one that walked passed our department was straight out of either Mom’s basement or Shangri La Group Home.
I’m curious, Is this the quality of staff you wish to irritate your customers or your good employees?
Both - it’s a two-fer.
I’m all for mentally-challenged people working to the capacity they are capable, but putting them in positions beyond their capabilities isn’t good for anyone. It all ends in crying and recriminations.
I just slammed my fucking pinky in between two drawers as I concluded my fruitless search for a particular item of clothing. Now not only do I not have that very cute hat, but my pinky FUCKING HURTS. :mad:
Do you know what that irritatingly loud music is doing to the foundation of your car and hearing?
Is it gonna get a black spot? That’s a huge drag.
Mini-rant: Had the taxes done today and I have to cut a check AGAIN. To people who don’t spend it well AGAIN. Sigh…
Medical costs, 2006: couple of grand
Amount of this refunded on taxes: about $70.
Well, my relationship might crash and burn tonight. We shall see.
I sent him a message today saying basically (but much more tactfully): You’ve got 'til the end of the year, or I’m walking. Three years and we still live in different states, babe… this isn’t going to work.
I’m trying to think of it as Stating My Boundaries and sticking to them, rather than a big looming Ultimatum (complete with ominous music).
I just can’t do this anymore. I’m tired of being alone.
This stinks. I need to go hug my cat.
I drove way the hell across town, in Vegas traffic (which is worth a rant in itself) to buy lightweight, casual, no-iron shirts for work. The excursion seemed to be going well (except for all the cars driven by monkeys with ADD on roads designed by crack-addled ferrets), what with finding that Express had plain, lightweight, cute T-shirts on sale. I thought I was too old & chubby for Express, and I am, except for their Tshirts – fitted, light, narrow collar bands, no graphics, lots of colors, cheap. Works for me.
Until I got home – clear the hell across town – and discovered one of those anti-theft doohickies still attached to the hem of the pink one. Now I have to drive way the hell across town, AGAIN, to make them to take it off. It didn’t make anything beep when I left the store, but I’ll bet the damn exploding dye part works just right.
Don’t think so. But it’s still swollen and painful hours later. Note to self: move fingers, then slam things closed.