Nostalgia, DVDs, old movies, television, OTR, fandom, good news and bad, picks, pans,
cute budgie stories, cute terrier stories, and anything else I can think of.
Contact me at yetanotherjournal (at) mindspring (dot) com
. . . . .
. . . . .
» Monday, June 09, 2008How You Can Tell It's Monday
You wake up with a migraine starting, so you take something, go back to bed for fifteen minutes. When you arise again, the headache is better, but last night's dinner is coming up on you. (It didn't bother you last night, but there it is this morning. No more roasted Chinese pork from Harry's, that's for sure.)
When you get to work it's 83°F in your cubicle. You start up your system, prepare to print off the items you worked on last week (you can't print them out after you do them because then the dates in DCIS won't match the signature date), and your network printer is jammed. You search where the printer tells you to look for the jam for ten minutes. Your supervisor and someone else searches, too. No one can find the jam. You try to print on your alternate printer, but it's out of toner. There's no one to ask about the toner, and even if you knew where it was, you wouldn't know how to install it because these are new printers. You originally used to print to an old printer, but evidently the IT people changed designations on them when they got the new printers.
You try to set up another printer, but the printers on your floor do not come up in the dropdown list. Instead you are presented by a list of printers in places including Dallas and Pittsburgh.
You try to call the IT help desk and the phone tells you all circuits are busy; please try again later. So you e-mail them...and then have no options left because they won't issue you a personal printer, although everyone else has one.
And the day isn't even four hours old yet.
I love Mondays. Not.
[Later: IT support called, have printer connection again. Original printer is still whining about a paper blockage. And I'm not the worst off in cubicle/office temps here: the folks that have the window offices, which are a privilege ordinarily, could use them for hothouses. Or maybe not, because even orchids kept in my team leader's office right now would be wilting.]