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Another boozle tree kind of night

I wound up not going on break until the phone goons went home, which sort of tells you what kind of night it was. Things are closing. We closed Cell 1 on specifics, omgwtf. For the month. We went up to tonight's quota for Pacific in like 10 minutes, yay callbacks en espanol.

There is a tiny meepish temp girl who is deathly afraid of getting in trouble for stuff. Perhaps she would not be getting in trouble so much if she were not so bloody daft.

I was running $ISSUE_SIDE_JOB tonight. I do not do well with new things piled on top of new things piled on top of timecrunch. I wound up hyperventilating with very little command of English and tears seeping out, and utterly incapable of doing things I knew full well how to do, because of too much happening at once.

The rest of the workplace decided that leaving the trainee running a job by herself during month-end closing was really a bad plan, and wondered why the fsck Obso1337 Super had done so. Evidently everyone has days like that.

I was fine until I started losing track of where people had been put. I admit that my closest focus was not crashing the dialer... It was like swiss cheese booth reassignments, to the point where it wouldn't all fit on the row in the dialer ports list. Which meant two tasks. And then I froze. It became chaos; I wasn't sure where I was or what I was doing, and people kept changing their minds. I locked up completely.

Everything worked out all right. Eventually. I wound up wanting to hide under the desk for a while, though.

There were three bad respondents. One thought we were smoking the weed to call him on his business line, and wouldn't shut up about how we were smoking the weed long enough to listen to the explanation: random, you, and all you had to say was "this is a business line, not a household line". You're on the weed, you twerp. The other one was self-righteous without an understanding of the laws he was waving, and did not like having the error in his understanding pointed out. The final one was linguistic-based racist, going off because one of my Spanish-funnel phone goons had called. He earned an instance of the finger.

Working as a monolingual in a bilingual phone center has heightened my appreciation for the Spanish language and, by extension, all multilingual happiness. I'm starting to absorb words and phrases, simply by exposure. I'm not really doing anything active to pick up Spanish, but I'm making a small effort to try and retain words when I do hear and recognize them. I feel this delighted affinity for the words whose roots I recognize.
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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