I truly hope for a Marva-less day.
Let me explain:
I work at H&R Block, answering email overnight (so if you send email to H&R Block, you’ve got a 25% chance of me answering it). I have three co-workers, a middle aged man and woman, and an elderly woman, the elderly woman being named Marva.
Hair that is purple, with two inch salt and pepper roots, does not suit the elderly.
When I’m 65, with children and grandchildren, I wish to own a car. I do pray that after living 65 years of my life, I will be able to afford a ten year old economy car that can drive me the two miles to work and back each day.
For some reason, though, a car is not part of miss Marva’s repertoir, so she deals dirty on her co-workers. Somehow, magically arriving at work every day, Marva waits until after a person has clocked out and is leaving to complain how she doesn’t have a ride home, and if you can possibly spare her a ride, it’s just up the road a bit, I hope it’s no bother. ::sigh::
My main gripe isn’t the abhorrent purple hair, or the need for a ride every night (thankfully, it’s usually not me she asks), it’s that she has no potential to learn.
“Now, Tim, what do I do with this email?”
At this point, you can hear the muscle fibers tear behind my eyes as they slowly, painfully roll around the socket.
::sigh:: “Marva, as with all the emails referring to the online product, you forward it to e-solutions.”
“Now, Tim, how do I do that?”
Fearing my eyes being suspended solely by the optical nerve, I clench my eyelids tightly, and with gritted teeth, respond nicely.
“Marva, you forward it exactly the same as you’ve forwarded all the other emails tonight and before ::detailed description of forwarding email::”
A few moments later,
“Now, Tim, what do I do with this email?”
“Marva, it’s a ‘need more info’ email. Deal with it the same way we always do.”
“Oh! Okay. Wait, how do I do that?”
My teeth, at this point, are being ground to a nub.
Ten minutes later or so,
“Now, Tim, what do I do with this one about the refund?”
::audible sigh:: “Marva, you attach the office to it, and then reply with the ‘sorry we fucked up’ reply.”
“Now, Tim, I wish you wouldn’t talk like that. Now, how do I attach the office again?”
::groan:: “The same way we were taught to attach an office, the same way we’ve ALWAYS attached offices ::detailed explaination::”
“Tim, I can’t find that button.”
“It’s the second from the left, third row. Says ::button description:: right on it. Yellow and brown.”
“Now, I don’t see that one.”
::Gets up and comes over:: “Right HERE.”
“OH! There it is! Thank you!”
After standing behind dear Marva, hands clenched in claws, breath heaving, for twenty minutes or so, I stalk back to my chair and quietly hyperventilate until I pass out.
Being stupid is one thing. But being non-productive is another. After spending fifteen minutes scrutinizing a single email, and twenty deciding what to do with it, and another fifteen actually doing it, Marva realizes she’s wasted nearly an hour on her single email, while I’ve already done twenty or so. It is not unusual for me to forward fifty or so emails, and reply to twenty, while she finishes three or four, and forwards ten or so.
SWEET FUCKING MOTHER OF GOD WHAT IN THE HOLY FUCKING HELL TAKES YOU SO GODDAMN LONG, WOMAN!
Thankfully, she’s sure to be cut next month or so after review.
–Tim
