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A day.

Work tends to leave me feeling exhausted and drained, sometimes, no matter what kind of a day I had.

Today was an eleven hour shift (for me) featuring two dialer crashes, followed up by an invasion of IT guys taking over the network at 6pm. On the other hand, now pretty much everyone in the building knows how to get on the OMG DIALER DOWNTIME contingency screen in our automated timeclock. They have also gotten experience dialing the old-fashioned way: by hand. Get the next record from the queue, turn on your bloody phone, dial, hang up after 4 rings, get a new record, repeat.

To improve morale, I stalked up and down my areas in the Darth Vader mask for a few minutes, causing some of the phone goons to go into near-hyperventilating states of laughter.

Stressy College Chick doesn't think I caused the first crash.

I got to write up the dialer crash e-mails. I also had a chance to work on my Unified Field Spreadsheet, which is going to virtually eliminate the time working up the individual end-of-shift job status forms, because all the information that goes on the status winds up going on what has been dubbed the TPS report. (There was an Office Space-inspired practical joke phase where people kept telling other people that they'd have to start filling out TPS reports/accusing them of not doing theirs and getting scolded for it; this was followed up by a new spreadsheet to fill out. Since it didn't have much of a name, it got dubbed the TPS report.) I think I shall call it the UnF Spreadsheet for spr0t for short. (Pervs. ;)

Vocabulary word of the day (week?) at work: "defiant". Stressy College Chick called Rev. Not-So-Nice Supervisor defiant, then realized that she didn't really have a good grasp on what it meant. So she asked me. I explained. She concluded that yes, he is, and it's a damn cool word to boot!

Today Rev. Not-so-nice super started attempting to track Trendy Chick's cussing. He spaced it after a while, but before he stopped counting, she'd cussed about 19 times, not counting "pissed off" and a few other things.

I shall call the new trainee supervisor who has the same initials as I do "AL", because while those aren't my actual meatspace initials, they're my initials online. Oddly enough, while I respond to my meatspace initials, I don't react the same way to "AL". So, she will be AL for the moment. No, there is no Sam. (...Nor Captain what's-his-face./Nor Frodo. ...though at one point there was thought of calling Homie G Super "Sam" and Cute Short Chick's brother "Frodo", and I made othercat totally giggle by suggesting supervisor RPS, which was just wrong.)

Tomorrow may be a doughnuts/muffins morning.

I have been cleaning my iTunes and re-finding music that had the files moved without leaving a forwarding address. Much happiness. Lots of my R.E.M. got lost in the shuffle, and I've been slowly but surely re-finding it. These songs are essential to me.

Morning happens soon. I go bed.
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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