Friday, February 02, 2007
8:26 a.m.

I have come to the conclusion that I am at my best when I am ranting about the stupidity of others.

I got an annoying call already, from one of my trashier coworkers. I don’t know what’s up with the fucking drafters. They all piss me off in some way. Finally the receptionist is back, but she’s not as good at multiple lines as I am, because I’m perfect and awesome in case you haven’t gotten that yet. So I answered the phone and am asked for my supervisor (also in charge of the drafters), and I say, “he’s in a meeting right now, do you want his voice mail?” “(Sigh) This is [drafter].” I groan internally because everything relating to this person always ends up being a giant and unnecessary bloody pain in my ass. I say, “Uh-huh…” and she goes, “I’m having trouble filling out my _______ paperwork for ____.” This is an HR thing that I probably shouldn’t disclose. She continues, “I need more forms, should I just get them from there, or do we have them?” These are state agency forms, why the fuck would we have them? I said, “you can probably just download them from their website.” Another sigh from her. “I tried that already. It didn’t work.” I said, “Hmm…well, I don’t think we would have that stuff here, you probably need to go there.” She says, “OK, I’ll just go there and get them.” I say brightly, “Ok, yeah. Usually though you should be able to download them.” And that was it. Earlier this week (when I was all alone, no receptionist OR supervisor) she hounded me about a fax she sent to HR, as in “how do I know if this went through?” I suggested that she, you know, CALL TO FIND OUT. So I ended up calling Corporate and they did not receive the fax. Then I found out that she faxed to Accounting and not the general fax number, which she blamed on the receptionist, for telling her the wrong number. Excuse me, but blaming stuff on the receptionist is MY job, bitch. Anyway, so that was a whole fiasco that could have been avoided, had she just scanned her documents and pdf’d them like any normal person after 1998. Then I had to tell her how to scan with the copier and find her document in the destination folder (which she should have known from working here for over a year). Dude, it’s not fucking brain surgery. How can office workers not know this shit? Why am I expected to hold the hands of those who don’t wish to help themselves? Where is the cognitive thinking? Where is the problem-solving ability? Have people stopped developing these skills? Are we just a nation of robotic drones, working for The Machine? I don’t want to be a part of The Machine, but I like eating and living in reasonable comfort. So until I unlock the secret of independent wealth, I will remain a minion for the Corporate Interest.