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Drivel of the Day

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Another Day, Another Dollar

Just some random drivellings today.

Chicken Boy has toothache. In fact, Chicken Boy has had toothache for many days now. He sits and complains like some sort of IBM purpose-built complaining machine all afternoon. I take the moral high ground (as I so often try to do, though it’s difficult from my position as chief groom for the Prince of Darkness) and constantly badger him to go and see a doctor or the dentist. He keeps putting it off because he’s having fairly major dental work done anyway on some set date or other, and figures it’ll solve itself then. However, in the meantime, he suffers. One of the major symptoms of his toothache is my resulting earache, plus the fact that when it gets bad, he goes through mood swings that makes a PMT-crazed woman with a carving knife look positively fluffy. Anyway, he finally called his dentist today and they told him to go to the surgery at 2:10 this afternoon and they would do something. He did so, relief flooding his little poultry-features and, lo and behold, they told him the dentist was on holiday and they would book him an appointment. There is something fundamentally wrong with this world. It takes all of 2 days to order replacement computer parts that have to come from a Yak’s ass in Outer Mongolia, but woe betide anyone who has an urgent medical problem and is in pain. “Don’t forget to fill in form 37/B in triplicate and attach a copy of your birth certificate or you’re at the back of the queue again.” … “If it’s correctly filled in, we’ll slot you in on our list in, say, July? Is July good for you?” …“I’m sorry, Mr Smith, we can’t help you with that tooth because according to our records you don’t have that tooth anymore. We can’t operate on something that isn’t legally there, you see…” What the hell is the world coming to?

The more a system grows, the more complicated it gets. I’m not sure that it actually HAS to get any more complicated, but more people become involved with more ideas, and suddenly what was a gleaming six-sided shape that makes sense and everyone knows what to do with has become a multi-faceted nightmare of interconnecting cables. I cite the Corporate Suckhole we work for. When I joined this magnificent corporation, we did three types of business, each denoted by a clear three letter code. Each case within that type of business had an individual number for identity. It’s a simple system and it works. Somehow, over the past years, this has grown to us doing (pause in writing while I carry out calculations…) nine types of business and Chicken Boy and I can find 24 different Prefixes. That’s gone in four years from a total of six to a total of thirty three. Four years ago, there was one prefix for each type of business. Now they average nearly 3 each. Can you see just how complicated this is starting to get. Then, on top of that, as the market shifts, these individual cases can move from one type of business to another or from one prefix to another, or both. Holy Crap, take me now, Lord! It’s got to the point now that when anyone asks for something to be done, it can be a two minute job but take twenty minutes to find out what the hell it means first. This is also partly responsible for the Corporate Suckhole’s inability to carefully plan something and work the consequences through before it’s implemented. I am often barraged with things that ‘need to be done as soon as possible’ but those who want it done have not thought beyond the most basic of repercussions. I then begin to implement said asshat idea before realising that it would destroy our system, bring down the American Defence Network, befuddle my brain and fry a small milkmaid somewhere on the slopes of Mont Blanc. No-one ever thinks of the bloody consequences. What’s the matter with you all? How do you think it got this complicated in the first place? Through things being done without adequate forethought!!! (Side note: I do not blame The-IT-Man for this – this is a fundamental ability of Corporate Upper Echelons and their demon imp ‘yes-men’ sidekicks.

Hmmm. Looking back on that paragraph it’s a bit of a rant and not very funny. Ah well.

The Grey Boring One has just sent me a form to fill in about the quality of a training course I went on in November. I’m trying to restrain mys… Fucking boring retarded bureaucratic waste of quivering bloody flesh that he is … elf from being nasty. Ah well. Failed again. So far I filled in a form before I left the course at the end of the week. Then they sent me a further questionnaire about it by email a month later and I’ve been ignoring that since before Christmas, hoping it will go away. Now, just in case I haven’t told anyone about the course, McBoring Shite has sent me another form. Over three months after I finished the course. I can only presume that it’s taken three months to get through all the paperwork required to release the form for me to fill in. I’m going to ignore this one too and hope it goes away. If I actually print out a copy, I will have to fight the growing urge to wrap it round a screwdriver and push it into the Grey One’s nose until it scrapes against the inside of his brain pan. If I could muster up explosive diarrhoea, I’d crouch on my desk with my trousers round my ankles and aim it at him.

Hmmm. Lots of rancour here considering it was just going to be whiffle.
Incidentally, rancour is one of the best words you can ever hear from someone with a speech impediment….

Think I’ve probably exhausted the silly gland and the anger bone by now, so Moosehunter signs off once more.

Ciao…

Written by SJAT

December 20, 2009 at 11:45 am

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