Jane jumped the shark today. After sharing her financial problems with us, over and over and over, she went to a big box store and bought a set of cutlery for us.
Nice stainless steel stuff that feels good in the hand.
I’m guessing that she spent almost $120.00 on it. She also was very loud about having to borrow some of my teabags.
I don’t care. I’m leaving. I’m about as Zen as a cat now.
It’s one of the functions of the job, yes. Along with such items as giving candy and pats to good kids, making sure nobody has candy right before lunch and sticking suckers* into the mouths of crying subordinates.
Nava, they are also known as ‘Binkies’
Vorlon Jr. is 16. We are still finding them tucked in odd spots in the house. I think he is part squirrel.
I thought supervisors had to make sure everyone got the same amount of candy and pats or there would be temper tantrums. 
My manager and I interviewed somebody via phone today. Twice my manager asked a technical question that should have been easy for anybody we’d want to hire into this particular position. Cue long pause, and then out of the blue the interviewee starts spouting off a bunch of stuff that was correct in an academic sense but for the most part, not particularly relevant to the real world.
The second time that it happened, I checked the Wikipedia article on the subject from my phone. By astonishing coincidence, the article listed things in the exact same order that the interviewee was.
She won’t be coming in for an in-person interview.
It depends on the children. Some children are less jealous than others.
Children everywhere.
I just got spoken to by my boss because Woman-Child decided I was rude to her after being frustrated she didn’t do the urgent request I gave her until three hours later and only with my and my bosses help. So she went to HR.
She’s like the ultimate tattletale, she’s worked all over the plant and people talk to her and she always takes it to HR, even if people didn’t want things to go there.
So no more phone calls. Every single thing I ask will be email and CCd like most of the rest of my requests.
No wonder I hate the phone.
Dear Two Dudes in the Office Hallway,
The area right in front of the restrooms directly next to a heavily-trafficked blind corner is NOT the place to stand around holding an impromptu meeting. Yes, that’s right, I DID give you each the stink-eye after I nearly smacked into that other lady.
Go fuck yourselves.
Hugs and kisses,
I ordered 100 springs on line 1, and 10 extra on line 2 (intended to be replacements for line 1 – I have faith that a few of them will get fucked up because someone won’t read my procedure regarding what to do with the springs). Our supplier sells these tiny springs in boxes of 10, so I should have 10 boxes (100 springs total) on line 1, and 1 box (10 springs total) on line two. I go out to the warehouse, and I find:
[ul]
[li]One spring in a bag by itself, labeled as line 1, quantity 1[/li][li]Eleven boxes (10 springs/box) in a big bag, labeled as line 2, quantity 10[/li][li]A notation in the computer stating that 10 springs had been received on line 2[/li][li]Another notation in the system indicating that 2 springs had been received on line 1[/li][/ul]
I explained the whole thing to receiving…where they were completely baffled as to how 100 springs could possibly be in 10 boxes. I explained that I had personally counted the springs in each box, and could not account for the extra…and that it also seemed in the system that the quantities received had been mixed up for the two lines. After much back-and-forth, I was finally told to just switch the paperwork. :rolleyes:
And once again I take back all the bitching I’ve done about my job. This kind of thing would make my (otherwise quite servicable) brain hurt.
Jane had a total meltdown today. I made the mistake of telling her that I was not staying home this weekend. The pressure of not having anyone available to call over a long weekend was too much for her and she started crying.
This woman is at least 20 years older than me, and doesn’t have any responsibility for the warehouse at all. I’m pretty sure that she wants my job, but currently, there is no reason for her to cry over this stuff.
I have lots of rants over the ongoing move, but my connection is sketchy. Best to do that tomorrow.
We heard from flatlined!
wait, this is the Pit
Where in the Hades have you been, young lady?
We have been woried about you and…glad you’re alive, my friend, and please PM me your phone number so my heart doesn’t have to go through this again. I’m not getting any younger, you know.
Will you kindly give your connection a kick in the ass for the scare it gave us? And your enter key!
Heh, at least she knows how to look up stuff. Which is more than the average person, these days. However, yeah, you probably want someone who won’t be training herself on the job.
A pitting of your connection is in order.
I actually like my current job. There are many appealing things about it. Appealing to me, because I like to work weekends and have weekdays off, and I’d rather work four days at 10 hours each than five days at 8 hours each.
But working holiday weekends is a bitch.
Memorial Day weekend isn’t as bad as, say, Christmas, but it has it’s moments.
We had the lady who showed up, said she had gotten her shoes fixed X days ago “with the other gal” who works the kiosk and now her shows were broken again. Well, I didn’t see any sign they had ever been repaired before. That’s not definitive, sometimes you can make a perfect repair, but it’s a bit unlikely given the strap repair on sandals she said was done. So I asked her if she had a receipt.
Man, you would have thought I was asking for a kidney!
Because, you know, the other lady knew her and she’s a customer and we were supposed to fix her shoes and who keeps receipts just look her up on our customer database…
OK, this is an issue we have with some people. Shoe repair is not high-tech. I mean, hell, our industrial sewing machine pre-dates electrification. *We don’t have a computer database.
[/quote]
No, we don’t laboriously write your info on our cardboard tickets then later type it into a computer. It’s just the paper/cardboard. No, we don’t actually keep our customer’s information like phone number and what sort of shoe and what sort of repair. We have no reason to do this. Yet people are furious that we don’t 1) instantly recognize every single one of our 1,239,463 customers no matter how long it’s been since they were last in our shop and 2) we don’t have this massive customer database.
Don’t get me started on the folks who get upset we can’t e-mail them (no internet connection at work) or pay with their smart phone.
Then there is White Golf Shoe Guy. He comes in with these white golf shoes (duh!) and wants them stretched. First he’s upset we actually want to keep it on the stretcher for more than 10 minutes (after regaling me stories of how other places don’t stretch 'em enough, but hey, they do 'em in 5 minutes!). I told him we get better results keeping them on for several hours. He can have them back instantly, but we won’t guarantee results with that. OK, he’ll leave 'em overnight. Comes back. First, he is pissed that we don’t have some sort of mechanical, electrically powered device for doing this. Huh. Well, sir, here are your shoes, try them on, make sure everything is OK. So he does, walks around a bit, says everything is OK. I offered him a bag because, ya know, the shoes are white and new and white. No, no, he’ll just carry them out.
OK, great, on to next thing.
He comes back four hours later, with his mother, bitching we’ve “ruined” his shoes. I said “what? What’s wrong?” They’re stained/smudged/wrecked/scuffed/whatever. I look. I said “point this out.” He says what are you, blind? and jabs his finger as this little, teeny-weeny smear of dust. Then a smudge of white of all things on a piece of colored trim. Ruined! The shoes are ruined! They were new, pristine, and now they’re ruined and it’s all your fault!
A quick application of shoe cleaner takes care of all of it. There, clean.
Not good enough. Now he wants his money back for the shoe stretch. I said no, you wanted your shoes stretched, it was done, you said they were fine when you picked them up. No, I said, you are not getting a refund. Nor are we going to “compensate” him for dust on his precious white shoes! He looms over me (he’s easily a foot taller) and says I WILL pay him for these shoes. I looked him in the eye and said no, we will not.
He stomps off in a huff, saying he’ll complain to the manager and I’ll be fired and there’s the better business bureau…
>sigh<
Called the owner of the shop and explained my side of the story, said don’t be surprised if she gets a phone call. She said thanks for the heads up and, by the way, sandal lady already called her. Called her? How did she get the owner’s cell phone number? I certainly didn’t give it to her. Apparently, one my my co-worker’s at the other store gave it out - she does seem to have trouble understanding that you do NOT give out employee/owner personal phone numbers to customers.
Yeah, that’s another one - about once a week I have some huffy complainer demanding that I either hand over the contact information for my co-workers - what? You don’t have your employee’s phone numbers? No, I’m not the owner, why would I need that? There’s also the demand for the home phone and address of the owners. No, you’re not getting that. You’re not entitled to that.
Invariably, they follow up with “You can’t contact them? What if there’s an emergency? What if the building is on fire?” What fucking stupid people - if there’s a fire I’m calling 911 because that’s how we get the fire department out here, calling the owner in that case doesn’t do shit to solve the problem.
But no, I’m not giving you anyone’s home phone number and address. Just is not happening.
Do you even have a job?
I’ve got a nasty feeling that this is going to come back up again before the items ship. Miraculously, the correct quantities are showing for the side of the system that engineering, quality, and production have to see…it’s the inventory side that’s all screwed up. To make your brain hurt even more, our inventory system is rather loose. You can tell where the item is supposed to be, but the location code only refers to a specific set of shelves…you still have to search that area to find the item. The worst is the area where the damaged items are moved; a single location code refers to three or four sets of shelves (floor to ceiling, though I don’t think anything is kept on top) plus the floor in front of the shelves (for very large items). Searching through this shelving arrangement has come to be known as “going on a treasure hunt”.
I [del]work in[/del] am the receiving department at my workplace and that is just completely messed up. I have about three or four different options for correcting that (which wouldn’t have been messed up that badly on my watch anyways 
)
[ul]
[li]Create and receive a credit purchase order to reverse the gibbled one and rebuild and receive it correctly (only correct method I had for the first 3 months I was in this job),[/li][li]Use the advanced features of our receiving software to do an in-place correction of the received quantities (preferred method),[/li][li]Edit the physical inventory database with the correct amounts (noting with the correct flags the reasons for the changes) (least preferred method, but occasionally required if there was no P.O. and the payment for product is irregular)[/li][/ul]
By the way, why didn’t you just order your 11 boxes in one line?
-DF
I’m not bitching about my job today. You know why? Because my job is not the job of whoever had to scrape up what was left of this guyto scoop into a bucket and send to the medical examiner’s office. (Carjacking suspect wound up in the cab of a 150-foot crane. Standoff ensues. Dude winds up chucking shoes and shit out the window at the cops below, and sprays them in the face with lubricant, climbs out of the cab, hangs by his arms for a while, then drops to his immediate and no doubt grisly death.)
The whole thing went down about 100 feet from my office. :eek: