October 22nd, 2005

running, bomb tech

Cow-Orkers: When Good Chocolate Goes Psycho

The stuff that hits me like WHAM when Hormones Attack is generally the stuff that should be bothering me all along, but that I've grown accustomed to ignoring the rest of the time.




Rev. Not-So-Nice Super is to never be allowed access to more than one M&M at a time again.

"There are M&Ms coming out my ass!" is not intended to be taken literally when it's Stressy College Chick jumping up and down trying to get the M&Ms that Rev. Not-So-Nice Super dumped down the back of her dress all out and on the floor.

Falling over giggling when the two are hurling handfuls of brightly-colored chocolate candies at each other like slightly sticky pebbles is only encouraging them.


Some damnfool woman was doing a survey with a young respondent and ran into some trouble. Seems that the father had said that the kid was autistic. The kid was getting audibly frustrated and embarrassed that she couldn't answer the questions very quickly. So the damnfool woman told the kid that she understood that the attention deficit disorder made it hard to answer the questions, and that was okay. The father, who'd evidently been listening on the other line, blew the fuck up. I don't entirely blame him.

As a phone goon with really good rapport with some of the difficult respondents, I have a very good idea of what I would have probably said in the situation she described. I'd have probably said, "It's all right if you want to think about the questions for a while," or something along those lines, acknowledging that yes, the kid was answering them slower than standard, and yes, that was perfectly all right. But. While autism and ADD may happen together, they are NOT the same motherfucking condition. ADD kids can be exceptionally socially adept. Autistic kids can have decent focus control on a task, from what I've heard. (Just don't mix that with overwhelming sensory stimuli.) This woman is sufficiently clue-negative to have earned my distance.

I recall a similar What-The-Fuck moment with a demographics bit. It seems that the survey's programming, upon accepting "Asian" as an ethnic background, had coughed up an extensive (but incomplete) list of specific Asian countries-of-family-origin. The respondent was Korean. There was no such specific choice, and no write-in choice on the computer form. Instead of doing the proper thing, picking some random or null choice, and writing up a paper correction, the phone goon pressed if the respondent couldn't just pick another, like, say, Japanese. The respondent, only naturally, exploded at the insult, and the still-confused phone goon ran off to find a supervisor to tell her what to do. I managed to curb my own profanity long enough to tell her what to do.
phone, cordless phone

(no subject)

Today I have remembered the bag of Halloween candy I got for work. Whee, Halloween. I work a double tomorrow.
phone, cordless phone

(no subject)

Oh, my. Long day. I'm getting the edge of some politics, just enough to know where to step right for a career.
work, headset, nerf bat, working

Ahh, communication in the workplace.

Two of the newest new hires (Tall, Handsome, & Duuuuhmb and a friend of his sporting a 'do like raranax-before-the-haircut) have a disturbing tendency of getting seated next to each other across the area, which means instead of working, they lean back or turn around and talk to each other.

Today, TH & D's shaggy friend was standing up at his booth at the extreme northwest end of Area 8, trying to communicate with a friend of his who was standing at the extreme northeast end of Area 9. The communication took the form of a rudimentary sign language composed in a large part of gestures, funny faces, and some unique mutant chicken dance.

At some point I'll draw a diagram of the seating arrangements at work, but suffice to say that real-time communications between these two seats during the working shift should not be happening, especially as both young men should have been sitting in their seats and facing into their booths.

I had more on the topic, but a sudden Blue Screen of Death at work ate it.
bondmates, sigil

(no subject)

Called Darkside while I was on break today. His dad answered the phone. This means Darkside's dad is back home from the hospital! Hooray! Darkside didn't discuss the details overmuch, as he was in the same room as his father at the time, but I gathered and Darkside confirmed that his father was exasperating, cranky, a pain in the ass, and they were so glad to have him back.

I told Darkside the tale of the M&Ms last night, and there was much amusement. I pointed out the similarity of the "Oh shit I have M&Ms down my dress!" dance to the "ICE! ICE DOWN MY BACK!" dance -- they're essentially the same, except without the OMFG COLD.

I came back in without a headache, and grinning and warm all over. Everyone could tell who I'd just been talking to on my break. It shines off me like a 5000 watt theatre lamp under a mesh laundry basket. (Did Yeshua son of Mary consider the fire hazard possibilities of lamps under baskets?)