May 1st, 2005

running, bomb tech

Zombie Morning

I stayed up far too late. I was first trying to clean house, then write up the on-dragging incident, and then finally wound up chatting briefly with pyrogenic. He had a question from deeahblita for me.

I've actually run into the word "ulu" in real life -- there are signs posted in the Fairbanks International Airport stating that they don't care if it's just a cool thing you picked up and you'd have no intention of threatening to slice and dice a fellow passenger or any airline staff, you still have to check any ulus you may have in with the baggage.

On a related note, I discovered that the Official Scrabble Dictionary lists "Gor" as "a mild oath" last Wednesday night, and then I wound up explaining Gor to a much-bemused writing group -- out in the parking lot. (It's a Catholic cafe, so I felt that it would be inappropriate to over-share inside the establishment, besides which, we were getting kicked out because it was closing up for the night.) The two counter guys had completed a nearly-perfect game of Scrabble, with only one letter left, an R. I took a gander at the board and discovered that there was "GO" and "NO" that could be made to be an intersecting "GOR" and "NOR" with that one letter left. I knew Gor was a (fictional) place-name, usually associated with me defenestrating novels (boojum gave me one as an example of how a good concept could go very bad); I didn't know that it was used in the Scrabble dictionary.

Regarding the whole gossip-at-work thing, there is all sorts of gossip utterly pervading the phone goon break room, so a quiet discussion of a minor kerfuffle-incident that happened to be within the hearing range of someone with excellent hearing who was probably sitting pretty close is well within the bounds of reasonable conversation as far as this workplace is concerned. No one was bringing anything onto the call center floor, and if you can't have a quiet talk with your real friends when neither of you is supposed to be working, then who can you talk to? Given the people involved, it was a hell of a lot less likely to be a nasty case of mudslinging than I'd think it would be if almost any of the workplace's complement of fratboys, teenyboppers, old geezers, and old hags were in any way involved. (The break room is sometimes scary. The young men talk booze and cars, the old men talk booze and politics, and all the men talk about electronics and women, but the teenyboppers are frightening and the old hags are vicious.)

I had occasion to note that actually, fresh synthetic motor oil and standard Mountain Dew are about the same color. (Much as Code Red Mountain Dew and a lit strawberry votive candle are the same color, except one of them is on fire.) Fortunately, this was merely something I was in a position to observe and make note of, rather than a disgusting and/or regrettable discovery.
running, bomb tech

Work, Books, Employment

"Aren't you glad you've got me? Where would you like to kick me?" -- one of the resident cranky old ladies, who does not interact well with computers, reporting a computer problem (likely a PEBKAC error).

Paladin of Souls, by Lois McMaster Bujold, is the happy recipient of not only a Hugo for Best Novel, but a Nebula for Best Novel as well. (I shared this with the Bunny Master (TJ's Queen Monitor's husband, who has this nickname from a Vampire: the Masquerade chatroom he's the storyteller in) because he's a fanboy of her works too.)

My workplace is decent about descretion in firing. Someone got fired yesterday, one of the shrill and loud ladies who was always complaining about things and rarely read verbatim. I happened to notice because I was in the area when the fatal minus report came in, and the Stressy College Chick sighed and said that oops, this was the last straw, and she would have to be let go: there were orders from the office that this was to happen if she should get another minus report. But she didn't say the name at all, just told Comic Pirate Super to get the person from such-and-such a booth and have them sit and wait in Monitor Room 5 and she'd be there to talk with her in a bit. I had to look up the person on the seating chart to figure out who it was. Granted, I could have waited and watched to see who walked by, but people are getting called up to talk with supervisors all the time...

Yes, I'm nosy like that. If I hadn't had the seating chart to hand, I probably wouldn't have bothered to figure out, because that would have been a little too nosy.

Right now, my job function (at the moment) is mostly sitting, answering the phone, looking decorative, and editing the text questions from the surveys. There are some pretty amusing ones, such as the "Ass packaging" answer to the employment question, and of course Figment's all-time favorite amusing answer. "Dancer." "And what does the job entail?" "Taking my shirt off and showing my boobs to guys." (Or something along those lines.) Today's aren't that amusing, but they're still fun enough... When things speed up, I'll be doing more paperwork. At the moment, though, since it's a Sunday morning, it's a little quiet.

On why this person rated a bill/bill format poorly: "It's monotonous. It is uninteresting. It's not like reading science fiction."
running, bomb tech

Hanging out with Sis was good for my cursing.

I have gotten out of practice at making the sort of curse that makes people giggle and wince at the same time.

Some years ago, I'd gotten very mad at Dell's customer service representatives, and more angry at their phone system -- the phone system that, every thirty seconds out of a half-hour hold, would thank me for my patience at staying on the line. I do believe that it would ring, then thank me for my dwindling patience.

Collapse ) This was evidently sufficient to make silmarian giggle and wince at once.

I need to get back into the habit of cursing well.