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Crunching the Numbers

I have probably done this to people without even realizing it.

Today was pretty much taken up by one blamed report I was putting together for Management. The requirements for something that I got Friday were kind of blurry, but I put together something pretty spiffy. It was, however, wrong. I got the actual requirements, put something far better together, then realized that OMG, stuff from non-current interviewers were not being counted. (And there's still stuff that's not being counted, because the numbers are off. But it's better.) It needed a whole chunk of data, broken down in specific ways. And it wasn't stuff that I was comfortable shoving around with queries, because it was just so fiddly and obnoxious (and I wanted to see wtf I was doing; I'll use queries next time on all the other jobs). But I got it done and got to go home early and go play.

It's planned for four-hour shifts the rest of the weekend. Oi. Not fun with the happy. There's dayshift starting up Real Soon Now. That's good, because hours are short.

Instead of being quite as short as they might be and sending everyone home totally obscenely early, they are doing "review training", aka "sit & bitch & review stuff we should have known and leave some of the phone work alone." My numbers are occasionally the star of the show.

Mr. Boring-Ass McCrankypants who attempted* to Start Shit At Work With The Supervisors for othercat some time ago was Not Pleased with the fact that while he may in fact be above average, he is not in fact above planned production. There was snark at his expense. There was rather a lot of it from 3:30pm Eyeliner Woman right then and there (she was loudly excited about her above-production scores) and a rather lot more behind the scenes later. (*And failed. Succeeded in putting him deeper in the hole himself, though. Tip to obnoxious know-it-all old men: don't complain about "my neighbor talks to herself" to the multiple-personalitied supervisor. Especially when you don't want anyone to, like, let your neighbor know that it's a touch disturbing, or be moved, you just "think someone should be aware." I'm aware that you're an asshole and trying to start shit, and I'm aware that she's better at her job than you are at yours, and that the supervisors like her and don't like you. And if you mouth off the way you have been lately to the wrong person, you're going to be searching for some of that employment elsewhere that you're evidently so much better suited for.) (Amazingly, Cute Desk Guy and the Figment actually get along with the dude. What is it about pompous windbags?)

Don't keep objects that could possibly be misused by the very determined off the plane, keep potential terrorists off the plane. Oh, goodness. I almost wrote "phone".
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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