More own worst enemies, and own-goals

The Stress Fiend, as I've mentioned, has an unerring ability to not only make her own job harder, but that of everyone else that comes into contact with her. I haven't done one of these for a very long time, so here's a pop quiz.

You're a technical support person, whose job it is to install software on a client's computer. To do this, you need  the following basic information:

• who is the client;
• what software are they allowed to have; and
• what serial numbers do they need to activate the software?

Keeping that in mind, which way of presenting the information is more useful to you? Grouping it by:

1. software title and version;
   or
2. an internal reference number generated by an in-house system to which you don't have access?

Now, the thing is that the way the Stress Fiend has organised this information (and I'm going to let you work out which option she's chosen) isn't even useful or convenient to us, so it's not like she's even just being too lazy to or disorganised to make it accessible to others: she's actively chosen to organise it in a way that's of no benefit to anyone at all.

Ted's touched on this before (not because he has any opinion about the way the information should be presented for the tech staff, but because he feels we shouldn't be doing it at all, although he's yet to suggest how they're supposed to get the information they need) and the Stress Fiend's argument at the time was that it allowed for "better control". I don't know of what, though. We already have that data organised in a more useful and accessible form in our primary database for our use, and the tech staff don't have write-access to be able to tinker with the information we make available to them, so ... I don't know. Really, I don't. It's one of those leaps of logic (or stress-induced psychosis) that I'm just not capable of following and really don't want to follow.

**********

And while we're on the subject of demented workmates, as opposed to the merely incompetent or psychopathic, she's managed to score another own-goal despite her absence for the last three days at a training course. Or, at least, that's where we thought she was. The trainer called this afternoon to tell The Invertebrate that the Stress Fiend has missed the last day of the course (along with the exam on its content), still has most of the training material with her, and how would The Invertebrate like to proceed?

The Invertebrate visibly rocked back in his chair, and is now wondering if and when the Stress Fiend ever planned to tell him she'd missed a day of the course at all.

Her own worst enemy

I'm sure I've mentioned before that the Stress Fiend is her own worst enemy. I know she likes to imagine that role is already taken by Ted E. and our clients, but when it comes to making her own life harder there's really no-one who can hold a candle to her.

For instance, after the conversation she just had with The Invertebrate, I'm now wondering just how long it will take for her loud and unambiguous reference to Ted as "numbnuts" in Ted's hearing to come back and bite her.

On writing notes, and knowing when not to ask questions

The Invertebrate tries to slip away quietly for lunch, but makes the mistake of saying so aloud.

"Oh," says Ted, looking up from where he's busy scribbling away at something, "I was writing you a note."

(Notes are Ted's latest way of trying to pass a problem on to someone else without giving them the opportunity to pass it back to them. He waits until their back is turned, slips it on to their desk and then runs away. If they don't notice, he'll mention it as he slinks out the door in the afternoon. His notes appear without any kind of context or explanation, so I routinely ignore them. The Invertebrate is still a bit further back on the learning curve.)

The Invertebrate pauses. "What was it about?"

Ted realises the by telling someone he's writing them a note, he's just undermined his own strategy.

"Oh. Oh, nothing. You go to lunch. It can wait."

The Invertebrate persists. "It's okay, I'm not gonna starve. Shoot."

"Um, I'm still finishing the note."

"You don't need to write a note. Just tell me."

"I'll tell you while I write." 

The Invertebrate soon wishes he was starving to death, because it has to be preferable to what follows.

Even under optimal conditions Ted's writing is slow and incoherent. Worse, he's even less capable of multi-tasking than most people: he can't talk any faster than he writes and, if he tries to utter aloud, any word other than the one he's in the process of writing, his brain breaks and he has to pause and start again.

After many stops and starts (punctuated by increasingly indignant growls from The Invertebrate's stomach) Ted's note boils down to this: one client has placed the same request seven times over the last working day.  Ted doesn't understand why. Rather than ring the client to see what they're doing, he wants The Invertebrate to do it for him.

The Invertebrate, broken by the ordeal, agrees to do so and staggers off to lunch. Surprisingly, he actually comes back afterward.

Not our usual vendor spam

I think our spam filters must have fallen over during the night, because in amongst all the legitimate email (which, honestly, is a misleading way of looking at it given how little meaningful content there is in any of it) there are a couple of gems of internet marketing.

Really, who wouldn't be persuaded by the offerings like "Love Tsunami!", "Forces donger to go up" (although, on reflection, that seems like it might be potentially painful for all concerned) and "Bulldozer lovepower" (even if that last one sounds like something a Japanese cartoon character would should during a fight scene)?

Amusing as these are, though, I just wish Ted would stop using the group email address to log into adult websites.