?

Log in

No account? Create an account

Previous Entry | Next Entry

Work happened. Beauty, from the upcoming NaNoWriMo 2005, is getting very insistent in my head. She's not quite sure who she is yet, but her story needs to be told. She doesn't even have a name yet. I refuse to allow her to gank rosalynde's.

I was on the phones. I got surveys. I was not sitting next to Figment, alas. I was sitting next to one of the Dowager Empresses of the workplace, a stately woman whose hair usually matches her outfit. I am amazed that I am picking up a reputation for being uniformly sweet and polite and nice on the phones. (I think I mentioned that I got my semiannual review the other day? The Alternate Lead Monitor took me into the back room last Friday and told me that I rock hardcore, and to keep up the good work. At this point, I'm probably more critical of my own performance on the phones than the rest of the monitoring staff is.) The Dowager Empress of Colorful Hair wanted to know if I was really as nice in person as I sound on the phones.

Any batch of new hires means new people to get to know, to screen in and screen out. Part of the process is seeing who's going to wind up in The Crowd. From a recent batch of trainees seem to have emerged two students of the Art Institute in Animation (one graduated, one current) who have been spending breaks with Figment and therefore me as well. I was going to do the simple thing and call the guy (about my age-ish, graduated) the Animator, and the girl (eighteen or nineteen, current student) the Animatrix, but then I recalled a certain cult movie and assorted animated spinoffs, and decided that for confusion's sake, I should probably not bestow that nickname upon the girl. The guy may well wind up being the Animator, and the girl may wind up being the Acolyte.

The Acolyte's alarm bird clock has been acting possessed, so I wound up bringing in my old (still functional) emergency back-up alarm clock (the one that the Little Fayoumis infamously wondered "Is that [Darkside]'s alarm clock?" about) for her to have. It was brand new in 1994, and not all the buttons work anymore, and it eats tapes, but at least it isn't possessed. My tower shelf doesn't have a clock anymore, but at least this way it'll be in use.

Benadryl sends me loopier than a very loopy thing, but at least it helps put a dent in the allergies. And there are bad, bad, bad allergies going around. Rain in the Arizona early spring makes the Arizona late spring unbreathable.

In other news, work is having overtime, hiring a bunch of n00bs, and having 10 hour shifts on Saturdays. (easalle -- I'm working late on the 30th, so I won't be able to make it. Argh.) This will prove to be interesting. dustraven and trystan_laryssa's roommate and GM for the superheroes game is working there now. Insanity shall commence, and shall run screaming in the other direction, because work is going to be post-sane, or knurd, or something like that. There will be far too much caffeine, far too little coherent thought, and far too many supervisors pulling a twelve-hour shift or longer than that.

...Heck, after pulling a few supervisor shifts on the 10 hour phone goon shifts (which translates to a 12+ shift for supervisory staff) I should be able to pull a double-shift Sunday as a phone goon (13 hours, 1/2 hour of which is between shifts) no problem.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
Powered by LiveJournal.com
Designed by yoksel