I finally noticed today that the old site, Enter The Cow-orker has disappeared offline. I knew it was going to happen sooner or later (my ex-wife kept the ISP account when we separated), but somehow managed to miss when it actually went.
I don't suppose anyone remembers the last time they saw it?
(And lest anyone's worried about it being irrevocably lost, I still have all the original Cow-orker files safely backed up. Perhaps one day they'll return.)
On a cheerier note, I see Blunt Trauma will soon be celebrating it's fifth birthday. Funny, though, that it's only five years: for some reason it's felt much longer.
29 April, 2010
28 April, 2010
A cyclical model of stupidity
It's not that I'm making up for being slack lately: Ted's just on a roll at the moment.
Awash in the afterglow of his Crystal Reports nostalgia, Ted's been running everyday, non-Crystal reports to try to recapture some of that glorious high. On the bright side, he hasn't lit a cigarette yet.
(And I'm sorry but, yes, I am trying to scar you with that image).
"I don't bother checking outstanding stuff that I might have to do something with. Only the stuff that affects other people. Here's a list of things I think you might want to look into because they're overdue."
He gives the Stress Fiend a report listing all the items he thinks need to be followed up. Then he recites them to her as well, for good measure.
"Oh, and the figures I'm working from for that report are a month old, anyway, so they may not really be outstanding at all."
Awash in the afterglow of his Crystal Reports nostalgia, Ted's been running everyday, non-Crystal reports to try to recapture some of that glorious high. On the bright side, he hasn't lit a cigarette yet.
(And I'm sorry but, yes, I am trying to scar you with that image).
"I don't bother checking outstanding stuff that I might have to do something with. Only the stuff that affects other people. Here's a list of things I think you might want to look into because they're overdue."
He gives the Stress Fiend a report listing all the items he thinks need to be followed up. Then he recites them to her as well, for good measure.
"Oh, and the figures I'm working from for that report are a month old, anyway, so they may not really be outstanding at all."
Places you don't want to go
I've mentioned before about Ted E.'s unshakeable faith in the power of system-generated reports.
What I didn't mention was that I'm convinced that at some point in his life he's had either a profound religious experience in the presence of Crystal Reports.
Or perhaps a sexual one.
Either way, he once saw someone in this team use it and has continued to rhapsodize over it ever since. No-one's used it in the four years I've been here, so it obviously belongs back in the Golden Age when everything worked perfectly, no-one asked him awkward questions like "why?" (or, more appropriately, "WTF???"), and the staffing levels were bloated enough to mask a treasure trove of inefficiencies and psychopathic behaviour.
Of course, this was also the same Golden Age where the primary database had no reporting capability at all, and without a separate programme to extract information it was impossible to retreive any of the corrupt and mismatched data stored within it, but we'll overlook that for the moment.
What brought this to mind was his conversation this morning with one of the techs, in which he once again evangelised on the magic of Crystal and bemoaned the fact we once had it, still have an old copy licensed to us, and yet no-one ever uses it anymore. Quite what's preventing him from using it isn't clear (okay, it is; but let's pretend otherwise for the moment), but underpinning the whole sermon is the same burning faith that Crystal will magically pull Truth and Order from the Chaos at the simple push of a button.
No need for any kind of user input or designing of reports in the first place, of course. That kind of talk is heresy. It's already an article of faith that anything that comes out of a report is inherently True; if it comes out of Crystal Reports, then it's practically divine revelation.
Or the best sexual experience he's ever had.
What I didn't mention was that I'm convinced that at some point in his life he's had either a profound religious experience in the presence of Crystal Reports.
Or perhaps a sexual one.
Either way, he once saw someone in this team use it and has continued to rhapsodize over it ever since. No-one's used it in the four years I've been here, so it obviously belongs back in the Golden Age when everything worked perfectly, no-one asked him awkward questions like "why?" (or, more appropriately, "WTF???"), and the staffing levels were bloated enough to mask a treasure trove of inefficiencies and psychopathic behaviour.
Of course, this was also the same Golden Age where the primary database had no reporting capability at all, and without a separate programme to extract information it was impossible to retreive any of the corrupt and mismatched data stored within it, but we'll overlook that for the moment.
What brought this to mind was his conversation this morning with one of the techs, in which he once again evangelised on the magic of Crystal and bemoaned the fact we once had it, still have an old copy licensed to us, and yet no-one ever uses it anymore. Quite what's preventing him from using it isn't clear (okay, it is; but let's pretend otherwise for the moment), but underpinning the whole sermon is the same burning faith that Crystal will magically pull Truth and Order from the Chaos at the simple push of a button.
No need for any kind of user input or designing of reports in the first place, of course. That kind of talk is heresy. It's already an article of faith that anything that comes out of a report is inherently True; if it comes out of Crystal Reports, then it's practically divine revelation.
Or the best sexual experience he's ever had.
27 April, 2010
I swear, I'm not making this up.
Nor am I even lightly embellishing it.
Ted E. just dragged a tech over to his desk to help him with a computer problem, and it culminated in the tech demonstrating the awesome power of CTRL+A. Ted's now agonising over the conceptual leaps involved in being able, with a single keyboard shortcut, to select everything at once.
He reached this dizzying state of revelation after repeated failed attempts to right-click on some files (one at a time, presumably) and copy them to another location. "Copy" wasn't coming up as an option, though, so clearly there was something terribly wrong with his computer.
In fact, as it turned out, it wasn't appearing as an option because he was only right-clicking on empty space near the file.
Ted's now grappling with the terrifying implications that by invoking CTRL+A, he now has the near-godlike power to inadvertently perform the mass deletion of files. He's already begun muttering about how it's useful to know, but he thinks he'll stick with selecting them individually from now on, thank you very much, because this is all too new.
Don't ask. Really. Just ... don't ask.
On a related note, he was also quietly scheming with another tech this morning to get some lessons in how to set up clients' computers. He's realised the techs get paid substantially more than he does and, when he moves interstate at the end of the year, has ambitions of talking his way into a better-paid, part-time job at a similar organisation on the basis of his mighty computing skills.
Ted E. just dragged a tech over to his desk to help him with a computer problem, and it culminated in the tech demonstrating the awesome power of CTRL+A. Ted's now agonising over the conceptual leaps involved in being able, with a single keyboard shortcut, to select everything at once.
He reached this dizzying state of revelation after repeated failed attempts to right-click on some files (one at a time, presumably) and copy them to another location. "Copy" wasn't coming up as an option, though, so clearly there was something terribly wrong with his computer.
In fact, as it turned out, it wasn't appearing as an option because he was only right-clicking on empty space near the file.
Ted's now grappling with the terrifying implications that by invoking CTRL+A, he now has the near-godlike power to inadvertently perform the mass deletion of files. He's already begun muttering about how it's useful to know, but he thinks he'll stick with selecting them individually from now on, thank you very much, because this is all too new.
Don't ask. Really. Just ... don't ask.
On a related note, he was also quietly scheming with another tech this morning to get some lessons in how to set up clients' computers. He's realised the techs get paid substantially more than he does and, when he moves interstate at the end of the year, has ambitions of talking his way into a better-paid, part-time job at a similar organisation on the basis of his mighty computing skills.
19 April, 2010
Oops
The Stress Fiend is discovering the hard way why we don't send small items worth $3,000 through unregistered mail just because the client annoys us.
It's hard to see how this one won't come back to bite us.
It's hard to see how this one won't come back to bite us.
15 April, 2010
Ah, the suspense...
Ted E. returned from yet another week of leave on Monday. In a staggering coincidence, the Stress Fiend called in sick, appeared on Tuesday (when she knew I was going to be absent on a training course) and has been missing again for the two days since.
Cynicism levels are running high, and it's anyone's call whether she'll come in tomorrow: on the one hand, she's clearly on a roll and it's been a while since she had a good sick-leave binge; on the other, turning up on Friday and denying herself an extra-long weekend looks marginally less like malingering.
Hmm. It would also negate the need for a medical certificate, so that may tip the balance.
What I'm also half-expecting is that Ted will be "sick" tomorrow in protest.
Cynicism levels are running high, and it's anyone's call whether she'll come in tomorrow: on the one hand, she's clearly on a roll and it's been a while since she had a good sick-leave binge; on the other, turning up on Friday and denying herself an extra-long weekend looks marginally less like malingering.
Hmm. It would also negate the need for a medical certificate, so that may tip the balance.
What I'm also half-expecting is that Ted will be "sick" tomorrow in protest.
08 April, 2010
Filing in tongues
An accounts person is looking at some of Ted E.'s work he's printed out and filed, and trying to work out his filing system.
"Why doesn't he file them alphabetically?"
"He does. He just doesn't use the same alphabet as the rest of us."
(Ted is away on holiday - again - this week).
"Why doesn't he file them alphabetically?"
"He does. He just doesn't use the same alphabet as the rest of us."
(Ted is away on holiday - again - this week).
Cynicism or experience?
I realised yesterday my cynicism about management in general is hitting a low point when a friend was discussing a win-win proposal they'd taken to their manager, his apparent willingness to consider it, and promise to get back to them with a decision later in the week.
I almost replied to them with this, but held back because their optimism will be crushed soon enough without needing any contribution from me:
I almost replied to them with this, but held back because their optimism will be crushed soon enough without needing any contribution from me:
Your manager is presented with two options: one is a carefully-considered proposal that's been run past the stakeholders, benefits everyone concerned and has no discernible downsides. The other is something they picked up in a bar last night from a crazy homeless man who throws diseased sewer rats at schoolchildren in his spare time.
Based on all the evidence to date, who do you really think management are more likely to listen to?It's entirely possible, of course, that I'm projecting just a little...
07 April, 2010
Assuming the Mantle of Stupidity?
The Stress Fiend has just observed, a little peevishly, that doing things the sensible, logical and replicable way sometimes involves doing a little bit of extra work at the outset.
I'm hoping this doesn't mean she's preparing herself to assume Ted E.'s role of opposing things that make things easier in the long term.
I'm hoping this doesn't mean she's preparing herself to assume Ted E.'s role of opposing things that make things easier in the long term.
The state of things
Right, then...
Things have been quiet of late for a few reasons, at least partly because there's often a fine line separating the depressingly tragic from the painfully amusing and things have been on the wrong side of that line a little too much lately. I also took some time off for a desperately-needed sanity break before The Invertebrate heads away for a month and leaves me in charge, which is more or less a nice way of seeing that he's leaving me to be ignored by the Stress Fiend and Ted E. for a while in his place.
This does not fill me with joy, but fortunately The Invertebrate finally recognises that the two of them are essentially unmanageable (or at least beyond his abilities to do anything with) and the standards I have to meet as Acting Invertebrate haven't been set particularly high.
The big news is that Ted has finally taken the plunge and announced his retirement plans, although it would probably be more accurate to say that he's dictated his plans to The Invertebrate, who's agreed to them without reservation as the fastest way of resolving the Ted problem without having to make any real decisions. In a few weeks Ted will be going part-time before finally (hopefully) leaving at the end of the year. There's no guarantee that he actually will, of course. He may well decide that retirement's not for him, at which point I fully expect the Stress Fiend to murder him on the spot, witnesses or no.
The Invertebrate has gone on leave without really working out what comes next. In principle, I think, we're supposed to have a part-time Ted-in-training through that six-month cruise to his retirement. Or, possibly, his violent and premature death.
It's going to be a long year.
Things have been quiet of late for a few reasons, at least partly because there's often a fine line separating the depressingly tragic from the painfully amusing and things have been on the wrong side of that line a little too much lately. I also took some time off for a desperately-needed sanity break before The Invertebrate heads away for a month and leaves me in charge, which is more or less a nice way of seeing that he's leaving me to be ignored by the Stress Fiend and Ted E. for a while in his place.
This does not fill me with joy, but fortunately The Invertebrate finally recognises that the two of them are essentially unmanageable (or at least beyond his abilities to do anything with) and the standards I have to meet as Acting Invertebrate haven't been set particularly high.
The big news is that Ted has finally taken the plunge and announced his retirement plans, although it would probably be more accurate to say that he's dictated his plans to The Invertebrate, who's agreed to them without reservation as the fastest way of resolving the Ted problem without having to make any real decisions. In a few weeks Ted will be going part-time before finally (hopefully) leaving at the end of the year. There's no guarantee that he actually will, of course. He may well decide that retirement's not for him, at which point I fully expect the Stress Fiend to murder him on the spot, witnesses or no.
The Invertebrate has gone on leave without really working out what comes next. In principle, I think, we're supposed to have a part-time Ted-in-training through that six-month cruise to his retirement. Or, possibly, his violent and premature death.
It's going to be a long year.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)