Bad brogger

I’ve been a bad brogger since Thanksgiving.

Admittedly, things at work have been somewhat hectic lately, and I really have not had much time to write in my downtime; as I really haven’t had any downtime in recent days, because the holidays are upon us, and before everyone starts vanishing for indeterminate denominations of time, they want to dump as much work on my department as they can, so that they can have hopes and dreams of going into Christmas with a clear conscious.

Needless to say, I’ve actually been working while at work, way more so than usual.  I’ve even had to skip the gym once already due to the fact that the stream of work was that heavy, that I simply couldn’t afford to take my daily gym hiatus.  That, certainly didn’t make me too thrilled.

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I guess I do intimidate people at work

This is what I look like while I’m at work.  I am not having a bad day, and I have had an invigorating workout previously, meaning the day is vastly better at this time than when it started.  I’m not necessarily happy, but I’m definitely not upset or in a bad mood.

Anyway, more than I wish for it to have occurred, I’ve once again been told by one of my co-workers that has a spine, that my correspondence with work-givers has once against given off the wrong impression to one of them.  Instead of ditching the keys and coming to me directly to discuss project-related discrepancies, they have decided to maneuver around me, and try and get someone to speak to me on their behalf, citing that I was being “difficult.”

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The answer is always yes

In moments of frustration, have you ever asked the types of rhetorical questions that are directed to people responsible for said frustration, regardless of if they can even hear you or not?

“Is _____ really that difficult?”
“Is your job really that difficult?”
“Is driving a car really that hard?”
“Is it really that difficult to use your turn signal?”
“Is it really that difficult to re-rack your weights?”
“Is it really that hard to wipe down that bench?”
“Is parallel parking really that hard?”
“Is parking really that difficult?”
“Is it really that hard to check your email?”
“Are you really that stupid?”
“Are you really that dense?”
“Are you really that oblivious?”

And the list goes on and on.  I ask these kinds of things often.  Sadly, it’s taken me longer than it probably takes other people to realize that in 100% of these inquiries, the answer is always yes.

So lately, whenever I reflexively blurt out these questions, or ask these things in my head, I actually have to consciously remind myself that the answer yes.

When it comes to the rhetorical questions, inquiring about the difficulty of common human behaviors, the answer is always yes.

That being said, I am apparently very good at many, many, many difficult things.

I hope Armageddon hits the next time I take a vacation

I don’t really like to talk about my job too much, because when the day is over, there’s really nothing at all that interesting about it.  It’s about as Office Space as it gets sometimes, to be perfectly honest.

However, this week has been particularly arduous.  One of my colleagues is on, has been on, and will continue to be on an extended vacation, thus leaving my department a little short staffed.  Suffice to say, things have gotten a little hairy in their absence, and it dawned on me that such seems to always be the case whenever this colleague of mine goes on vacation.

Naturally, as easy it would be to declare such intentions as deliberate and malicious, we all know that it’s just completely freak coincidental that shit hits the fan whenever this person takes off.  Nothing against them at all, in the least bit, I like them very much quite the contrary.

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Cost vs. labor exemplified

Funny story.  One of my colleagues is on a long vacation, leaving my team of slaves short one.  Naturally, when a team’s ranks are reduced, it’s to be expected that the remaining members pick up the slack to some capacity, which is fine and all, since that’s how a team operates.  Needless to say, my workload has grown a little bit on my co-worker’s absence, but I’m alright with that, because the same can be said about the other members of my team.

However, it’s the circumstances in which my workload’s increase has come about that has me a little perplexed, which is a nicely-worded way of saying “I do not agree with the way things are, and I shake my head when I think about it.”

Basically, a number of people I work with have been tasked with removing time stamps from well over 800 JPEGs.  Be it through using the clone stamp, healing brush, liquefy tool; whatever it takes to make sure that these images no longer have time stamps on them.  Subsequently, while they are off in Photoshop lala-land, I am the one who is getting the brunt of the actual, meaningful work overflow.  I’m confident enough to say that I’m probably the most qualified to be doing the work that matters, but my current workload is looking pretty gargantuan at the moment, which doesn’t exactly make me feel peace of mind.

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The next two months are going to suck

The Starbucks I go to every morning when I go to work has closed down for renovations.  They estimate that they will be back open in July.

This is pretty much the worst news I’ve heard in my entire life and I am legitimately upset over this recent development.

Honestly, I don’t really know what to do moving forward.  I can handle the interruption of my morning ritual, but I can’t handle the denial of a consistent delivery of caffeine.  As much as I may bitch and whine about all the students and corporate stiffs who get there before I do and plug up the lines, I’ve literally gone to this Starbucks almost every single work day, and quite a few weekend days that I’ve happened to be in the neighborhood.  I can probably count on one hand how many work days in which I did not go to Starbucks.

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Oh, Georgia

It’s that time of the year again: where you’re probably at work, and I am not, for today is the recognized Confederate Memorial Day.

It’s a paid day off, so I’m not complaining about that part, but it never fails to amuse me when one of the Mondays of April is recognized as such an ironic day of remembrance.  Sometimes, it’s hard to believe people who publicly exclaim their excitement of the approaching holiday, because they’re not really paying attention to why we’re getting the day off, as much of the knowledge that it’s a day off.

Ironic in that regard, is the fact that it’s unavoidable to not acknowledge that Atlanta is a very predominantly black city, and there were people in my office who happen to be black, being overheard talking about how they couldn’t wait for the “holiday weekend,” because it meant having an extra day off, and their subsequent plans to accommodate the extra time.

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