Hubuduh What?

stupid people and my motorboat
2006-05-11 : 11:57 pm

I am in Uber Hate Humanity mode. I am including the people I hate, or the situations which have made me hate them. If you don't want to read about it, you can go down further. It gets less spiteful.

I DESPISE:

People who are so busy and important that they refuse to use articles or pronouns in their emails.
"When trying to print fax cover, experienced error, cover did not print. Only got near-blank sheet of paper. Was written "ERROR: CODE 15." Please send copy to fax receipt, form. "

One woman emailed me 3 times asking me to contact her. The first time, however, it said "please contract me." so, I figure, eh, typo. The second and third times, however, also said "please contract me." sometimes "contract" would be capitalized. I definitely think this woman has somehow gotten through her ENTIRE LIFE thinking the damn word is "contract"

"HI, I have tried 2 (two) complete this job."

Did you know that the word "vice" means "in place of?" As in "I would like it if can due date please be change to 16 May vice 15." As in, even if he had constructed a grammatically reasonable sentence, I still would not have known what the fuck he was saying, had I not looked it up. This may TOTALLY be my own stupidity, however, but I am too fucking tired to pretend I had EVER heard of this.

One guy wrote in to warn us that a mass rescheduling effort may be coming our way, based on the fact that the tracking number of the package WE SENT HIM led him to believe that his assignment would have to be put off to accommodate the new shipping schedule. This, by the way, he writes to me a week into the mass rescheduling effort. There is no possible way that one of these people would know about this before we would, AS WE ARE THE ONES SCHEDULING THE ASSIGNMENTS AND THE SHIPMENTS so all this does is showcase the thick haze of self-importance through which this particular dude views the world.

Her: Please give me an extension on my assignments, and I need a new form.
Me: I will gladly give you an extension, however I need you to send me the ID#s of your assignments, so I know which ones are yours. I'll send you a new form.
Her: I got the form, but you haven't extended my due dates yet. This is my second request. I guess my first request was read but ignored. Please give me an extension on my assignments.

Nothing, by the way, will sqash your fresh-faced morning bliss like checking your work email first thing in the morning and seeing: You have 222 emails! And they're coming in about as fast as I can answer them, so right now my inbox is remaining in the 300-315 range, no matter how many I answer. (I took a couple hours to work out this morning, which is why the number jumped up). This is what happens when you put the new girl on an assignment that's big enough for at least 20 people, ALL. BY. HER. SELF. Maybe if my boss ACTUALLY FUCKING PAID ME ON TIME I wouldn't be working my ass off every waking goddamn moment while the collection agencies come to take my car away for nonpayment.

------------------End Uber Hate Humanity Mode------------------

Meanwhile, can I just tell you? I am like, Super Turbo Swimmer Girl now! I improve DRAMATICALLY every time I go to the pool. In the past week I've doubled both the length of time and the intensity with which I can work out. Okay, so this is one of those things you just feel compelled to confess, even though you know it will do nothing but serve to make you look like a dork (and by "you" I mean "me" and by "dork" I mean "even bigger dork" ): When I'm swimming and my legs are kicking away and I'm just propelling myself down the length of the lane and watching things go by as I turn my face up out of the water, it's like I'm a little motor boat and my feet are the propellors. And then I get "Sister Christian" in my head. Which is NOT a bad song to have in your head. Especially in the Springtime. Especially when you're driving down some back road in Sanbornville, New Hampshire and you're still allowed to smoke and it's Friday afternoon and you're on your way home from work and you know you're going about 30 mph over the limit and you're just DARING one of them backwoods, redneck coppers to catch you and you're singing "MOTORING! WHATS! YOUR! PRICE! FOR FLIEEEEGHT!" at the top of your lungs and it's warm and the window's down and you're going to JD Streete tonight with Val and Becky and in a month you get to go to CAMP!

WAAAAAAA MY LIFE WAS SO MUCH BETTER A YEAR AGO!!!!

Okay. No it wasn't. (yes it was). My life is perfectly fine now. (i miss last year). I have direction now. (i had fun then). I don't have Tyrrell for a roommate now. (that's a damn good point).

Oh, and this is weird. This... ~~woman~~ girl at work (she's younger than I am, one of the top brass at this company) has been very... sigh, I don't even have the energy to write down the way she treats me, but it is less than desireable. What I realized the other day is that I think the reason she is so shitty to me is not because she doesn't like me or she's just a bitch, it hit me like a ton of bricks. No matter how incredible she's doing in her life, she is for some reason, really, really insecure. I realized that every single thing she says or does to me all adds up and when you put it all together, she's acting like she's, dare I say it? Threatened by me. WTF?!? I'm the LOWEST man on the totem pole, she is like, 3rd or 4th from the top. Hell, she's actually sleeping with the top. Well, one of them.

Okay, now, I KNOW that sounds incredibly conceited of me, but it's just the things she says to me, and the way in which she says them. She talks to me as though I make her nervous, for some reason, and she has to overcome that nervousness by appearing overconfident.

Maybe you have to actually see it, because this sounds totally self-involved. But it's weird. Maybe if I change my tactic and stop being defensive or dismissive around her (which was totally my defense mechanism for how shitty she is to me) and just start being really nice to her, maybe it'll change.

Either way, it's a good experiment, and it never hurt to be nice to someone, right?

Random thought of the day (inspired by Hottie Boombalottie Vi's diary, natch): Remember those Love's Baby Soft magazine ads that ran so goddamn RAMPANT in Seventeen magazine? They always featured an abundance of baby pink and always centered around a denim jacket and dark-haired male model with dark eyes and deep dimples whose name was probably, like, Todd? Or, like, Kevin? And the picture was always all "soft touch" like the overdone blurriness all the Popular Girls got in their school photos with their big, permed, Aquanetted hair and their B.U.M. Equipment sweatshirts and Z. Cavaricci's? (I was a big fucking geek and got "Laser.") GOD I hated growing up in Pelham!

oh, and the office. dude what the fuck. i can't even muster up the energy to cry and wail and flinch and whine and sob and gnash my teeth and wish i was pam.

PS Did I mention, did I happen to mention, that the BioDad is coming out here for THREE WHOLE DAYS. He WAS supposed to come out next week, but his trip got delayed, it is now the week after (the week of me starting full time at my job and me starting my summer course and me putting on the company party.) But still. He's coming out. Then he's leaving directly for Ireland. Permanently.

It should be interesting.

I totally pretended I had the luxury of watching a movie and not working tonight, and now I'm going to pretend I have the luxury of going to sleep. And not working. I don't, Email count is 323 at the moment, it'll probably be close to 400 by tomorrow morning, and it will definitely have reached 400 if not surpassed it by the time I get back from my swim. But hey. A girl's gotta sleep.

Note to self: Check out John Hiatt? Or something? No, but you can check out my electric disco industrial version of everybody's favorite Beatles song! Or something. Just make sure you have your speakers on! Kool Aid! OH YEAH!