Thursday, June 24, 2004
Offensive Stupidity |3:13 PM| Yesterday I was being called repeatedly by a woman demanding the toner be replaced in her printer, which also had fax capabilities. The woman was complaining of print quality issues, that portions of the pages were not being printed.
I had a tech go out, and swap the toner, but this did not resolve the issue. The real issue was that there was white-out covering parts of the scanner from documents this woman had put into it. When she tried to fax documents out to other people, parts of them were not scanned, so the recepient would have blank areas on their faxes.
This woman thought that the blank areas of sent faxes were being caused by a lack of toner in her local printer.
Earlier today I dealt with a printer by talking a woman through how to fix the issues she was having. She still demanded that I send someone out. I told her I couldn't, that were no problems with the printer. She insisted it needed to be "service" or "overhauled". I told her to call me when she had a new problem, and she replied that I wasn't listening, that I had no empathy in my voice when speaking to her.
I paused, as she had managed to offend me. This pure idiot, this pathetic wretch would not believe that I had taken care of her issues, and was insisting that I continue to waste my time, and the time of others, and when I refused insulted me deeply. I know that if I had replied in the way I wanted, I would have been fired. I put her on hold, and then sent out a technician. Had I continued to explain to this woman why this was pointless, I know I would have lost self control.
Edit: Upon reflection, I guess I didn't have any empathy in my voice when speaking to her. Her requests were so alien, so purely foolish, that I could not identify with any of her motivations. I had no empathy for her, nor do I want any. I still took this as a personal insult, and I still hope she drowns in the vicera of her loved ones.
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Wednesday, June 23, 2004
Cookie Calender |10:01 AM| How long can I last?
I'm using a single cookie as a measurement of how together I am today. I have eaten all of its comrades from the container, and I want to see how long I can go before I eat the last one. Will it be temptation? Hunger? Or will I forget and absent-mindedly eat the damn thing?
Mmmmm.
No! I mustn't give into the temptation.
Anyhow, I'm fucking bored, my job doesn't have a purpose, and I want to dislocate all of the fingers in my left hand so I can wriggle them around near people in the breakroom so they get the fuck out of my way.
Edit: As of 1:02 pm I have eaten that goddamn cookie, and it was good. Reason for eating: If I had left it out much longer it probably would have gone bad.
Tiny Story
On this page of fireworks that Vid found, I'd like to point out the description of the M-85 tank.
Emphasis mine.
I like that this tiny tank had a story, a plot, a mission that needed to be completed. It burned not just for itself, but for a greater purpose. A task assigned itself by its maker.
With each detonation of gunpowder, a tiny bit of the story is told just like the subtle motions of the hula dancer, but with more explosions and fire.
Also, I have composed a short ditty on the effects of prescription amphetamines.
Pills pills, the magical bliss;
The more you eat, the more you piss.
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Bitten |8:48 AM| Nothing quite like a horrid disease to knock you on your ass and give you a tortuous day off of work.
I spent yesterday in bed suffering through feverish nightmares, shakes, nausea, body temperature fluctuations and of course, a ridiculous splitting headache.
I can assume that all these exciting diseases are flowing forth from my increased time around campus. Not that this is a completely negative thing, as challenging one's immune system is better for your health, but I could do without the nightmares. Come to think of it, I could do without most of the symptoms, and would prefer it if I just got a phone call letting me know I was sick.
This previous Friday I was out gambling, as Joe had found us a new place to meet new people, play poker, and take all of their damn money. I was unsure of myself and brought $150, knowing that if I went below $75 I would leave.
Everytime I placed a bet, I thought to myself "If Joe could see my cards, and saw me bet this money, would he give me a disapproving look?"
Haunted by the angry face of Joe, I walked out with a little more than I had when I started. $596.
Sushi dinner on me, darlin'.
(0) comments
Offensive Stupidity |3:13 PM| Yesterday I was being called repeatedly by a woman demanding the toner be replaced in her printer, which also had fax capabilities. The woman was complaining of print quality issues, that portions of the pages were not being printed.
I had a tech go out, and swap the toner, but this did not resolve the issue. The real issue was that there was white-out covering parts of the scanner from documents this woman had put into it. When she tried to fax documents out to other people, parts of them were not scanned, so the recepient would have blank areas on their faxes.
This woman thought that the blank areas of sent faxes were being caused by a lack of toner in her local printer.
Earlier today I dealt with a printer by talking a woman through how to fix the issues she was having. She still demanded that I send someone out. I told her I couldn't, that were no problems with the printer. She insisted it needed to be "service" or "overhauled". I told her to call me when she had a new problem, and she replied that I wasn't listening, that I had no empathy in my voice when speaking to her.
I paused, as she had managed to offend me. This pure idiot, this pathetic wretch would not believe that I had taken care of her issues, and was insisting that I continue to waste my time, and the time of others, and when I refused insulted me deeply. I know that if I had replied in the way I wanted, I would have been fired. I put her on hold, and then sent out a technician. Had I continued to explain to this woman why this was pointless, I know I would have lost self control.
Edit: Upon reflection, I guess I didn't have any empathy in my voice when speaking to her. Her requests were so alien, so purely foolish, that I could not identify with any of her motivations. I had no empathy for her, nor do I want any. I still took this as a personal insult, and I still hope she drowns in the vicera of her loved ones.
(0) comments
Wednesday, June 23, 2004
Cookie Calender |10:01 AM| How long can I last?
I'm using a single cookie as a measurement of how together I am today. I have eaten all of its comrades from the container, and I want to see how long I can go before I eat the last one. Will it be temptation? Hunger? Or will I forget and absent-mindedly eat the damn thing?
Mmmmm.
No! I mustn't give into the temptation.
Anyhow, I'm fucking bored, my job doesn't have a purpose, and I want to dislocate all of the fingers in my left hand so I can wriggle them around near people in the breakroom so they get the fuck out of my way.
Edit: As of 1:02 pm I have eaten that goddamn cookie, and it was good. Reason for eating: If I had left it out much longer it probably would have gone bad.
Tiny Story
On this page of fireworks that Vid found, I'd like to point out the description of the M-85 tank.
See all guns blaze with this moving marvel! A silver flitter to whistle jet gets this dynamo moving into position before shooting a forward stream of gold sparks. A burst of silver and green flitter is shot from each side of is turret before the main annon produces a shock of silver strobe flashes. A gold spark and whistle burst sends the tank turret in a furious spin before a vertical fire of gold sparks, followed by a volley of crackle end the M-85’s engagement. Mission accomplished!
Emphasis mine.
I like that this tiny tank had a story, a plot, a mission that needed to be completed. It burned not just for itself, but for a greater purpose. A task assigned itself by its maker.
With each detonation of gunpowder, a tiny bit of the story is told just like the subtle motions of the hula dancer, but with more explosions and fire.
Also, I have composed a short ditty on the effects of prescription amphetamines.
Pills pills, the magical bliss;
The more you eat, the more you piss.
(0) comments
Bitten |8:48 AM| Nothing quite like a horrid disease to knock you on your ass and give you a tortuous day off of work.
I spent yesterday in bed suffering through feverish nightmares, shakes, nausea, body temperature fluctuations and of course, a ridiculous splitting headache.
I can assume that all these exciting diseases are flowing forth from my increased time around campus. Not that this is a completely negative thing, as challenging one's immune system is better for your health, but I could do without the nightmares. Come to think of it, I could do without most of the symptoms, and would prefer it if I just got a phone call letting me know I was sick.
This previous Friday I was out gambling, as Joe had found us a new place to meet new people, play poker, and take all of their damn money. I was unsure of myself and brought $150, knowing that if I went below $75 I would leave.
Everytime I placed a bet, I thought to myself "If Joe could see my cards, and saw me bet this money, would he give me a disapproving look?"
Haunted by the angry face of Joe, I walked out with a little more than I had when I started. $596.
Sushi dinner on me, darlin'.
(0) comments
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