2007.07.02 This day is going to need liberal amounts of IRC and caffeine.
IRC will help me keep my sanity today. I suspect I'm going to need it. Lurking, but that should help give the human contact I need.
Flyer for bake sale: designed. Now can I do real work please?
Pulling a whole honkin' large load of stuff off someone else's database. That I can do while I get tea, right?
Tea gotten (1st cup). Whole honkin' large load of stuff pulled. Level of hate for my co-workers: minimal. Pieces of gum chewed: 1. (Flavor of the moment: Bubblicious Strawberry Splash.) Times I have had to pull gum fragments off my glasses: 1.
Ibuprofen: +400mg. Level of hate for my co-workers: moderate for those who managed not to get a copy of their TPS report to me from Wednesday. Minimal for the rest. Outlook: still throwing weird errors every morning.
Number of times paper-sorting gel has been applied to fingertips: 3. Number of times started to go through stack of papers to verify that all job numbers are in the spreadsheet before commencing data entry: also 3. Number of times sidetracked in this: 2 so far. Liters of soda consumed: 0. Liters of soda available: 2. Flavor of soda: orange, store brand, un-caffeinated.
Number of job numbers not in the spreadsheet already: 0. (Yay!) Number of missing TPS reports: 1.
Interruptions while trying to enter the TPS reports in the sheet they go in: lots. Love for the IRC channel I frequent: high.
Wish to kick the trolls out of dot_bdsm_snark: high. Feeling that somehow the community could have done a lot more to keep that from happening by banning them in the first place: higher.
Days of TPS report entry completed: 2. Bubblegum level: insufficient. Approximate hours remaining until jaws are capable of handling bubblegum again: 2.
Cans of Mountain Dew discovered in my work bag: 1. Number of cherries eaten: lots. Pounds of cherries bought at Albertsons' for $1.47/lb: appx 2. Amount of cherries left: enough to get me through the day.
Days of TPS report entry completed: 3.666. Cups of tea finished: 1. Ounces of Mountain Dew that would fit into my crane mug: at least 14, maybe 16. Ounces of Mountain Dew that are in said mug: only 12. Team that neglected to supply me with their TPS report on Wednesday: #2. Team I thought it was: #3.
Times Snarky Lady has complained about Field so far today: 1. Minutes after she sat down it took to do so: 8. Number of bad cherries found: 1.5. Wrong percentages on TPS reports found so far: 4. Days of TPS reports entered: 4.
Consistency with which Rev. Not-So-Nice Super has the jobs in a different order from the way the rest of his team does on his TPS report: very high. Level of crazy this drives me: high. Wrong percentages on TPS reports found: 3 (one of the 4 presumed wrong was actually right, by amazing coincidence, as the percentages didn't add up to 100%). Days of TPS reports entered: 6. Supervisors who left one field entirely off their Saturday TPS reports: 1. Level of loathing for that supervisor: not as high as it might otherwise be if he weren't new. E-mails dispatched on that issue: 0 so far. Number planned: 1. Mountain Dew: 75% gone.
Mountain Dew: 100% gone. Cups of tea: 2. Supervisor responsible for the missing TPS report is the same supervisor responsible for the missing field on the Saturday TPS reports. Level of loathing for that supervisor: 3/10. E-mails dispatched on that issue: 0; number planned: 0 (from me). Managers talked to in person about that issue: 1. Kick in the arse that supervisor is probably going to get: 6/10. Love for factbusters: 10/10. Suspicion that Mr. Wizzle was involved somewhere in the creative process: 8/10.
Real Lunch: 0. Cherries: 75% gone. Times encountered the door headed north from the supervisor break room: 2. Times forgotten that the door now has a keypad when headed north: 0 (today). (Times forgotten it Friday: countless. Date keypad moved from the southbound side of that door to the northbound side of that door: Friday.) Level of spindizzy in head: 6/10. Times attempted to send photo of stickytab warning labels to self: 2. Times this failed: 2. E-mail addresses at which this failed: 2.
A line of young men just walked in. They have a physical resemblance to the Goslings of years past. It's not in build or ethnic background or features. It's the way they walk, just slightly out of sync. When one of them moves when they're standing still together, the movement sends ripples through the others. That kind of a group mojo makes me a little wary. Not that a group mojo like that is bad, but it's something to definitely keep an eye on when thinking about hiring them.
Things going on in the training room right now: 3. (I'm doing my paperwork in the southwest corner of the southwest quadrant, Snarky Lady is talking with potential trainees in the northwest quadrant, and Snarky Lady's Assistant is giving new hires a job briefing in the southeast quadrant.) Headphones of oblivion: are on. I have homemade beef stew and the dregs of a very cold cup of tea.
Ah, that's a briefing over there, not a cluster of trainees. Hooray!
Pieces of gum so far today: 2. Type of gum: same. Level of wank in dot_bdsm_snark: increasing.
Human computing! This is so damn cool. Cups of tea: 3.