Oh, I’m sure they were quite aware of your status. Back when I was a TA, I wouldn’t have been surprised at all if they made me clean up puke. I used to joke about them using us as firewood during cold snaps.
You know, it’s even worse when they ask you over the phone.
We have people calling the Switchboard and saying, “You just transferred me to mMedical Records and no one answered. Are they at lunch?”
Well, dumbass, it is 12:30pm so it’s possible but seeing as how I left my x-ray vision glasses at home and without them I can’t see into an office on another floor, I’m afraid I don’t know."
I’d say yes, you have read too much Onion, but if it makes you feel any better, you aren’t the only to have that thought about how much Accountz Reeceevable rulz! 
I too am faced with a daily barrage of “Where’s so-and-so”. I sit in a secluded end of our building, near the offices of three VP’s. Whenever they’re not in their office, I’m asked where they are. I always say “They don’t check with me before they leave, sorry.” But I would love to use the line that you suggested, quietman1920. I mean, I’m just the accountant. If I was their assistant that would be one thing … generally, VP’s don’t tell the accoutant when they’re going to a meeting.
Accountz Payable bitches be messin’ with da Korn Dog. Beware tha letter opener o’ death! 
I’ve always wondered what Dutch gangsta speech would be like. Now I know.
I was the techie at my old job (I’m still the techie at my new job but we’re not talking about that right now.) Anyway, I was expected to fix everything just because I was the only one who knew how to handle the computers–hun?
So I fixed the photocopier, repaired the fax machine and would even troubleshoot the postal meter. I finally drew the line when they asked me to fix the fricken microwave! I put up a notice on my desk that read, “just because it plugs in doesn’t make it mine.” Things calmed down a little bit after that.
Years ago when I worked in cubicleville, my group moved into a new area and we were allowed to select our cubes.
At first my peers couldn’t understand why I picked an inned cube with no window at the end of a short hall when, according to my title and position, I was entitled to (yes, that’s correct, they had rules about these things) an outer cube with a window.
Well, during the 2 years I think I got less than a dozen “do you know where” inquiries. And I was still within earshot of the bosses office (to monitor his coming and going so I could plan my own). Ah, cubicle heaven (relatively speaking)! Definitely worth the lack of a window - especially when I spent most of my day starting at a CRT anyway.
Uh,…make the INNER cube. :smack:
I just had it happen again! Some lady came up, looked in her office, and then looked over at me with a big, heavy sigh (since Cheryl not being in her office is ruining her day obviously). I think she was about to ask me where she was, but I had my headphones on and “didn’t notice her.”
I have no problem being friendly and helpful. Thing is, her office is right next to mine. Unless she walks in front of my door, which she hardly ever does, I don’t even know she’s not in her office.
Incidentally, anyone have a link to that Onion article you all are talking about?
My standard response : “She is not my child”
LA I would seriously consider putting up a sign “No I do Not know where Cheryl is”
My pat response is, “He broke his leg and we had to shoot him.” I sit right by one of four doors that open to our floor. I get this kind of thing all the time, but usually people asking where so-and-so sits. Half the time I don’t even know the person they are looking for! I’m always polite, though. I only use the above sarcasm when it is somebody I know well.
A couple of months, my cubicle was moved across the building, to a location right in front of the office (you know, tall walls and a door) of a regional manager who travels a lot.
So last week, I hear a voice behind me saying…
“We moved Doebi over here. Doebi, you’re in charge of keeping track of Manager X now, aren’t you?”
Being a wiseass, I said, not turning around “Nope, sorry. They don’t pay me enough for that.”
I turned around, to find that the person that had just been escorted to my new desk was the VP in charge of my division (3 levels above me in the company), in from out of town. :smack:
I don’t think the nervous laugh I let out was enough to convince him.
I telecommute. Simple really-- if I’m in the office, my partner is at home (and vice versa). It’s not a new concept in my office and almost 50% of the division are telecommuters.
Yet everyday, without fail:
“You’re not Chris”
“Chris not in today?”
“Oh. It’s you. I was hoping Chris was in”
“Will Chris be in tomorrow?”
“Is Chris at home?”
GGGGGAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
Even though we now have put up a nifty wipe board detailing when we are in/out, etc, I STILL get these questions.
My standard reply is “You just did.”
I wait for the look that lets me know they’ve figured it out and they start again. It’s good for a laugh
Oh Lord in Heaven, I get this SO many times a day. My manager’s cube is next to mine and he is the lynchpin to the IT dept. He’s at his desk about 50% of the time (maybe), the rest, he’s either in the data center or in a meeting. When he’s gone, I get the “Where’s Waldo Parade”. Because I work for him it is (understanably) assumed that we are in intimate contact, but he doesn’t tell me his every move.
Thing is, we have a paging system and published cell phone numbers and it’s free to talk between our cells. No one uses that method, but walks over here to see he’s really truly not at his desk, then you know what happens next.
I’m thinking about getting an H-dawg Letta Opena o’ Death for myself. Here’s the link about that, btw–great stuff:
http://www.theonion.com/onion3732/true_a_r_bruthas.html
Jeez, it happened again as I was writing this!!
Gah. I had this happen the other day, when the guy who sits next to my cube / pod / cell wasn’t here.
I’m not his wife - everyone KNOWS my husband as he comes in every other week on payday to take me to lunch.
I’m not his f#$%ing keeper, thanks - he’s old enough to be my dad and if he can’t be allowed out without a damn keeper then maybe we don’t want him designing car parts, hmmmm?
He doesn’t even LIVE near me, I don’t commute with him, the ONLY fucking time I see him is AT WORK. Just like everyone else.
So what happens? Co-worker walks right past the boss (you know, the guy that would actually know where Absent Co-Worker was? That guy? Remember him?). This was, evidently, to interrupt me right in the middle of a data transfer that I’d been trying to make work for over half an hour and required large amounts of concentration, so that he could ask me where Absent Guy was.
I don’t know! Ask the Boss! The guy who gets PAID TO KNOW THESE THINGS! I’m not his fucking keeper, his wife, or his roommate! Why in the name of God’s Hemmorhoids would he notify me if he’s calling in sick?
Ah, hell, that’s nothing.
The Grand Poobah at my job would come by my desk and ask if I knew where any number of people who sat in my general side of the frickin’ building were.
And then if I didn’t he would just stand there and gaze at me and then I would know that he expected ME to get up and go LOOK for them.
Because lawd knows I don’t have shit to do, right???
“I killed her for asking me too many annoying questions. Is there something I can help you with?”
Here’s a plan: figure out a number of locations that XXXXX might be at that are:
- plausible
- not readily checked by telephone
- that are at the maximum walking distance from wherever you are.
From then on, whenever someone asks you where XXXX is say “I think s/he is down in archives” or up in the sixth floor conference room/at the motor pool/whatever. And add right away “but I don’t know when s/he’ll be back.”
Let annoying questioner traipse all the way to wherever…heck, it’s possible that questioner will happen to run in XXX on the way. If they come back and complain that X wasn’t there, say “Sorry, did I say down in archives? I guess I got confused. I meant at the motor pool.”
After a few rounds of wild goose chase, they’ll stop asking you, believe me.