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Ship of Fools is Sinking

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Well this is it. The rats abandoning the sinking ship have reached biblical proportions. Almost everyone I was good friends with has gone. Chicken Boy is now on his way out. I am the fourth longest-serving member of staff in this office. Abandon ship! All hands to the lifeboats!

Incidentally, in my other life (the one where I’m at home and calm) I’m a fanatic on Roman History. For American readers, the Romans were around before history began in 1776. Sorry, but a friend of mine once went round a US museum and was amused to find an exhibit marked ‘Prehistoric Canoe’ which was dated from the mid 1700s! Hell, why am I incapable of being nice? And I’m trying so hard.

Mrs Moosehunter has, this morning, been working on our wedding list for August. She’s been slinging all sorts of ideas for electrical gadgets my way. She knows me so well. She’s probably written them all down before asking me whether I want one. She knows the answer. I’m a sucker for a gift. Picture this: “How about a portable wildebeeste wrangling kit?” … “Boy howdy, lets have one of those!” None of the things she’s read to me sound like traditional crap. She’s not once said ‘Dining service?’ This leads me to suspect she’s just humouring me and filing in a real list where I won’t find it. I shall be dreadfully disappointed if I go through the wedding gifts and don’t find my Wildebeeste wrangling kit. There will be a break in this diary for most of August due to wedding stuff.

(Shhh. Don’t tell Mrs Moosehunter, but I’ve got to update with the funny wedding crap as it happens, and the honeymoon … wonder if they have Internet Cafes in Egypt?)

That’s it, by the way. My dad’s achieved the two things his life revolves around and that means he’s essentially better. Basically, he went to the village pub four days out of five (Mondays it’s closed) and, although he wasn’t drinking a lot, it was a sign of old times returning. In a village the size of ours, the pub is an essential social centre. The other one occurred yesterday with only one minor falling over. He washed his car. For two months he has been house-bound or hospitalised and throughout this time, his nice black 4 wheel drive has gradually been getting dirtier. He’s obsessive over his car being clean, and it shows how unwell he was that it never bothered him until a week ago when he came out of hospital basically well. Since then, he has been unable to walk past it without commenting almost in tears on the state of the car. Although he’s suffering today from the expenditure of effort, the car is clean. Think I’ll go over tonight with a bucket of mud.

I’ve added a link to my notes now at the bottom of the page. Feel free to use if, even if it’s to say that I wear a wig and smell of fish!

What is it with wireless technology? I like wireless mice and keyboards in principle. At home, they can be a godsend, when it’s too far from the couch to the table or the table’s occupied by bacon fries and beer and you don’t want a cable to pour Kronembourg 1664 into your lap. At work, in a large room full of 20 or so workstations, do we REALLY want them all on wireless. Every now and then, the frequencies seem to change and cross. This essentially means that subject A is trying to add a new quote, while subject B is looking at naked pictures of Neve Campbell. Subject A moves the mouse pointer to print off the quote and subject B wonders why the pointer has suddenly covered Neve’s nipple. Is this a practical joke? Are the secret services watching him? So he moves it back and, for the laugh, prods her bits with the mouse pointer. Subject A now wonders why the mouse pointer has shot across the screen. Cue the mad ‘moving each other’s mouse pointer’ game until they both give up, screaming and call for me. I travel up to the other floor and try to reset the frequencies. Blasted things. Use a wire!

Incidentally, on Tuesday, I was given one of those machines that prints little sticky labels to catalogue all our office’s electrical equipment. I’m sure you can imagine in the hands of the Moosehunter what joy this brought. Chicken Boy got a sticker that said ‘ALIEN’. Pencils got labelled ‘PENCIL’. It was great. Until this morning when I realised that for two days I’ve been wandering around with stickers on the inside of each lapel that said respectively ‘BOLLOX’ and ‘SAVE ME’. I have no idea how many people have now seen these. I spent a lot of time in Director Goboilyourhead’s room yesterday, so he may have noticed them. If that’s the case, he’s been sympathetic enough to not mention it. So, obviously, he never noticed!

The keyboard on my laptop is going. It’s incredibly inconvenient to only have a right-hand ‘Ctrl’ key. Try it. Try locking your desktop, logging in, copying, pasting etc with only the right control key. Bastard thing. I think the delete key is going too.

So with that, I think I’ll sign off for today.

Moosehunter.

Post-script: Upon changing the backup tape on our server before leaving work I notice that our UPS (Uninterruptable Power Supply or, in essence, battery) said the following:

“Automatic Self Test Started. Press Any Key.”

What kind of bloody stupid automated process requires a human to press a key. Stupid goddamn technology. As I always said, if it can’t be made out of wood, string and rubber bands, do away with it!

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Written by SJAT

December 20, 2009 at 12:52 pm

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