Office Supply Thieves and the Catastrophe Cascade

The BBQ Pit
1

OK, hang with me. It starts kind of slow and builds up steam.

At work we have these quarterly meetings that require oodles of information to be bundled into thick pressboard binders and sent to bunches of people. This is a huge production on a tight schedule. Two weeks ago, a co-worker and I went into our supply room, got the footladder, looked waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay up on the very top shelf where we stash these pressboard binders and made sure we had 150+, because we need at least 120 for this project.

Today, with copy machines roaring and minions sorting in the background, we went to the supply room to get the binders.

They were all gone

Yep, all but 5 left lonely in the bottom of a box. Some fucking THIEF had snuck in and STOLEN them!!! Not a “please may I?” Not a note, not fucking ANYTHING! And who the hell needs that many binders? (Other than us?)

Great, just fucking great. This has to go out the door TODAY. Not tomorrow, TODAY, fucking screaming urgent Federal Express. Our joke of a office supply ordering system won’t deliver before tomorrow. The bitch in charge of corporate purchasing won’t make an exception (“You should have thought ahead” - yeah, well, we fucking DID you bitch. Figures I’d have to ask a Muslim for something during Ramadan when this hag is hungry and pissed off. Maybe I’ll eat my goddamned lunch in front of you, asshole)

A hurried treasure hunt ensued. This isn’t a matter of borrowing a dozen of something off a co-worker - we need 120 of this fuckers. Well, lo and behold! A coworker has 100 stashed beneath her desk.

OK, I took 'em. I confess. But she wasn’t in the office yet, we were desparate, AND I left a note explaining, offering assistance on her project, and immediately ordered replacements for her which will probably (oh, God, I hope I hope) arrive tomorrow. Even if I happen to consider her a prime suspect in the theft of MY BINDERS.

Well, I’m running around all morning, approving proofs of printed matter, checking addresses, scrouging up shipping containers, and so forth. THEN the co-worker I borrowed from shows up and I am suddenly reminded that she’s the one that can’t handle stress or any break in the routine. No joke - they moved her from one side of the floor to the other and she had a fucking stroke, she was so stressed out. I am not kidding. She wants reassurance her binders will be there tomorrow. I reassure her. I show her the fucking order. I show her the fucking order confirmation.

“But what if the truck doesn’t come–?”

THEN I WILL PERSONALLY GO OUT TO THE NEAREST OFFICE SUPPLY STORE AND BUY YOU YOUR GODDAMNED PRESSBOARD BINDERS - OK?

Alright, I was a little more diplomatic than that. She goes away. An hour later she comes back, wanting more reassurance. Now she’s worried I won’t really buy her stupid shitty little pressboard binders. I show her my goddamned credit card. She goes away.

The copy service that is doing half the project because in-house team are fuck-ups and ran out of time and machinery calls to say everything will be late due to X, Y, and Z.

My pestilential co-worker from hell comes back “I’m not sure company policy will let you buy office supplies --”. I tell her to take it up with the Executive Director. I know the ED, I know the ED will pay for the stupid fucking shitty little pissy pressboard binders because she is a woman of honor and integrity (unlike some of my associates). Ms Stress says she can’t because the ED is working from home today. I write out the ED’s home office number and tell her to call and ask.

“Oh, I can’t call her at home --”

WELL, THEN, I GUESS YOU’RE SHIT OUT OF LUCK, AREN’T YOU, YOU FUCKING COWARD?

Alright, I didn’t say it, I thought it. I wanted to say it.

I get her to go away. I convince another co-worker to stay late and help me get this fucking project out the door. I have checked all the addresses. I am playing the computer keyboard like Liberace on speed to get all these fucking addresses through the Fed Ex software and get shipping labels printed when my FUCKING COMPUTER CRASHES!!!

I am rebooting when I hear “Are you sure my binders will be here tomorr-”

YES! YES! YES! NOW GO AWAY!

I get the goddamn shipping labels printed. I take one set of fucking binders, the goddamned labels, and shitload of FedEx monster tyvek envelopes, dump them into a cart, and start off to the off-site copy shop

Ms. Stress shows up “You should get a man to do that, you’ll hurt yourself pushing that.”

I just know there was steam coming out of my ears. The cart couldn’t have weighed more than, oh, 300lbs. I spend the weekends pushing around 2100lb airplanes. By myself. My co-worker-in-crime, the one staying late to help, who just happens to be a man and knows me pretty well, decided to take a coffee break until after the explosion. I’m thinking evil thoughts, like, if I can induce a stroke in this bitch she’ll be out for at least another 3 months like last time and —

and unfortunately I have to get this shit out the door so I ignore her, collect the benign co-worker, and we get down to the copy shop.

This is not a happy place of business. The owner has taken off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Yes, he is most definitely trying to do his part. The atmosphere is tense, however, because someone in the shop has fucked up. Granted, I am only the little secretary, but I not only control the account for my department vis-a-vis there happy little universe but I also got two other businesses to frequent their little shop so no, the owner does NOT want me pissed off. Which I am.

We get the second binder done (everybody gets two). We are ready to pack and — the monster envelopes aren’t monster enough. OH FUCK. Mad hunt for larger container ensues.

I succeed. Then I realize I only have 6 of the fuckers. So I go to the supply closet. The only box of these I find is marked… as belonging to Ms. Stress. Who has gone home for the day. And it’s too fucking late to order new ones for her. I have already missed two commuter trains. There are not many left in the day. Oh, hell, I take the goddamned Godzilla-sized tyvek envelopes and they are just barely big enough.

We pack. We peel FedEx labels off one set of envelopes and slap them on another. The copy shop employees are scuttling out the door.

We come up short four binders

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!

The owner is running around switching machinery back on. People are swearing. People are jumping up and down. I have sweat running down my forehead.

I take a deep breath. I remind myself that it is not an emergency unless my hair is on fire. I check my hair. It is not combusting. Therefore, we are not having an emergency.

We get our final four. We drop all this shit off at FedEx. We run for our trains to take us home.

I can’t wait for tomorrow because I just KNOW those fucking stupid shitty pissy goddamed pressboard binders are going to get lost in transit, ya know? And fucking Ms Stress is going to be in my hair all goddamned day.

2

So, be sure to tell us tomorrow who lived and who died. We’re taking bets here . . . :slight_smile:

Sorry to hear about your incredibly shitty day. Great rant, though.

3

I think I have your solution.

When the stroke prone women comes asking for her binders, simply say that you returned them under her desk.

Watch the fun.

4

I’m sorry you had such a shitty day, but this is Art.

5

[Chris Rock] I’m not saying that its right for people to suddenly snap and gun down their coworkers, but I understand it! [/Chris Rock]

I know exactly how you feel. My last job was that kind of nutshow, only I didn’t have a boss who was honest and who would reimburse me for emergency expendatures.

6

A perfect lauch into the routine; compulsory moves covered with style and just a little more panache than is usually expected, then an easy segue into a series of difficult movements that seem not only to defy logic but the very laws of physics themselves, and…ohhhh, wait for it,

[crowd noises]SHE PEGS THE DISMOUNT!!![/crowd noises]

What an amazing performance from this plucky, petite Russian! Her handlers are running to meet her now and SHE HASN’T BROKEN A SWEAT! What an AMAZING RANT!!!hold on, here come then scores:

10.0 10.0 10.0 11.0

[crowd cheers out of control]THE GERMAN JUDGE HAS WRITTEN IN A “SPINAL TAP” SCORE!![/crowd cheers out of control]

Amazing rant.

b.

7

Are you sure the binders will arrive tomorrow? What if the truck doesn’t come?

I’m sorry. :wink:

8

9.6, but only because you made a slur about Muslims. Otherwise, the bitch needs to be stuffed into a desk drawer.

Esprix

9

How is that a slur? All she did was point out that the woman is fasting for Ramadan, and so is in a less than spectacular mood. If I couldn’t eat from sunrise to sunset I’d be mighty grumpy too.

10

Wow, so obviously the entire company would grind to a halt and spiral into bankruptcy if these reports were delayed by so much as 24 hours, eh? Given the awesome responsibility resting on your shoulders, I’d say it’s time to start negotiating a hefty raise.

Uh, and anyone can waltz into the supply room and take whatever they want without notifying anyone or signing a requisition form? No wonder the place is screwed up.

11

Oh, wowie, counter-rants already!

OK - the whole Muslim/ramadan thing. If you have ever worked with observant Muslims you know they tend to be cranky during the fast, particuarly towards late afternoon. Heck, I get cranky if I skip lunch - why shouldn’t they? The fast is not supposed to be easy. It isn’t, particularly not the first week while the body is still adjusting to it. And for God’s sake do NOT get between them and microwave and coffe machine when the sun goes down (they know this time to the exact minute, and start lining up in the break room because they are hungry and thirsty).

And NO, the entire company is not going to grind to a halt or go bankrupt. But 80 people have set aside this day about six months in advance, some will be traveling thousands of miles to attend this one day meeting, and they need to review the materials before they show up - all 1200 pages worth. There are deadlines. If we miss the deadlines people very powerful in the hierarchy will be pissed off. It is not in my interest to allow that to happen.

And for the record - I do negotiate a hefty raise at every opportunity. I am paid damn well for what I do. That in no way makes yesterday and less hectic.

As for the supplies - these supplies were bought and reserved SPECIFICALLY for this project. They were in boxes labeled as to what they were for. There were names and phones extensions prominently displayed on said boxes, and directions to ask these people BEFORE using. They were 9 feet off the ground, on a difficult to reach shelf. Nor did they dribble away over several months but disappeared in less than a fucking week!

And now for today’s update:

Well, the morning wasn’t too bad,expect, as expected, Ms. Stress was making frequent visits. But, sure enough, all hell started to break loose around 2pm.

The off-site copy shop called to say they were out of binders needed to complete my order. I told them to hang tight, because the supply truck was due any minute.

Then the delivery guy showed up and delivered a too-small carton. He assured me that was all there was. I looked at the order confirmation. It said 230 binders. That box was just too small. There was no mention of back orders.

Oh, well, I opened the box. There were FIFTY of the fuckers in there. Just FIFTY. That was IT. I owed Ms. Stress 100 binders, neede more on top of that, and there were only FIFTY…

Just then, Ms. Stress shows up. She asks if those are her binders. I say yes, hoping I can somehow come up with 50 more. Somewhere. Somehow.

She starts to take the boxes. She draws back in horror. No fucking joke, she cringes. “Oh, no, I can’t use those! They’re BLACK! I need BLUE binders. Those are BLACK!”

The veneer of calm I have been cultivating all morning has suddenly burned away. Who the FUCK cares what color these things are? They’re binders, right? They hold paper, right?

“Well, you’re right, my people probably wouldn’t care about the color, but it just wouldn’t be right…”

Oh, now I’m really starting to boil over. I tell her I’ll get back to her. I almost have to boot her in the ass to get her gone, but she does leave. I call customer service. I attempt to explain in a nice, calm voice, that the packing list claims this shipment is composed of THREE boxes with TWO HUNDRED THIRTY DARK BLUE PRESSBOARD BINDERS. I am looking at ONE box with FIFTY BLACK PRESSBOARD BINDERS. It has been one box with 50 black every time I have looked at it. No, I don’t think taking another look will change anything.

Ms Stress has returned and is fucking HOVERING in my goddamned cubicle while I am trying to talk on the phone.

Mr. Customer Service says, yes, he shows my order, but most of the binders are on back order, but they are blue binders.

No, I say, these are most definiately black binders.

Well, maybe the box says they’re black but they’re really blue?

No, they really ARE black. Very very black. I pull Ms Stress over “are these black?” “YES, THEY’RE BLACK. I HAVE TO HAVE BLUE. CAN I GET --”

I shove Ms Stress away so I can get back to Mr. Customer Service. “Well, when can I GET these back ordered blue binders?”

“Next Thursday.”

I must have been breathing in an angry manner because he starts to sound very apologetic. “Do you want to cancel your order?”

“NO I WANT MY BINDERS NOW!”

Of course, there is nothing Mr. Customer Service can do. Except apologize. Profusely. Ms. Stress is still hovering, having FITS over this. I hang up. I tell her to go away and let me think.

My other co-worker shows up - he’s scored 50 blue binders. YES! We gave them to Ms. Stress who confesses that, yes, she can survive with 50 blue binders. Of course, they aren’t the RIGHT color of blue, but –

Aw, to hell with her.

That’s about when I get the call from FedEx. It seems there is a problem with some of yesterday’s packages. Oh, fuck. I now have to double check 39 tracking numbers. While doing so, we discover two packages have totally dropped off the face of the earth, in addition to the gentleman who moved with telling anyone and the one destined for Maryland that was sent by way of Oregon (we’re so sorry - we can get it there Tuesday is that soon enough? FUCK NO - why the HELL would I send it OVERNIGHT on THURSDAY if Tuesday was OK?)

This is a new customer service person who keeps telling me “maybe the people who sent it out lost a shipping label or two?” How many FUCKING times do I have to repeat “Three people packed and double-checked each package was correct. There were 39 packages. I personlly saw them delivered to YOUR branch office. I personally help pass 39 to YOUR employees. YOU only have records of 37. I don’t think the probablem was on my side of the counter” before the dude gets it? About 14.

Oh, then we get the “what is the address of the branch office”, like I am making this shit up out of whole cloth. Then “how far is it from your office”. It’s in fucking lobby of the same goddamned building you mental deficient. THEN we have the problem of “how can your building have 2 different street addresses?” Becuase it’s a fucking big building, asshole, we have a lot of them in Chicago. In fact, the building has THREE street numbers attacted to it but I didn’t want to complicate his life any further by pointing this out.

That’s when my boss shows up. She wants to know how the project is going. Did everything arrive safely?

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!

I dunno, maybe my expression tipped her off? I said there were a few problems, but I was talking to Fed Ex customer service. She wandered off somewhere else.

Anyhow, had to ship three replacements for fucking screaming urgent first thing delivery on Monday morning (and I just KNOW these folks are going to bitch but what can I do?)

Of course, that’s just with the one project. Nevermind all the other shit I deal with in a normal day:

The fellow upset because United changed his flight numbers - be fucking glad they’re still flying at all

The delivery man dropping off presenation slides who got lost, managed to attract the attention of security who almost had him arrested, and I had to go to security, vouch for him, assure everyone the package didn’t contain anthrax or C4 or whatever the hell people are worked up about this week, and escort him to the outside entrance.

The contract department called, apparently we are missing a page in a 47 page contract. Oh, skippy. The woman is another Muslim fasting for ramadan, it is 3 pm, and she is hungry, thirsty, and bitchy. She wants it NOW, if not yesterday.

Six people calling at 8:30 am demanding to know why their packages for the meeting haven’t arrived yet. Told them FedEx does not have to deliver until 2pm. “2pm Eastern?” says the guy in San Francisco - no, fuckwad, 2pm local time. Who the FUCK is in the office at 6:30 am anyhow?

Well, do you really want to hear about MY day? What the hell - everyone vent.

Oh - and equal time for other religons - yes, it’s annoying that Jews disappear for Yom Kippur, the Orthodox lady down the aisle needs 1) a better wigmaker and 2) is not leaving at 2 pm on every Friday to get home before sundown and the sabbath, but everyone forgets that and shows up late in the day asking me to call her - but Orthodox don’t answer the phone on the sabbath. Even for emergencies. Especially for work “emergencies”. I really love the 3 hour lunch the Catholics take on Ash Wednesday to get gook smeared on their foreheads, and I’m fucking sick about them whining “why don’t we get Good Friday off, why do we have to use a personal day?” Well, cuddles, if the Jews have to do it for Yom Kippur and the Muslims for the last day of Ramadan - gues what

Oh - and those PAGANS! Don’t get me started!

12

Hey, I like my pegan holidays…

What the hell else am I supposed to use when I’ve already used food poisoning as an excuse for the 50th time.

13

Bravo! Broomstick you’re two for two in the same thread! Go out, get drunk, and repeat until late Sunday night. You’ll feel better, trust me.

14

If I could personally mix you a double “smoky” Martini, I would. (You’ll have to settle for a virtual one.)

Instead, I shall do what no one else has done in this thread. Namely, praise you for your professional commitment. Your monumental efforts cannot be allowed to go unnoticed. I am hoping that you routinely receive double digit percentage raises in pay. You certainly earn them, if only on this one particular occasion each year (or quarter). If you can, please reveal the nature of the +1,000 page presentation you send out. If your building consumes three different addresses, I can only guess that you work for a multinational conglomerate.

Again, hats off to you for your attention to detail. It is certainly impressive. For that reason alone you deserve a 10.0 Rant Rating, although you were certainly entitled to a higher degree of color(ful) commentary. Please feel free to utilize more strange and unusual attributions when describing your cow-orkers in the future.

I strongly recommend that in the future you feel less restraint when tempted to determine the feasibility of inserting a “not quite blue enough” binder into the rectal cavity of Ms. Stress. The value added aspect of the stroke she would most likely suffer in the process would only be icing on the cake.

15

Broomstick,

if I were an executive, I’d hire you!

P.S. Have you thought of writing a book?

16

Not even if you look really, really hard?

Nice rant, you clearly earn your money.

17

I think you should print out this thread and request that it be added to your personnel file. If nothing else, it’ll be entertaining when somebody discovers it.

18

And talk to your boss about finding a way to keep those fucking blue / black / shit-colored / whatever binders under lock and key so this doesn’t happen again.

I’m amazed at your ability to stay calm in a crisis of such monumental and infantile proportions. That comment, “well, it’s not the right shade of blue,” would have finished me. I would have imploded in a shower of red blood particles. You’re amazing.

[Egon from Ghostbusters]

We’d like to get a sample of your brain tissue.

[/Egon from Ghostbusters]

pesch

19

I believe we got our wires crossed a bit here. I was actually sympathizing with you. My reading of your first post was that these were summary reports of a previous meeting that had just been completed. I apologise if I offended.

I’d still recommend locking up the binders if ata ll possible, though.