February 12th, 2005

running, bomb tech

Pitcher of Frappucino

I've sort of been volunteered by the Stressy College Chick Shift Ops Super to bring in a pitcher of frappucinos tomorrow morning. I have the ice cream and the espresso, and I made a milk run on the way home.

Nothing perks up a quiet Saturday morning where everyone's tired like a frosty-cold pitcher of Evil Caffienated Substance.
running, bomb tech

Saturday Morning Fun

It's a nice, quiet, warm Saturday morning in the way
that only rainy quiet weekend mornings can be: cool
and wet outside, and just warm and slightly humid
enough inside, with all noises just slightly muted.

I mixed up a pitcher of espresso/chocolate ice
cream/milk blended beverage, and it's currently
sitting in the supervisors' break room refrigerator.
Since I'm a lactard who doesn't know where her pills
are, my digestion is regretting the cup I drank. It
tastes good, though.

The bond is on this morning, providing a good
50% of the hazy warm Saturday morning feel. My
co-workers are probably wondering what's making me
smile like this. Somehow I think many of them are
insufficiently esoteric to appreciate any explanation
I could give past "It feels like my best friend is
thinking of me this morning." Even though it doesn't
feel quite like he's thinking of me, it just feels
like he doesn't have to have his professional face on
and he's relaxing and happy.

My coffee has been duly appreciated. Stressy College
Chick Shift Ops Super and Short Chick Super said it
was good. *grin*

The general feeling of well-being is overriding my
worries of earlier this morning. I'll talk to the
person who will be training me as a supervisor about
my concerns, and I hope everything will go well.

I'm still skeeved out by the phone goon who seems to
be hitting on me. Stressy College Chick Super is
witness to the fact that he was wanting to know if it
was me when she answered the phone and told him that
no, he had to call the actual attendance line to call
in. Note to phone goon: you hitting on your
supervisors goes over a lot better if you actually
BOTHER TO SHOW UP FOR YOUR SCHEDULED SHIFTS.
Otherwise, we just think you're a pathetic schmoozer.
running, bomb tech

Standard Fanfic Writer's Disclaimer (updated)

I do not own these characters. (In fact, in some
cases, the opposite is the case, because they've set
up camp in my brain and won't shut up until I write
them they way these particular muses want to be
written.) $AUTHOR and $CORPORATIONS(s) own these
characters. This is my interpretation of these
characters, and is not necessarily intended to reflect
canon. Inclusion of an activity or viewpoint into this
piece of fanfiction is not to be interpreted as either
endorsement or disparagement of that activity on the
part of the fanfic writer. Opinions expressed by the
characters belong to the characters, and not
necessarily this fanfic writer, the website/archive,
and especially $AUTHOR and $CORPORATIONS(s).


I guess the people who mistake the opinions of
characters for the opinions of the authors 100% of the
time have never had a contrary character, a real live
character who just pops up and says and does the most
dreadful things that you just want to smack them for,
but it wouldn't be true to the character or the story
to have them act in any other way. And it's possible
to make these characters reasonably sympathetic, even
if you would hate them if you met them. S.M. Stirling
once said in discussion on the Bujold List that if his
society the Draka were real, he'd be one of the first
in there with a backpack nuke. It's also possible for
very sympathetic and good characters to be
substantially different from their author. Mercedes
Lackey wrote Diana Tregarde so well that unless you
knew that, in fact, she consulted some assorted People
Who Know Their Esoteric Stuff, you might think that
the author herself was heavily into the Esoteric
Stuff.

Author != character. Not everybody writes veiled
self-inserts.

Apropos of Az-the-Elder's brief rant on how
people keep mistaking the views and situations
portrayed in her fics as things that she actually
believes in/supports.
running, bomb tech

Flattery does get you places, though.

The other day as I was running check-in, one of the
call center's gentleman employees asked me if I was
familiar with a certain part of India's history, and
when I said I wasn't very, he talked about emperors
and lavish palaces and so forth in his beautifully
accented English.

Then he told me that I looked as if I should have been
one of the empresses.


Now, that is how to compliment your supervisor.
Nothing was expected of it other than a graceful
acceptance of the comparison. He and I have an
established history of amiable, if limited,
interaction, and his interactions with me are far more
avuncular than lecherous. (A combination of lecherous
and avuncular is an abomination and not to be
tolerated. At least, not by me.) He flatters me, and I
am pleased, and I smile at him, and he smiles at me,
and all is right with the world.
running, bomb tech

More ways in which I rock at work

I have exhibited schedule-fu yet again, and tomorrow,
instead of working the inconveniently-timed evening
shift, I noted that the Check-In Princess had taken
the morning off tomorrow, leaving the shift with no
check-in person formally scheduled (though Cute Geek
Super was there and could take over) and I wound up
swapping my schedule to take the position tomorrow
morning.

I rock.
ieee coin

New Fun at the Workplace

He-who-hits-on-me-without-portfolio has been given a nickname in my inimitable personal lexicon now. There is some confusion as to what, exactly, his name is: it says one thing in one computer system, another in the other, and I do believe he may even sign himself with some third completely different thing (that shares enough in common with the other two to generate even more confusion). Through my usual scheme of skipping around to find a related-but-unrelated name, I have settled on the tag "King of Birdbrains".

King of Birdbrains is not entirely unlike the Master of Misinformation. From what I gather, the Master of Misinformation, while loud, obnoxious, creepy, and sometimes unwarrantedly hostile, is so because he was born out of sync with most of the rest of the human race, and it looks like only intensive therapy and perhaps medication have gotten him to as social as he is today.

The King of Birdbrains may have social issues, but they're the issues that come of being too outgoing, charismatic, and flirtatious -- with ulterior motives and without the follow-up social or workplace steadiness that make charismatic into a positive thing. He seems to have noticed me and decided that I am the perfect target for his charm, which overjoys me no freaking end concerns me some. He hasn't been showing up for his regularly scheduled shifts, let alone some of the extra ones he signs up for. A good supervisor finds any attempt to schmooze to try and not get zinged for attendance with that attendance record annoying.