Are you in a position to wear a white cotton T-shirt underneath your uniform shirt? Or would that be too hot?
I was going to suggest an under armour shirt.
I hate feeling like the rest of my company is either tasked with making my job impossible or spotlighting my resultant failures.
I’m switching to nights and the Mrs isn’t amused. What I’m doing isn’t working for me now but it’s easier to keep at it than to leave. I hope nights is better, but really I just need it to be extraordinarily great so I can feel good about staying or bad enough that I can leave without regret. Fuck being on the fence.
I’m actually hoping we’ll get kicked out of a conference room some day and end up having a half-hour meeting. We haven’t so far, but our conference rooms are usually busy so it could happen. I’m frustrated with the habit of coming to meetings late. It’s not necessary, and it’s not because anything really urgent needs to be taken care of, it’s just a really bad habit. Our staff meetings routinely start 15 or 20 minutes late because the top people in the department don’t get there on time, and I think that’s disrespectful of our time and it ends up with the rest of us being less productive because we’re waiting around on them to start the meeting. We’ve had times when the head of our department has said we’re not having the meeting at the scheduled time, but we’re having it sometime this afternoon, which wreaks havoc on the things I have planned for the rest of the afternoon.
I had a meeting one time that ended up being about 20 minutes long. I had to leave on a trip, and a bunch of people (from my department and others) came late. I said I had to leave at a certain time, and I did, so it was a very short meeting. I think it’s really unacceptable for people to show up for meetings that late.
Fast forward to today: I’ve been out most of this week for a family emergency. I worked about a half day today. I told my supervisor what my top priorities were this morning, and spent most of the time I was there on changes to one project we’re working on. So my supervisor emailed me after I left, asking about my progress on another project. That might not sound like a big deal, but she knows very well that she kept me busy with endless changes to this other project, so I didn’t have time to get much done on project #2. So tomorrow she’s going to be unhappy that project #2 isn’t done. :rolleyes: Also she doesn’t believe that project #2 takes any time to do, even though it’s hours of work for me. There are no shortcuts. It takes time for me to do the work, and she seems to think I can get it done in five minutes. Maybe I make things look too easy.[URL=“http://boards.straightdope.com//www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/”]
Agreeing, and adding to the list of her faults. Not only does she expect you to know everything she thinks she knows, but what she thinks she knows is in fact incorrect. If she ever “admits” it though, my money says it won’t be an admission per se, it will be a rewriting of history: she’d always known it, it’s the rest of you who wrote it wrong.
This is what I do :nodding: On the hottest days I swap out the t-shirt with a muscle/athletic shirt.
[hijack] I’ve got a permanent heat rash on my back even though I wear the t-shirt. It gets hideously itchy during the summer and/or when I sweat, undershirt or not. Working next to an oven does that [/end hijack].
My supervisor is being snippy with me because I gave her some information she asked me to give her. 
I’ve probably said this before–it’s like gaslighting, except I think she really has completely forgotten she asked me for that information (two days ago, not weeks or months ago). I think something is wrong with her brain.[URL=“http://boards.straightdope.com//www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/”]
We sell mirrors. We do not replace broken mirrors.
A person came in with a broken mirror that they had bought six weeks ago! They said it broke because it was not wrapped properly. Why didn’t they bring it back sooner? “I had it in the car and just took it out!”
Yeah, right.
“Six weeks of bouncing around in your car and you think it wasn’t wrapped right?” :dubious:
People trying to return items will tell you anything. One time a woman was trying to return two plastic trays that had obvious been used and washed (retail value $2.12). When we flatly refused to take them, she picked them up and slammed them on the counter hard enough to break them, all the while screaming at the top of her lungs about never coming back to our store. Then she stomped out.
Eh, when I did Security work and would escort people out of places, they’d scream about how they weren’t coming back - to places they weren’t welcome to in the first place. I’d just laugh at them and say something like “Sounds good!” or “That’s right, you’re NOT coming back”.
Laughing at stupid people always worked better, and made them angrier (but non-physical) than yelling and being a jerk. They could go to my boss and complain about me swearing or not being nice. Complaining because I laughed at them and was smiling and pleasant didn’t tend to go anywhere.
Yesterday was Employee Appreciation Lunch day. Day shift got grilled hot dogs and hamburgers, fresh potato chips, tons of drinks, and cookies for dessert. We (second shift) got cold, uncooked hot dogs and undercooked hamburgers that had been in the fridge since noon, open bags of potato chip crumbs that who knows how many fingers had touched, half a jug of iced tea and one bottle of soda, and about ten soggy, stale cookies.
Thanks for the appreciation. Now how about ordering us some pizza so we can have an edible lunch?
Goddamn, it’s a good thing we have some of our larger Outlook email distribution groups locked down so that only a few people can use them.
Some stupid fucks just tried to send a basic question email (that should come to our team) to roughly 5,000 people in our company by sending it not just to our team’s email box, but to three freaking HUGE distribution lists. First one early in the morning failed so one of her team mates helpfully tried to send it again.
:smack::smack::smack:
Yes, the very first line of my response is a polite version of “Are you fucking stupid?”
Entire work program crashed. We have nothing to do. No ETA on when it will be back up.
And we’re not allowed to update our voicemails saying the system is down, please call back later. Management still expects us to answer.
We had a massive company-wide outage last Friday, not even an ETA for hours, and since my manager wouldn’t let me leave and work from home later once shit was running again, I enjoyed leaning back in my chair, one bare foot propped on my laptop, openly playing Plants vs. Zombies on my personal tablet and just kickin’ it at my desk.
Here’s how it went last week at Assessment and yes, it is paraphrased but accurate:
L and me: This norming essay has a lot of problems, we have to stop a lot to understand it, we’re giving it a low score.
B: Well, you’re just not seeing all the good stuff I’m seeing, all the details, it’s means “it was,” etc.
L: I have never heard of that. And the sentence with the word “Fail” at the end makes no sense and seems to be missing words or may be a run-on.
B: He means he tried, but…FAIL! (sarcasm dripping): Don’t you ever look at social media?
L (looks at me, whispers): What’s her problem?
Me: I know that phrase, B, but the sentence is still problematic. I’ve found at least nine sentence or word errors just in the first short paragraph–
B: We don’t have to count them; that’s not on the rubric.
Leader: Let’s give it a split score and move on to the next one.
B: Oh, I don’t even want to say anything. Nope, not going to.
(a few seconds later, even more sarcastically than earlier): I suppose we have to count the errors in this one?
L and me (to each other, whispering): What a bitch.
FYI, I have been doing this work for ELEVEN years and teaching college comp. much longer than that. I’m not a moron. I know sentence problems when I see them. Yes, I know what social media is. Even if my score was wrong, or B’s was, there is no call for the sarcasm, mocking, and ridicule spewing from B’s mouth. I would never speak so unprofessionally to a colleague and fellow assessment specialist.
I texted the leader about it later and she apologized for not having the gumption to speak up (though I think it might have been a very uncomfortable moment if she had said something in front of everyone else). She had ranted to her husband about it.
I’m putting in earplugs next time B is there.
And FTR, 'twas is the only contraction there’s ever been for “it was.”
“It’s” means it is or it has.
Duh.
“Why are you home so early?”
“The corporate server did its usual Thursday at 3 crash two days early.”
When you call my company you get to listen to an ad talking about our state-of-the-art computer system. Maybe it is for a telemarketing company, but I’ve stared at enough AS400 terminals to know a bad port job when I see one. A decades-old one. The [del]involuntarily retired[/del] redundant IT people among us all say, “Send us to headquarters and we’ll have this fixed before the end of the week.” I believe they need to be physically at headquarters so they can kill the current IT people.
For the love of all that is good and holy, if you EVER call me “sweetie” in that fake-nice sarcastic bitch voice of yours again, I’m Audi. You don’t pull that shit when Sally is here because you know she won’t stand for it. While there’s no official hierarchy of techs, we aaaaaaaaaaall know the two of you have been here the longest and know the most about how this place runs, but seniority doesn’t give you the right to be shitty with me. And yes, licensed techs should be paid more because we busted our asses for years on schooling and know what the fuck a glomerulus is and what it does. Formal education matters in a medical setting, even “just” a veterinary one.
The power went out today. Shit happens. I didn’t do it.
Don’t whine at me that you lost five hours work. I ran out of give-a-shit yesterday. No, there’s no way to get it back, not all programs will hold your hand and wipe your ass and do automatic draft backups like Excel does.
What do you do now? Pull up your big girl panties and start typing. Hit save every once in a while.
That was the internal conversation, the external one was slightly more professional…
Audi? You’re a German-made car?