The Stress Fiend is off yet again (she's nominally working three-day weeks at the moment, struggles to manage even that consistently, but refuses to admit that there's a problem) and Ted's treating that and everything else as a personal affront.
He's sulking at the moment after trying to pass a couple of clients off to someone else to deal with, only to have them insist he actually direct them to the right section instead of just forwarding the calls through to the first technically-minded person he has line-of-sight on.
Many great, world-weary sighs ensue.
The Invertebrate: "That kind of thing needs to go to the tech support guys."
Ted: "Who are the tech support guys?"
The Invertebrate waves his hand absently over the cubicle wall towards the desktop support team who've sat adjoining our area for at least the last five years. "Those guys, Ted. Those guys."
* I know, I know. This doesn't seem like something he should have to work at, but he's not content with just lying and saying "I don't know" and always over-reaches and tries to convince people that not only does he not know, he's never known, and has never been given any reason to think that this is something he could reasonably be expected to know or find out about any time in the several years he's been here. It's probably the only aspect of his job where he's actually set the bar too high for himself.
1 comment:
Missed you.
Thanks for the update.
Sean
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