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Things like work from Tuesday

So I could have Saturday off, I worked Tuesday.

I wound up being a phone goon for the first two hours, then monitoring and validating.

The phone goon bit was the easy part. There were many minuses, and at least two situations where I wanted to pound my head on something, or pound the phone goon's head on something.

It's one thing to respond politely to the conversation that the respondent is trying to make, then get back on task. It's entirely another thing to start up a conversation with the respondent, and have the respondent be the one who's responding politely but not trying to get you to talk much more, and only get spurred to DO YOUR JOB because it's break time and you want to get the survey done so you can go on break.

I have a lot more sympathy for the person who was not sure if we interviewed business numbers or not, but she was Not Listening to the respondent. The respondent was lecturing about the American corporate megaculture, and how doing surveys like this was choosing to participate in it, because one way or another, someone's trying to sell you something.

On my way out the front door of the apartment, I fell and twisted my ankle. It's these "Don't fuck me right now, I'm working!" shoes. They have no ankle support.

The break time for most of the phone goons was 15 minutes. I took a half-hour break because I knew my shift was going to be long enough to warrant one. I came in late. I noticed that Mr. Entitlement was on the phone. I ignored him. I noticed that he was still on the phone when the break room emptied except for me. I left the break room. Mr. Entitlement was still on the phone. He followed me out quickly, and was heard saying to the Desk Guy, "If everyone else went in before me, does that mean I'm late?" (That would be a big yes, fugghead.)

I have a meeting this afternoon. I should get there early, and bring a handkerchief or five -- there's a shuttle launch, and the TV in the break room is perpetually tuned to a news channel. I'm a sop, and cry at space flight.
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
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