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Soulless Corporation and the Mole

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Moleman and the Asshats must die.

The printer… Oh dear lord the printer! I sat at my desk, concentrating on something and he shuffled awkwardly over to the printer like a penguin with some debilitating neural-control disease. He stood for a moment, staring in befuddlement at it. Then he commenced opening and closing the paper tray.

Click! … Sliiiiiiide… BANG!

Click! … Sliiiiiiide… BANG!

Click! … Sliiiiiiide… BANG!

Click! … Sliiiiiiide… BANG!

Click! … Sliiiiiiide… BANG!

Now this is repetitive and extremely loud and irritating. I mean this wasn’t measured in decibels, but on the Richter scale. And it went on, and on, and on… for around 5 minutes. I tried sooo hard to ignore it despite the headache inducing power of the Mole. Under my breath I continually muttered ‘shut the f*** up!’

And eventually he stopped. There was a pause of a couple of seconds while I waited with bated breath… and then:

“uh.. uh.. uh.. Moosehunter?”

“YES!” (a barked reply)

“uh.. uh.. uh.. it doesn’t seem to be printing.”

Now normally I try not to exchange a single word with this freak of nature. Being remotely polite merely leads to extended periods of pointless drivel. In this case, I went the other way.

“Perhaps you broke it by repeatedly slamming the tray in?”

I rise, grumpily, and head over to look at the display.

“It’s wanting you to insert letter-sized paper, Moleman. Opening and slamming the tray isn’t going to make that go away.”

So I go to his pc and reformat his document to print on A4 and… whaddya know? It prints instantly, with no need to slam anything. If he would take the time to read what is written on the display in clear English, he could have avoided all of this.

On top of this, he’s annoyed me today in other ways. He may be the most tactless man possible. On one particularly cold and icy day a couple of weeks ago he assured me that Mrs M and I would be ok that day because we were quite lucky and didn’t have a car. Asshat! There’s nothing guaranteed to make me jovial like telling me we’re lucky that we wrote out car off. Then today he asked me if we let our dogs off the lead yet. I said “No” because one-syllable words are the most he generally gets out of me. He took a deep breath and then rattled off into a long story about a friend of his that let her Afghan hound off the leash and it got run over and was a real mess. Well thanks for that Moley. You’re a real uplifting conversationalist you know?

He also tried to make me bet whether there was anyone in modern Britain called Ebenezer. Like I care?

Also, the-IT-man and I are currently involved in a cold war with the Asshats in control of Soulless Corporation TM once again. I write queries in MS Access on a daily basis. These aren’t small beginner queries either. These are queries that push the ability of Access to its very limits to deliver. They are complex enough that if I leave them alone during design for an hour I have to pretty much start again. And it can take a long time to get them working exactly right, especially when the goalposts move every other day as though being pushed together by a car crusher. So despite the needs for the queries changing daily, I got the biggie sorted in January. And yesterday was slammed in a management meeting by said Asshats who had no confidence in the results the queries produce! So today I have thoroughly checked the results and guess what? They all agree and are correct! There was only one erroneous piece of data and that was the fault of whoever put duplicate values into our database to start with. I realise at this point that this is no longer funny, but then I don’t find it funny either. In Soulless Corporation TM, the system goes a little like this:

  • Asshat: I want a report that shows me x.
  • Moosey: What criteria do you want to use?
  • Asshat: Criteria? Oh I don’t know.
  • Moosey then walks them through how to decide what they actually want and then goes away to write the query. Some time later query is produced and run.
  • Asshat: Oh. That’s not what I wanted. Did I say x? I meant y.
  • Moosey then goes and rebuilds the whole damn thing. Produce. Run.
  • Asshat: Can you make it tell me z too?
  • Rebuild query. Produce. Run.
  • Asshat: Can you change it so it only shows me dates a to c?
  • Rebuild. Produce. Run.
  • Asshat: That’s perfect. Exactly what we want.
  • (Two weeks pass)
  • Asshat: That query of yours? I ran it on Q and it was blank?
  • Moosey: Q has no business that fit your criteria.
  • Asshat: Can you make it tell me that instead of being blank?
  • Rebuild. Produce. Run.
  • Asshat: That’s what I wanted. Thanks.
  • (At this point we have reached this week.)
  • Asshat: Your query hasn’t produced the results I expected. It’s wrong. I have no confidence in your query.
  • Moosey checks it all and it is entirely correct.
  • (Now, and going forward is my projected next two days)
  • Asshat: I don’t believe it works no matter how much you check it and I am too important to produce actual examples of what I expect to see so that you can work any of this out. I’m rubbishing you to everyone with any level of importance.
  • Moosey. DIE, FAT PIG!!! (Pushes Asshat backwards into a previously prepared chair fitted with a claymore mine.)
  • Asshat becomes the office redecoration.
  • End of story.

Honestly, it’s going to come to that soon. It’s a damn good job that the-IT-man and I have each other to rely on I think. Every time one of us reaches explosive point, the other calms things and pulls it all back together. This time it was him. Thanks man. Without your support I’d already have the claymore mine and the sewing kit.

I expect funny will be forthcoming, but for now, I’m going to sign off fuming slightly less than I was this morning. Cathartic this diary thing, isn’t it?



Written by SJAT

January 27, 2010 at 2:32 pm

One Response

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  1. Bless you. While I don’t know anything about your job, I worked around aerospace for a couple of years…



    March 3, 2010 at 3:52 am

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