Stimulating a Shaved Beaver

Me: “So I went to lunch to Daphne’s today, and they gave me so much meat.”

Coworker 1: “What…um beef?”

Me: “No, you know…lamb.  They gave me so much shaved lamb with my meal.”

Coworker 2: “I prefer the shaved beaver.”

Needless to say, the quiet room of tech geeks fell on the floor after this uncharacteristic outburst from coworker 2.  Perfect timing and witty.

So I haven’t received my stimulus package from the government yet, though I did receive my refund checks early this week.  A few months back I figured all $600 would go straight to debt, but my wife and I have been making quite a few sacrifices as of late, so I am tempted to splurge on something a little fun….maybe for the house…maybe just for me.  I don’t know yet.  Here are a few things I’ve been thinking about:

• Blu-Ray DVD player – My Panasonic DVD player is in mint condition, but it’s also about 6-7 years old and is not progresive scan.  At times it takes a few minutes for the try to open.  I’d like to get a HDMI, Hi-Def player now that the standard has been agreed upon, but they are still a little high priced right now.  I’m hoping by the holiday season they’ll come down more.
• GTA IV: Yeah, my wife may be a bit upset if I buy a $59.99 video game when I have like 5 others right now I haven’t yet finished.  I’m notorious for buying games….starting them….getting 50-75% done, and then never complete them.
• Shower fixture:  Our master bedroom shower spigot has been leaking and getting proverbly worse.  I hate the idea of getting this little bonus, just to spend it on a spigot repair.
• Bills: It may be nice to help pay down some credit card bills that aren’t going down as fast as I would like.  I can also look at it as a car payment and insurance payment for my car too.  But what fricken fun is that?
• Backyard Fountain: Our backyard is seemingly taking forever to remodel.  We’ve been eyeing a water feature for $367 for a while now that we would like to add.  On top of the base cost, there’s tax, some plumbing and electrical cords we’d have to buy, some landscaping bricks and dirt, etc.  So I see that $600 being spent already too before I even cash it.

On a totally unrelated note, our Network Admin is so nosey…..  Excruciatingly and annoyingly nosey when it comes to blatantly looking at our computer screens when he walks by.  It’s like he’s crowned himself the official Internet police, and wants to make sure every web page we look at is business related or something.  Everyday I inadvertantly catch him spying and straining his eyes to look at my screen and others.  So annoying.  Plus he coughs constantly and has an equally annoying underbiting chewing habit.  Guy cannot eat anything without his mouth smacking and coughing if his life depended on it.  Moreso the hacking….go the G.D. doctor already and get whatever it is in your throat look at.  It’s been a year nonstop.

Square peg in round hole?

Where does the red square thingy go?

Rant.

Yup, I have another damn rant today in regards to stupid employees who seem to leave thier common sense at home when casual Friday’s hit.  Actually, that’s not true, stupidity doesn’t seem to favor any particular day here, it just seems more and more prevalant lately.  I would blame the swine-flu, but that would be insulting to the pigs who are actually much smarter than people give them credit for.  As a matter of fact, I may bring up the fact at the next HR meeting that we could most likely get a few sows who couldn’t do any worse than some of the people here, and at a much lower salary.

I don’t think lack of common sense is generally gender specific, although I do notice this more so with many of the women here than I do the men.  I seriously question the “I’m helpless” factor that many of the women exhibit at my company.  I don’t want to believe they are all so dense….Seriously, I truly do want to give them the benefit of the doubt and hope they secretly are playing us guys in getting us to do menial tasks for them.  In which case, maybe I am the stupid out really….for falling for it day after day.

So today, I get a call that an employee moved from one cubicle to another yesterday, but has been unable to work because she can’t set up her computer. 

Two things strike me immediatedly:  1) The employee in question was somehow smart enough to take everything apart and move it on her own (or perhaps she had a male employee do it for her) and never made note of connections, and 2) She is a ‘developer’…which means she is a programmer, with a degree, and theoretically has worked with PC’s for years…and if she can’t re-assemble her PC to get it working after moving the day prior really goes more to show why we are producing the crap we are and no wonder why half our shit doesn’t work.

When I arrive at the employee’s desk, it turns out she “needs’ help in setting up her PC.  This literally means plugging in the power cables of the PC and monito to the electrical outlets underneath the desk and more astoundingly plugging in the mouse and keyboard.

After surveying the situation for all of 10 seconds and noting the cables neatly splayed out on the desk…..

Me: “Errr…..Um, so basically you called me because you needed someone to plug these into the wall?”

Employee: “Yes…Thank you.”

OMG…..I seriously don’t know what to think.   Am I happy because this is reall that ‘easy’ and just took 20 minutes of travel time?  Or am I astounded and continously surprised how lazy people really are and will make up just about any excuse in not to work.  I settle on the latter.

What kills me more is that the PS/2 connectors are not only color coded (see picture above of green & purple ends), but have icons next to each which denote which is the ‘keyboard’  and which is the ‘mouse’.  You’re fricken kidding me right?  This is a joke, no?  You are seriously confused that the purple male end plugs into the same colored purple female receiver?  And same story for the green?  You mean the picture of the keyboard printed next to each receptical is cryptic enough you blew a circuit?  Where’s the hidden camera?  Where’s Howie Mandell or Ashton Kucher because I know I’m being punk’d?

I’d hate to be your husband or kid when you buy any new appliance at home.  What do you do when you get electronics out of the box and stare at that long cord with the two or three silver prongs in your hand, and then look over at the wall in your living room and notice a faceplate with matching cutouts?  Are you seriously that dumb or are you just playing the hapless female waiting for the man to do make this earth shattering discovery because this menial task is beneath you?

“What do you mean,’It’s on’?”

It never ceases to amaze me how some people, despite their station in life, have somehow managed to crawl out of the shallow end of the gene-pool, inflatable floaties on, and made a mark on the corporate world.

And by no means do I consider myself Albert Einstein or the next Stephen Hawking, but somewhere along the ways our Human Resources department must have had too many margaritas one day at lunch and threw out the binder that contained the simple I.Q. tests for potential candidates upon their return.

There is one female employee in particular who manages to strike the perfect balance of making me want to laugh so hard I shoot coffee out of my nose when she opens her mouth, or poke my eyes out with a spork when I see her name come up on the phone display.  The level of  ’r-tardation’ questions can only be measured by Richter scale proportions.

We seem to play this game about every seven to ten days…..how to operate the video conferencing machine. 

See there, are two remotes.  One remote (white) turns on/off the rear projection screen and is labeled, incredibly ‘Projection Screen’.  The other remote (black) is for the Polycom unit/camera itself and is also clearly labeled…wait for it….’Polycom Remote.’  Somewhere in the mix of all these two (2) remotes…which are again labeled…and color coordinated…the good Lord Almighty has decided to teach me an unending lesson in patience in which I fail every week. 

She basically has a 50-50 shot on getting the correct remote to the right piece of equipment, and yet….even after 45 minutes of copious note taking and hands-on training on how to operate the equipment (read: turn on, turn off, dial)…she cannot grasp the concept of this process at all, and thus every week I must help ’set-up’ calls for her.   Only her….out of 900 other employees.

Anyway, I sense I’m drifting slightly off course here.

Of course this afternoon there is a ‘Very Important Meeting’ (aren’t they all?  It’s like the boy who cried wolf), and again my services are needed to TURN ON the video equipment.  It appears that the notes she took, our hands on training sessions, multiple set-ups, and that darn ‘On/Off’ button didn’t take and it’s just too much to deal with.

Me: “Okay, I went ahead and turned on the equipment for you.  You should be able to receive the call on schedule at 4pm when they call here.”

TA: “What do you mean, ‘It’s on’?”  ::perplexed stare::

Me: “Uh…I walked in the room, and powered the equipment ‘on’…” ::uh uh…I’m losing her.  I am really tempted to say ‘the opposite of off’, but that may come off too sarcastic::

TA: “So, what do I have to do?”

Me: “Nothing….You’re expecting a call at 4pm.  You just need to be present and when they call the system, it will automatically put the call thru.”

TA: “Has it been tested?”

Me: “Er….not sure I understand.  We make and receive calls everyday.”

TA: “What number will they call?”

Me: “The same number that everyone calls.  The one that is on the screen that the system displays every time it is fired up.  It’s also in our directory and posted in the room and in your notes.  It’s the same number everyone calls.”

TA: “So they just call that number?  Can you confirm that number for me?”

Me: ::I’m starting to lose my patience at this point::  “What’s to confirm?  The number doesn’t change, and it’s posted in three different places.”

TA: “So they know this?”

Me: “Uh….well, since ‘you’ set up the meeting, I assume you let them know the number they are supposed to call.  Again, I’m just here to turn it ‘on’…I didn’t schedule ‘your’ meeting, so I’m not sure if they know the number, but it is on the internal company directory listing.”

::she repeats the number back to me::

Me: “Yes, that’s it.”

TA: “Well, I just want to make sure.  If it doesn’t work, then people will start asking me questions…”  ::oh God, we wouldn’t want that would we?  We don’t want to expose how dense and incompetent you are. ::

Me: “Why wouldn’t it work?”  ::oh man, I just need to shut up and walk away….Stupid of me to get sucked into this vortex::

TA: “It’s just a very important meeting and I want to make sure there are no glitches and we are all on the same page.”  ::believe me honey, you are the only one here not on the page…you haven’t even checked out the book, let alone open it up::

Me: “It will work.  They are calling here.  You do not need to do anything.  The call will populate when they dial.  It is on and we do this everyday.”

And seriously, I am cutting this conversation short and not doing it justice.  I can’t even remember how it all went, but you get the gist.  It seriously went on much, much longer than it ever needed to be.  I finally had to abruptly tell her I am needed elsewhere and if she does encounter a problem, to call the Help Desk line (as she does everyday).

Thought of the day

“If you watch ‘JAWS’ backwards, it’s a movie about a shark that keeps throwing up people until they have to open a beach.”

Rangpur Gin + Pomengranate Soda

Pom-Pur anyone?

I’m very happy to announce I have discovered/created a new drink yesterday.  Well, I’d like to think I created it, but I suppose somewhere else on this big blue marble some other prat came up with the same concoction to help sway his ladies friends into thinking he’s got it going on like Donkey Kong.

The ingrediants are two-fold and simple: pomegranate soda and rangpur gin. 

Rangpur gin is a sweeter gin with the flavoring of lemons and mandarin oranges and is often confused with limes.   Actually, the word Rangpur originated from the Bengali language which is a common name for this hybrid fruit and shares the namesake with the city Rangpur in Bangladesh, India.  Rangpur fruit is highly acidic and can be substituted for commercial limes.

I haven’t decided on a name yet, but I like the kitbashing name of ‘Pom-Pur’.  A hybrid of the words ’pom’egranate and rang’pur’.  Its fun and easy to say, and rolls of the tongue nicely with a hint of exotic origins.

Pomegranate soda is already bottled by the Safeway/Vons/Pavillons ‘Organic’ line of foods, and is basically pomegranate juice, simple syrup (read: cane sugar) and soda water for fizz.  I suppose if you cannot find this already bottled, then simple ‘POM’ juice and regular soda water will do just fine.

Pom-Pur

• Ice filled tumbler cocktail glass
• 1.5 to 2 oz of Rangpur gin.
• Add remaining pomegranate soda.
• Garnish with (your choice): mint sprig, orange slice or orange rind twist, cherry.

I had a couple of these last night.  Be careful though….the sugar content is deceptively high and masked by the mellow and fruity taste.  A few of these may contribute to that hangover feeling because of the hidden sugar, just as I discovered this morning.

Feng Shui? No way, Jose!

There’s been a lot of movement around my company these past few weeks.  In the midst of an economic slowdown, tight margins, and the cancelation of this years holiday party, nothing screams productivity moreso than playing musical chairs with no real game plan in sight.

In all seriousness, I have never worked for any other company that is so inept at communicating between departments than the one I work for now. 

If  ‘dropping-the-ball’ on planning was a national sport, we’d have mutiple gold plated trophies to adorn our hallway cases.  If we were asked to nominate a MVP that captures the essence of confusion and disorganization, we’d have plenty of nominees vying for the top honor. 

In the midst of this round robin free-for-all on moving, I am part of a team to help these employees move.  I don’t mind that all.  What I do mind is the fact that these departments knew about all this at least two weeks in advance, and the day before still cannot supply a new seating chart.  When asked what time they want to schedule their moves, you quickly learn there is no correct answer.  Tomorrow?  Okay….Oh, now? Er…okay.  You today, her tomorrow, her at 1pm but before 2pm?

Remember when I asked you all not to move your phones in both email form and in person?  Then why did you move them to your new location anyway and then ask me why they aren’t working? 

Remember when I said the white jack is for voice and the black jack is for data?  Then tell me why you plugged the phone you weren’t supposed to move in the data jack then?

But here’s the best story for the day:

I walk into a managers new office who is behind schedule in packing up their things…

Cocktail Confessions: I’m here to move your phone.

Manager: Okay, but I have a problem.

CC: Er….What’s that?

M: The jacks are on the wrong side of the office. This isn’t going to work for me.  It doesn’t flow.

CC:  Um…why?  You don’t even have furniture in here yet.  Can you just move your desk over to that corner when it arrives?

M: No!  I can’t sit on that side.  How did this happen?

CC: Um..lady…I just came to move the phone from your old office to your new office.  I had nothing to do where the placement of the jacks and your desk is/was to be. 

M: Then I’ll need longer cords then and “YOU” will need to arrange them around the perimeter of my office.

CC: (Excuse me?) Okay….it’ll take me a few minutes as I need to get longer cords.

This wasn’t all that bad actually on the surface looking back and reading it, but when I got back to my department I told my peers what was going on, and one made the off handed joke “Maybe it’s Fung Shui?”, and we all laughed.

Well fast forward to 2:20pm when this manager is now ready and finally able to move throwing everyone else in a vortex of confusion.  I get up to her office to with my 25′ cable to install her phone, and as I’m in there deploying cable this manager and another woman are standing in the middle of the room holding pictures in their hands and dicussing hanging:

Manager: What do you think about here?

Lady: Not sure.  The room doesn’t balance.

M: Yes, the flow of energy is stronger here than there.

L: I agree, you need something to center the room.

You are fricken KIDDING ME?!?  It was all about Feng Shui!!! 

Oh my god…they are literally standing around and talking about the Chi of a 10′ x 12 ‘ room with a window view to a parking lot below.  I continued to do ‘my’ job, but couldn’t help but wonder if this is one of the factors that explains why we have a H.R. department of 12+ people that no one can figure out what they do half the time.  No one consulted her ahead of time about the crystal hanging and positive/negative flow of Chi when deciding to put the voice and data jacks.  How much do these people get paid again?

I guess I should just be thankful I have a job.

My life as a Facebooker (Part II)

Most adults of my generation (and I say ‘adults’ loosely) know that Facebook is a ’slightly’ grown up version of MySpace with only a 1/4 the amount of child predators and a much more streamlined interface to post more meanigless crap with.

Its a mixed blessing in disguise, and seemingly very addictive to the female gender.

I recently had the ‘displeasure’ (and that my friends is putting it lightly) of agreeing to go out with my wife one evening out to dinner and drinks with some of her friends.  Little did I know that having my teeth knocked out my Mike Tyson would have been more appealing a choice if I had to do it all over again.

See, what wasn’t told to me was that the friends of her we were going to meet were two other girlfriends of hers that she actively texts meaningless messages back and forth with along with ‘poking’, throwing virtual beads/snowball at, and passing virtual drinks to on an hourly basis.

Before we even went out that evening, my wife was on Facebook doing God knows what.  So we get to the restaraunt (read: bar) and meet her two girlfriends and one other guy she went to high school with and they begin to rehash thier glory days from 1984-1990.

Needless to say I had no clue who or what they were talking about 90% of the time, and I knew very shortly into the evening that I would have nothing to contribute because this was thier lives, not mine.

If that wasn’t bad enough then they started to talk as if they were actually currently on Facebook.  Yes, for a good chunk of the upcoming conversation that I was standing on the periphery of, they were talking about who is on FB, and comparing friend counts.  Topics like: “Did you see her profile picture?” “How many friends do you have?” “Did you get an email from so-n-so?” “Did you see that picture I sent you?”

To add insult to injury, one of the girls brought her iPhone, and before I knew it, not only were they talking about FB, then they were passing around the iPhone looking at other peoples profiles at the table as we were eating dinner.

And here’s the real kicker: it was FOUR AND A HALF HOURS!!!!!

Yes, I sat in a shitty bar for 4.5 hours listening to 4 people (3 of which I don’t know) listening and wathcing them literally talk about Facebook!!!  I sat there in utter amusement at first, but after hour number 2, I seriously didn’t think this could last much longer.  By hour number 3, I knew I was in trouble as I saw no sign of them slowing down any time soon.

Seriously….who the hell sits on Facebook in all their free time, just to schedule a night out with people you’ve been talking too on Facebook only to meet in person and CONTINUE TO TALK ABOUT IT….FOR HOURS???!!!

After my ass fell asleep from the hard stool and me getting up to stretch and dop my wife ‘hints’ I wanted to go, my amusement began to turn into anger and disgust.  By the end of the evening, two thoughts ran through my head: 1) Why did she even bother to ask me to go under these circumstances as I was going to be summarily ignored all evening, and 2) What the F does this have to say about her social life and those of her friends were the biggest highlight of the nightis passing around an iPhone to look at Facebook profiles?

OMG, I wanted to pour hot wax in my ears and gouge my eyes out.  A case of food poisoning would have been more entertaining and I was praying to all things Holy and Righteous that we were going to leave soon.  Instead of finishing this night with a little ‘romancing’ as I first envisioned, I mentally threw all that out the window and just wanted to go to bed.

When we did eventually leave…after having the waitress take our pictures so one of the girls can post them that night on FB (no…I’m not kidding…I’m dead serious), the ride home was very quiet.  I was in no mood to talk at all.  I was fricken miserable and numb after 4.5 hours of that crap.

My wife and her friends are talking about another ‘get together’ soon….I’ll tell you right now….COUNT ME OUT.

Meet your new boss, Mr. Booger

Ick.

So I’m a little grossed out today. 

There’s nothing like being in the zone at work, mind blocking the constant incomprehensible chatter of your peers when suddenly your manager decides to make his unpredictable predictable round to let you know he’s still present.

You break a focused stare from the generic 17″ LCD monitor who doesn’t give one lick about you only to look up and see your boss has stopped by your own cubicle and is about to wax yet another sleep inducing yarn followed by meanigless questions you swear you’ve answered 20 times before.

And then you see it.  Like a lighthouse in a fog bank.  The biggest booger this side of the Mississippi defying the laws of physics as it straddles invisible nose hairs while your manager begins to yammer away.

I hear nothing at first.  It’s as if the teacher from Charlie Brown’s school is speaking with a muffled “Wah…whaaa…wha” as I struggle to keep my composure.  How can he not feel this nugget of mucous obstructing his nasal passage?  Will it produce a whistling sound if he breathes hard enough?  Will it fall upon my desk in slow motion and what will it hit?  Does he walk lop-sided from the sheer weight and magnitude of this foreign object akin to an asteroid poised to strike the earth?

I nod a hurried ‘yes’ to all his questions….I have no idea what he is even asking or saying….I am mesmerized and so hoping he leaves soon enough.  I can only hope that he takes this gem home with him to share with his wife, and save me the embarassement of pointing it out.

That is why my friends, you always take an extra second or two in the restroom to gaze upon yourself in the mirror to make sure there are no foreign object dangling from our person in a professional or social setting.

“For your information, you were late today.”

…my boss pointed out to me even though she herself always comes in at 9am, 30 minutes after my scheduled arrival time.

See, I’m salaried and have this so-called ‘exempt’ status (whatever the hell that even means anyway…I’ve never really known, nor do I suppose really care) so I haven’t had to “punch-in” for about 12+ years now.

I rarely (if ever) call in sick, and chances are even if I am indeed spewing rainbow colored mucous I still manage to come in, whereas if my peers even get the beginings of a hangnail they’ll call in sick.

I even schedule Dr. appointments for my days off, and if I am stuck in traffic and know way ahead of time that I’m going to be late, I’ll call in and let them know where I am and what my estimated time of arrival is.

I believe I do my job well and very efficiently and often volunteer for additional things outside my scope because I complete my ‘regular’ work in a timely manner. 

So I was a little taken aback, insulted, and even a tad angered today at the fact one of my bosses (I have 2) mentioned to me that someone took note I arrived late today.  Yes…yed I did….by ten minutes.

I have a pretty good feeling I know who it was, although this person doesn’t have the spine or ‘hutzpah’ to tell me directly why they are so concerened. 

I wonder if that person knew I actually 5 minutes late, but was stopped in the parking lot by two other employees on their way to another building on our campus who asked me a work related question.

But I was indeed 10 minutes late when I walked in the door.

Did this person fail to mention to my boss I was late in leaving yesterday because I was working over my normal salaried time?  Did they even know (I’m guessing not, because this person left early themselves yesterday for some r-tard reason)?  Did this person state the fact that over the last few weeks I’ve even showed up 5, 10, sometimes 15 minutes early before my scheduled start time?  Is my work suffering?  Are their complaints I am unaware of seeing that I always finish my work and do more?  Should I pick my nose and play stupid like some of my peers who’ll do almost anything to avoid picking up the phone or leaving their desk when people ask for help?

How come nobody has congratulated me for being early at other times? 

Why do they even care?  If this was a pattern where I was normally late on a daily or weekly basis I could see their point.   If my work suffered, or I was an employee who ‘clocked-in’ continously late, I’d be willing to listen to these concerns.

It just really annoyed me today,…not only the triviality of it all, but the manner in which my boss delivered it….as if I was some 16 year old kid working at McDonalds at minimum wage getting a dressing down for not wearing my hairnet as I changed the fry grease.

Okay, thank you so much, no really, for sharing with me the fact that I was late a whole 10 minutes.  So what exactly happened in my absence this morning during this crucial time?  <<insert sarcastic metaphor here>>

Yeah, I’m venting right now….and it feels good doing it on the clock.

I Stink

Literally.

Or, quite literally.

It’s actually my pants, which I didn’t notice until I got to work this morning, and there is not enough cologne that can mask it from my own nose.

See, this morning I threw on a pair of black slacks…partially in the dark and I myself was still half groggy from just waking up only minutes earlier.   Granted I had indeed worn the pants yesterday, but I don’t recall running into any trouble the day before of bumping into anything or spilling on them, and I clearly hadn’t noticed the stench yesterday.

I guess I should have paid a bit more attention to why my dog was curiously sniffing my crotch at 7:15 this morning as I’m trying to rush out the door.

As I begin my 30 minute commute to work, I kept getting a whiff of something a little ‘off’, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.  It didn’t smell like anything I had smelled before, and my brain was desperately trying to make a connection from my memory archives. 

And I still hadn’t realized it was me, or more accurately, my pants until I looked down and saw multiple stains on my crocth area.  WTF?  What is that?  I scrunched my face in trying to study the patterns as if for some reason that would help…it didn’t.   I sniff again…Oh God…I realize now that it’s my pants..or these indiscernible stains.

Thankfully I have a towel in my car and a bottle of water, in which I try to dab at them.  It really insn’t working the way I had hoped….oh, they aren’t as prominent as they were before, but I am now very consciouly aware of stains in my groin area in which I am almost now to work and can’t turn back.

I find a little vial of tester cologne in my car and I spray my crotch liberally with ‘Guerlain’ by HOMME.  It helps, but only slightly masks the faint smell and does nothing for my embarrassment.

I can’t help but watch the clock tick down today so I can rush home, get out of these slacks, start a load of laundry, and soap up under a nice hot shower. 

But seriously, WTF?  I have no clue what these stains are from and how they got there.