This isn't so much a return in the sense that a particular person is coming back after having been absent, so much as it is a return in the slasher/horror tradition; in Scream 2, Scream 3, etc the killer returns, but it's not really the killer, because the real killer died in the previous movie, it's an honorary. They inherit the mask, the knife, what have you, and they assume the mantle.
It turns out we've got a contender. Nothing definitive, I don't want to get anyone too excited, but he doesn't seem overly bright, is all I'm saying.
Please read the email exchange below, and let me know what you think:
Updated cxl/rbks
Hi Simon
I found two trades booked with an incorrect price, I have cancelled and rebooked them. Can you please settle the trades to clear your cash breaks?
Thank you,
Tom
RE:Updated cxl/rbks
Hi Tom,
Will do. If I have any questions I'll be sure to let you know once I am completing this.
Thank you,
Simon
He's still got some work to do, no doubt, but he's heading in the right direction. Also, I'm not as worked up about this as some of you might anticipate, because Simon isn't in my group (limiting my contact with him) and I am not responsible for the quality of his work (limiting my frustration), so I can enjoy the stupidity from a distance.
-t
Showing posts with label stupid kid. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stupid kid. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
News from the underground
Ok, just before I left my old job the group structure looked a little like this:
management:
hypermanager & the kid that I hate
then
seniors:
me, the vietnamese girl, & the quiet girl
then
rank and file:
lurch, pony boy, the stupid kid, the bible guy,
& the kid that I didn't hate
I left, and the vietnamese girl left, the kid that I hate transferred to another group.
All of our funds were passed down to the rank and file, and all other responsibilities were passed up to the quiet girl and hypermanager. They both were recently promoted one step each.
I have just learned that the kid I didn't hate is leaving that group on friday. I have also learned that pony boy is sick and tired of assuming more and more responsibility and wants to get the hell out. He is interviewing all week.
The group has not picked up any new employees. When they both are gone the group will look like this:
management:
senior hypermanager, quietmanager
rank and file:
lurch, bible guy, the stupid kid
You might be able to look back through the archives and find a post or two where I state that I hope the group goes down in flames after I left it.
It has.
-t
management:
hypermanager & the kid that I hate
then
seniors:
me, the vietnamese girl, & the quiet girl
then
rank and file:
lurch, pony boy, the stupid kid, the bible guy,
& the kid that I didn't hate
I left, and the vietnamese girl left, the kid that I hate transferred to another group.
All of our funds were passed down to the rank and file, and all other responsibilities were passed up to the quiet girl and hypermanager. They both were recently promoted one step each.
I have just learned that the kid I didn't hate is leaving that group on friday. I have also learned that pony boy is sick and tired of assuming more and more responsibility and wants to get the hell out. He is interviewing all week.
The group has not picked up any new employees. When they both are gone the group will look like this:
management:
senior hypermanager, quietmanager
rank and file:
lurch, bible guy, the stupid kid
You might be able to look back through the archives and find a post or two where I state that I hope the group goes down in flames after I left it.
It has.
-t
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
It'll be a long time
Friday night: Drinking festivities.
Notable appearances: the stupid kid, not so pretty girl, lurch, the kid that I hate
Notable non-appearances: hypermanager, pony boy, cancerface, johnny bombay, adina, crazy blog stalker people.
We got there at about seven. The Red Sox were on. I remember very little past the fourth inning (and I'm told the game went to thirteen innings).
Stupid kid said not one word to me. Showed up, ate some buffalo wings, and left. Not a "hello" not a "goodbye." Nothing. I was surprised, but really, I don't care.
I do know that I had at least one shot (some very good kind of tequila), that I turned down at least one shot, and that there was no point in the evening I did not have a glass of Guiness in (at least one of) my hand(s).
----we interrupt this hazy recollection (if you can call it that) of a drunken night at a pub to bring you late breaking details----
Upon further reflection I have realized that the shot I turned down was bought by the kid that I hate.
This is bad for a number of reasons. First: I hate him. This is the kid I saw walking around the office my very first day and thought "I hate him." The kid who was later transferred into my group, at which point I thought "I'll give him another chance," and did, and turns out, yes, I was right. I hate him.
Second: The kid that I hate always buys shots. He spends at least half his monthly earnings getting wasted at bars on weekday nights. He buys shots. It's all he does. No, that's wrong. He buys shots, takes them, and then gets wildly inappropriate, beligerant, and obnoxious.
Third: I mentioned I was at no point without a Guiness, right? Because that's important.
The kid I hate bought shots of something stupid. Possibly (probably) something with Jagermeister. He insisted everyone do a shot. I refused.
I said "No. I don't want it." I said "No. I have a beer." I said "No."
You remember those Nancy Reagan commercials from the eighties that ran in between episodes of Gem and the Gummi Bears? You remember.
Dear Nancy Reagan, I have a message for you:
"Just Say No." DOESNT WORK.
The kid that I hate did not take "no" for an answer. He kept handing me the shot, I kept sliding it down the table away from me. He would pick it up and give it back to me. This happened (not kidding) twelve times.
I'm just sitting there, right? Enjoying my last beer with a coworker (who I DON'T hate), and trying (hazily) to enjoy the Red Sox game. Stop handing me that shot. Stop talking to me. While you're at it, why not just go home so I never have to see you again?
Did the kid I hate leave me alone? No.
I thought I had won. I slid that shot away from me the last time and I honestly thought he would take no for an answer. He picked it up, and turned away from me, toward the bar, then turned back and...
DUMPED THE SHOT INTO MY BEER
WTF?!
Do NOT pour shots into my beer! Do NOT mess with my Guiness! YOU JUST RUINED A DRINK I HAD BEEN ENJOYING YOU ASSHOLE.
Can you believe it? I absolutely hate that kid. Punch-him-in-the-face-if-I-hadn't-been-that-drunk hate. Kick-his-ass-on-the-spot-if-I-weren't-so-disoriented hate. I couldn't believe it.
Um, but, well. Just to illustrate how drunk I was... I, finished the beer.
What is wrong with me?
Was it the two other people at the table who looked at me, shrugged as if to say "Yes, he ruined your beer, but you're here to get wasted, aren't you? We're here to get wasted, and at the very least hoped to see you get tanked too, otherwise why are you sucking down the free Guinesses we keep spotting you?" and actually said "You do have to finish it." As if their opinion somehow mad the beer less-ruined.
Was it that I was already so drunk that I forgot that three seconds ago someone had poured a shot of who-knows-what into my drink?
Did I just not care?
(It was option B. I'd forgotten what had happened three seconds prior after being distracted by the Sox game, or someone tapping me on the shoulder, or blinking.)
So, when I say I turned down at least one shot, that's true. But I still ended up drinking it.
Gross.
Most of the night is a blur. I'm sure I called some people on the phone, I am not sure that I spoke to anyone, or that I spoke coherently. I think I left right after the game, without saying goodbye to anyone. I slept until one the next day.
I came into work Monday and not so pretty girl asked if I had a good time. I said "I honestly can't remember anything after the fourth inning."
She said, "You had a good time."
-t
Notable appearances: the stupid kid, not so pretty girl, lurch, the kid that I hate
Notable non-appearances: hypermanager, pony boy, cancerface, johnny bombay, adina, crazy blog stalker people.
We got there at about seven. The Red Sox were on. I remember very little past the fourth inning (and I'm told the game went to thirteen innings).
Stupid kid said not one word to me. Showed up, ate some buffalo wings, and left. Not a "hello" not a "goodbye." Nothing. I was surprised, but really, I don't care.
I do know that I had at least one shot (some very good kind of tequila), that I turned down at least one shot, and that there was no point in the evening I did not have a glass of Guiness in (at least one of) my hand(s).
----we interrupt this hazy recollection (if you can call it that) of a drunken night at a pub to bring you late breaking details----
Upon further reflection I have realized that the shot I turned down was bought by the kid that I hate.
This is bad for a number of reasons. First: I hate him. This is the kid I saw walking around the office my very first day and thought "I hate him." The kid who was later transferred into my group, at which point I thought "I'll give him another chance," and did, and turns out, yes, I was right. I hate him.
Second: The kid that I hate always buys shots. He spends at least half his monthly earnings getting wasted at bars on weekday nights. He buys shots. It's all he does. No, that's wrong. He buys shots, takes them, and then gets wildly inappropriate, beligerant, and obnoxious.
Third: I mentioned I was at no point without a Guiness, right? Because that's important.
The kid I hate bought shots of something stupid. Possibly (probably) something with Jagermeister. He insisted everyone do a shot. I refused.
I said "No. I don't want it." I said "No. I have a beer." I said "No."
You remember those Nancy Reagan commercials from the eighties that ran in between episodes of Gem and the Gummi Bears? You remember.
Dear Nancy Reagan, I have a message for you:
"Just Say No." DOESNT WORK.
The kid that I hate did not take "no" for an answer. He kept handing me the shot, I kept sliding it down the table away from me. He would pick it up and give it back to me. This happened (not kidding) twelve times.
I'm just sitting there, right? Enjoying my last beer with a coworker (who I DON'T hate), and trying (hazily) to enjoy the Red Sox game. Stop handing me that shot. Stop talking to me. While you're at it, why not just go home so I never have to see you again?
Did the kid I hate leave me alone? No.
I thought I had won. I slid that shot away from me the last time and I honestly thought he would take no for an answer. He picked it up, and turned away from me, toward the bar, then turned back and...
DUMPED THE SHOT INTO MY BEER
WTF?!
Do NOT pour shots into my beer! Do NOT mess with my Guiness! YOU JUST RUINED A DRINK I HAD BEEN ENJOYING YOU ASSHOLE.
Can you believe it? I absolutely hate that kid. Punch-him-in-the-face-if-I-hadn't-been-that-drunk hate. Kick-his-ass-on-the-spot-if-I-weren't-so-disoriented hate. I couldn't believe it.
Um, but, well. Just to illustrate how drunk I was... I, finished the beer.
What is wrong with me?
Was it the two other people at the table who looked at me, shrugged as if to say "Yes, he ruined your beer, but you're here to get wasted, aren't you? We're here to get wasted, and at the very least hoped to see you get tanked too, otherwise why are you sucking down the free Guinesses we keep spotting you?" and actually said "You do have to finish it." As if their opinion somehow mad the beer less-ruined.
Was it that I was already so drunk that I forgot that three seconds ago someone had poured a shot of who-knows-what into my drink?
Did I just not care?
(It was option B. I'd forgotten what had happened three seconds prior after being distracted by the Sox game, or someone tapping me on the shoulder, or blinking.)
So, when I say I turned down at least one shot, that's true. But I still ended up drinking it.
Gross.
Most of the night is a blur. I'm sure I called some people on the phone, I am not sure that I spoke to anyone, or that I spoke coherently. I think I left right after the game, without saying goodbye to anyone. I slept until one the next day.
I came into work Monday and not so pretty girl asked if I had a good time. I said "I honestly can't remember anything after the fourth inning."
She said, "You had a good time."
-t
Monday, April 24, 2006
No more mondays either.
Friday was like "be nice to the new guy day." I was invited out to lunch by a guy in the other group, then invited out for a cigarette by not-so-pretty-girl, and the-guy-who-loves-cars-just-a-little-too-much.
I accepted both invitations because none of those people are in my group, and I generally don't hate people who aren't in my group.
I'm convinced the invitations were sparked by equal parts (a) they don't think I'm a bad guy, and (b) I'm leaving, so they want to know if I've got any dirt on my coworkers.
So we had fun bashing the stupid kids in my group. It was like, the most fun I've had at work since... Probably ever.
The stupid kid stories were enough to convince car-guy not to apply for the senior position I'm vacating. He was all "I'm thinking about a change, but after those stories...maybe I should look someplace else." It was a validating moment. Sort of. It also highlights how awful it really must be, and how stupid I am to have stayed this long.
Friday night we went out to a bar, only a handful of people came, and I got pre-tty drunk. I remember very little past the fourth inning of the Red Sox game except that (1) there were shots (2) I drank at least one shot (3) I turned down at least one shot (4) I was never without a guiness in my hand and (5) the sox game went to something like the thirteenth inning.
Notable personalities at the send-off were:
The stupid kid - who showed up, didn't say one word to me, ate buffalo wings, and left
Lurch - who showed up, said two words to me, had a beer, and left
The kid that I hate - who ordered shots for everyone, three times, ordered bud lights for everyone twice, and almost got kicked out of the bar once for being drunk, disorderly, and inappropriate
Notable abscences were:
hypermanager, Cancerface, Johnny Bombay, Adina, all of my crazy blog stalkers, and maybe some other people I wasn't sober enough to remember.
Anyway. Few people, lots of beer, next to zero recollection. So I guess it was a good night.
-t
I accepted both invitations because none of those people are in my group, and I generally don't hate people who aren't in my group.
I'm convinced the invitations were sparked by equal parts (a) they don't think I'm a bad guy, and (b) I'm leaving, so they want to know if I've got any dirt on my coworkers.
So we had fun bashing the stupid kids in my group. It was like, the most fun I've had at work since... Probably ever.
The stupid kid stories were enough to convince car-guy not to apply for the senior position I'm vacating. He was all "I'm thinking about a change, but after those stories...maybe I should look someplace else." It was a validating moment. Sort of. It also highlights how awful it really must be, and how stupid I am to have stayed this long.
Friday night we went out to a bar, only a handful of people came, and I got pre-tty drunk. I remember very little past the fourth inning of the Red Sox game except that (1) there were shots (2) I drank at least one shot (3) I turned down at least one shot (4) I was never without a guiness in my hand and (5) the sox game went to something like the thirteenth inning.
Notable personalities at the send-off were:
The stupid kid - who showed up, didn't say one word to me, ate buffalo wings, and left
Lurch - who showed up, said two words to me, had a beer, and left
The kid that I hate - who ordered shots for everyone, three times, ordered bud lights for everyone twice, and almost got kicked out of the bar once for being drunk, disorderly, and inappropriate
Notable abscences were:
hypermanager, Cancerface, Johnny Bombay, Adina, all of my crazy blog stalkers, and maybe some other people I wasn't sober enough to remember.
Anyway. Few people, lots of beer, next to zero recollection. So I guess it was a good night.
-t
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Sail On
Our cool manager, Mike, is moving to New York. The stupid kid decided to do something about it.
Last week the he forwarded an email conversation he’d had with the managers of the other group on the floor. This was the intro to the email:
From: the stupid kid
To: Tom, Lurch, Pony Boy, Hypermanager, Quiet Girl, Guy that I hate
Please read up from the bottom to follow the conversation. Thanks.
-the stupid kid-
Thanks for the tip, stupid kid, none of us has ever seen email before.
Rather than present the rest of the email as it was sent (bottom up) I will share it top down, for your convenience:
From: the stupid kid
To: Hilary, the other manager
Subject: Cake!
Hillary, I was just looking at that website. Doesn't the cake on this ship (click the third pic from the left on the bottom) look a lot like the company logo? http://www.partyfavorsbrookline.com/Default.aspx?tabid=49&cid=7&sid=0&ProductID=795&page=0
They can mimic designs that we bring to them. So I'm sure they could do a closer rendition of our logo.
They had a photo fo an NY city cake design in the store too. I thought it would be cool to see if they could make a good looking company ship combined with a vista of NY city. Perhaps the ship could be in the harbor.
Like the cake in this image, we could have some writing. Perhaps something like "Sail On Mike!" or something like that. Just a thought.
-the stupid kid-
From: Hilary
To: the stupid kid, the rest of her group
Subject: RE: Cake!
Would everyone pitch in $40 for this cake for Mike?
We're just trying to get a consensus of who would eat/pay this much - please keep in mind that we'll probably do a small gift as well.
Please let the stupid kid know.
Thank you!
Hilary
From: the stupid kid
To: Hilary, the rest of her group
Subject: RE: Cake!
If anyone has alternative suggestions or ideas, please feel free to air them. Our choices aren't limited to duplicates from the website ( http://www.partyfavorsbrookline.com/ ) designs. I think it serves as a good reference point though and may inspire you to have more ideas.
If there are any artists in the groups, we can ask the store to copy any drawings we supply. Price depends in part on how detailed you want to make it. Though if it goes a little over, I don't mind picking up the difference.
Wednesday would be the deadline to order, but if everyone agrees on a plan of action, I'd like to place the order after work on Tuesday just to be safe
-the stupid kid-
From: the stupid kid
To: everyone
Subject: FW: Cake!
Please read up from the bottom to follow the conversation. Thanks.
-the stupid kid-
From: The Quiet Girl
To: everyone
Subject: RE: Cake!
stupid kid,
I'd be happy to chip in some money, just let me know how much and when to get it to you. Also, as far as the cake design, you could bring the cake place a sample letterhead (I'm sure Hypermanager has one), which would have the company logo on it. Just a thought!
From: the stupid kid
To: Quiet Girl, everyone
Subject: RE: Cake!
Quiet Girl,
I know Lurch likes the idea of having Mike's photo on the cake. He can show it to you on his cell phone. I'd say that if everyone chips in $4.00 that should more than cover it. If everyone is okay with this, just give it to Hillary when a final decision is made.
If anyone else has any ideas, please share them with the rest of us by forwarding the response to the people I'm sending this to. DON'T SEND IT TO MIKE!
But keep in mind that this is supposed to be a SECRET, even though Mike is surely expecting something. So how about if from now on the code word for cake is "candy dish." That way if Mike overhears, he'll think we're discussing stuff to put in Not So Pretty Girl's Bowl.
-the stupid kid-
A few brief notes:
-I included the links so you can see exactly what he’s talking about
-the entire group laughed for the entire afternoon after receiving this email.
-the stupid kid misspelled Hilary’s name twice in these emails
-some names have been changed because these kids are really stupid
-“candy dish” will be substituted as a code phrase for anything and everything in the near future
-I fully expect “Sail on Mike!” to attain catch phrase status. (i.e. “boo-urns,” “so’s your face,” and “bam!”)
Last week the he forwarded an email conversation he’d had with the managers of the other group on the floor. This was the intro to the email:
From: the stupid kid
To: Tom, Lurch, Pony Boy, Hypermanager, Quiet Girl, Guy that I hate
Please read up from the bottom to follow the conversation. Thanks.
-the stupid kid-
Thanks for the tip, stupid kid, none of us has ever seen email before.
Rather than present the rest of the email as it was sent (bottom up) I will share it top down, for your convenience:
From: the stupid kid
To: Hilary, the other manager
Subject: Cake!
Hillary, I was just looking at that website. Doesn't the cake on this ship (click the third pic from the left on the bottom) look a lot like the company logo? http://www.partyfavorsbrookline.com/Default.aspx?tabid=49&cid=7&sid=0&ProductID=795&page=0
They can mimic designs that we bring to them. So I'm sure they could do a closer rendition of our logo.
They had a photo fo an NY city cake design in the store too. I thought it would be cool to see if they could make a good looking company ship combined with a vista of NY city. Perhaps the ship could be in the harbor.
Like the cake in this image, we could have some writing. Perhaps something like "Sail On Mike!" or something like that. Just a thought.
-the stupid kid-
From: Hilary
To: the stupid kid, the rest of her group
Subject: RE: Cake!
Would everyone pitch in $40 for this cake for Mike?
We're just trying to get a consensus of who would eat/pay this much - please keep in mind that we'll probably do a small gift as well.
Please let the stupid kid know.
Thank you!
Hilary
From: the stupid kid
To: Hilary, the rest of her group
Subject: RE: Cake!
If anyone has alternative suggestions or ideas, please feel free to air them. Our choices aren't limited to duplicates from the website ( http://www.partyfavorsbrookline.com/ ) designs. I think it serves as a good reference point though and may inspire you to have more ideas.
If there are any artists in the groups, we can ask the store to copy any drawings we supply. Price depends in part on how detailed you want to make it. Though if it goes a little over, I don't mind picking up the difference.
Wednesday would be the deadline to order, but if everyone agrees on a plan of action, I'd like to place the order after work on Tuesday just to be safe
-the stupid kid-
From: the stupid kid
To: everyone
Subject: FW: Cake!
Please read up from the bottom to follow the conversation. Thanks.
-the stupid kid-
From: The Quiet Girl
To: everyone
Subject: RE: Cake!
stupid kid,
I'd be happy to chip in some money, just let me know how much and when to get it to you. Also, as far as the cake design, you could bring the cake place a sample letterhead (I'm sure Hypermanager has one), which would have the company logo on it. Just a thought!
From: the stupid kid
To: Quiet Girl, everyone
Subject: RE: Cake!
Quiet Girl,
I know Lurch likes the idea of having Mike's photo on the cake. He can show it to you on his cell phone. I'd say that if everyone chips in $4.00 that should more than cover it. If everyone is okay with this, just give it to Hillary when a final decision is made.
If anyone else has any ideas, please share them with the rest of us by forwarding the response to the people I'm sending this to. DON'T SEND IT TO MIKE!
But keep in mind that this is supposed to be a SECRET, even though Mike is surely expecting something. So how about if from now on the code word for cake is "candy dish." That way if Mike overhears, he'll think we're discussing stuff to put in Not So Pretty Girl's Bowl.
-the stupid kid-
A few brief notes:
-I included the links so you can see exactly what he’s talking about
-the entire group laughed for the entire afternoon after receiving this email.
-the stupid kid misspelled Hilary’s name twice in these emails
-some names have been changed because these kids are really stupid
-“candy dish” will be substituted as a code phrase for anything and everything in the near future
-I fully expect “Sail on Mike!” to attain catch phrase status. (i.e. “boo-urns,” “so’s your face,” and “bam!”)
Thursday, February 23, 2006
That doesn't sound like thinkin'!
The stupid kid is still putting the wrong trade numbers into his income spreadsheet. Things like “Number of shares purchased” and “Total Purchase Price.”
He also, apparently, doesn’t understand how archiving records works. He has taken all the daily printouts that need to be archived, put them in boxes, and stacked the boxes in the pick-up area.
Boxes that are completely identical, boxes that have no labels. I discovered this when I moved some labeled boxes into the pick-up area and saw this phalanx of blank cardboard. I knew without having to think about it that the stupid kid’s funds were in those boxes.
So, I told him to get the boxes back, and bring them to my cube, where I will label them, as per archiving procedure, because as much as I don’t enjoy archiving if I have to do it I will make sure it gets done correctly. And that means labeling boxes.
He had about ten boxes total, holding the paper backups for approximately four funds over a two year period. He began to move the boxes back to my cubicle and in the process discovered that he was missing two funds.
I told him the funds had to be found. Because they do have to be found. He asked me if I had moved them.
Good luck trying to find two unmarked boxes of funds that disappeared. Moron.
I hate this kid. Seriously, how does archiving work without labeling the boxes!?
I can’t stand it. I’m going to lunch.
-t
He also, apparently, doesn’t understand how archiving records works. He has taken all the daily printouts that need to be archived, put them in boxes, and stacked the boxes in the pick-up area.
Boxes that are completely identical, boxes that have no labels. I discovered this when I moved some labeled boxes into the pick-up area and saw this phalanx of blank cardboard. I knew without having to think about it that the stupid kid’s funds were in those boxes.
So, I told him to get the boxes back, and bring them to my cube, where I will label them, as per archiving procedure, because as much as I don’t enjoy archiving if I have to do it I will make sure it gets done correctly. And that means labeling boxes.
He had about ten boxes total, holding the paper backups for approximately four funds over a two year period. He began to move the boxes back to my cubicle and in the process discovered that he was missing two funds.
I told him the funds had to be found. Because they do have to be found. He asked me if I had moved them.
Good luck trying to find two unmarked boxes of funds that disappeared. Moron.
I hate this kid. Seriously, how does archiving work without labeling the boxes!?
I can’t stand it. I’m going to lunch.
-t
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Sabbatical
Instead of going to get something to eat on my lunch break I went to spend money.
Because it’s cathartic. And damn I needed catharsis today. (I wasn’t sure if “cathartic” meant what I thought it did, so I looked it up, that’s where I found “catharsis.” Also, it did mean what I thought it meant: “a purification or purgation that brings about spiritual renewal or release from tension.")
So I took a walk and ended up at Barnes & Noble. Exactly where I’d ended up yesterday at about the same time feeling about the same way.
Actually, it’s been pointed out that spending money isn’t really cathartic. So, I was in want of catharsis, but I was not in a position to get any short of deciding to immediately turn around, punch the stupid kid in the face, tell off my boss, and then quit with something like “I quit! You, you, and you I’ve always liked I’ll be at the bar down the street for the rest of the day, I’d be happy to see you join me. The rest of you? Screw.” That would have been cathartic.
So, bookstore, yesterday and today. Yesterday, though, I ended up not buying books, because who needs more books? I’ve still got three big ones sitting next to my bed I have been planning to read since December. Today, I did buy books. I looked around in Mystery, and then a little in Science Fiction, and then a little in Mystery again. At some point, I can’t quite remember where, I thought I heard someone call my name.
As I exited the store after making a purchase (with my 10% off membership card! How exciting) I turned and saw the stupid kid exiting right behind me. Using my Holmesian powers of deduction I concluded it was he, stupid kid, who had called my name in a futile attempt to get my attention, and perhaps engage in some sort of book-themed conversation outside of the office.
I hate the stupid kid.
Now, there may be some of you out there thinking to yourselves “This Tom must be a horrible person, he seems so negative and hateful.” To you people I say, you are probably right.
But, there was a time when I was happy, fun-loving, and generally looked at the world through rose-colored, slightly opaque, UVA/UVB blocking lenses. Those times are past. I’ve lost those glasses, alas.
Anyway, back to my story about just wanting to escape for maybe an hour and perhaps purchase a work or two of fiction that would then enable me to escape for a few hours later that was interrupted by the stupid kid.
So, I continue to walk down the sidewalk and take an abrupt turn, away from the office, and the stupid kid stops following. Having avoided him I then walked a little more before turning and trudging (real, actual trudging) back to my place of employment and the monumentally dumb project I’d been assigned right before lunch by hypermanager without guidelines that had sparked the escapade.
I get back. The project is no less impossible despite a brief retreat to the outside world. And then the stupid kid comes back! With a problem! BECAUSE HE IS STUPID AND I HATE HIM.
And, as I am in the middle of instructing him, for the third time, HOW TO ADD, he says
“So what books did you get?”
And he was lucky I was in the act of reaching with my right hand across my body to the other side of the desk for a pencil, because if he had not caught me in mid-motion away from him I swear my reflex would have been to punch him in the head. Lucky for him my reflexes are not what they once were, having been dulled by a year of corporate drudgery.
I said “Two books by James Ellroy.” And stopped talking to him. He waited to see if I’d say anything else, then he walked away.
I imagine that if he has a blog, and posts about work, it would not paint me in a positive light. “Tried to make friends with my supervisor again today, I asked him about books he’d purchased at Barnes and Noble, thinking that maybe today he would finally open up, and share just a little bit with me. I know I haven’t been successful before, and that maybe all the little trips over to his desk aren’t as endearing as I hope they are, but right now he’s my boss, and I don’t want a boss…… I just want a friend.”
I did not hate my job until stupid kid showed up. I knew it wasn’t the best job, I knew finance isn’t my favorite thing, but I did not know hatred until stupid kid joined the group.
Because it’s cathartic. And damn I needed catharsis today. (I wasn’t sure if “cathartic” meant what I thought it did, so I looked it up, that’s where I found “catharsis.” Also, it did mean what I thought it meant: “a purification or purgation that brings about spiritual renewal or release from tension.")
So I took a walk and ended up at Barnes & Noble. Exactly where I’d ended up yesterday at about the same time feeling about the same way.
Actually, it’s been pointed out that spending money isn’t really cathartic. So, I was in want of catharsis, but I was not in a position to get any short of deciding to immediately turn around, punch the stupid kid in the face, tell off my boss, and then quit with something like “I quit! You, you, and you I’ve always liked I’ll be at the bar down the street for the rest of the day, I’d be happy to see you join me. The rest of you? Screw.” That would have been cathartic.
So, bookstore, yesterday and today. Yesterday, though, I ended up not buying books, because who needs more books? I’ve still got three big ones sitting next to my bed I have been planning to read since December. Today, I did buy books. I looked around in Mystery, and then a little in Science Fiction, and then a little in Mystery again. At some point, I can’t quite remember where, I thought I heard someone call my name.
As I exited the store after making a purchase (with my 10% off membership card! How exciting) I turned and saw the stupid kid exiting right behind me. Using my Holmesian powers of deduction I concluded it was he, stupid kid, who had called my name in a futile attempt to get my attention, and perhaps engage in some sort of book-themed conversation outside of the office.
I hate the stupid kid.
Now, there may be some of you out there thinking to yourselves “This Tom must be a horrible person, he seems so negative and hateful.” To you people I say, you are probably right.
But, there was a time when I was happy, fun-loving, and generally looked at the world through rose-colored, slightly opaque, UVA/UVB blocking lenses. Those times are past. I’ve lost those glasses, alas.
Anyway, back to my story about just wanting to escape for maybe an hour and perhaps purchase a work or two of fiction that would then enable me to escape for a few hours later that was interrupted by the stupid kid.
So, I continue to walk down the sidewalk and take an abrupt turn, away from the office, and the stupid kid stops following. Having avoided him I then walked a little more before turning and trudging (real, actual trudging) back to my place of employment and the monumentally dumb project I’d been assigned right before lunch by hypermanager without guidelines that had sparked the escapade.
I get back. The project is no less impossible despite a brief retreat to the outside world. And then the stupid kid comes back! With a problem! BECAUSE HE IS STUPID AND I HATE HIM.
And, as I am in the middle of instructing him, for the third time, HOW TO ADD, he says
“So what books did you get?”
And he was lucky I was in the act of reaching with my right hand across my body to the other side of the desk for a pencil, because if he had not caught me in mid-motion away from him I swear my reflex would have been to punch him in the head. Lucky for him my reflexes are not what they once were, having been dulled by a year of corporate drudgery.
I said “Two books by James Ellroy.” And stopped talking to him. He waited to see if I’d say anything else, then he walked away.
I imagine that if he has a blog, and posts about work, it would not paint me in a positive light. “Tried to make friends with my supervisor again today, I asked him about books he’d purchased at Barnes and Noble, thinking that maybe today he would finally open up, and share just a little bit with me. I know I haven’t been successful before, and that maybe all the little trips over to his desk aren’t as endearing as I hope they are, but right now he’s my boss, and I don’t want a boss…… I just want a friend.”
I did not hate my job until stupid kid showed up. I knew it wasn’t the best job, I knew finance isn’t my favorite thing, but I did not know hatred until stupid kid joined the group.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
PC Load Letter
Tell me you know how to work a printer.
I don’t mean Office Space “what the fuck does PC load letter mean?” printers (even though pc load letter means the printer is out of paper, moron), I mean, you know, having the ability to read.
Three times today. Three times.
Thing the first:
The stupid kid comes up to me this morning, wearing the absolute brightest pink shirt I think it is humanly possible to manufacture, I’m talking a supernova of brightness radiating from this very bright, very pink, very bright shirt (with dark green pants and black shoes), and says, “You know those interest lines I asked you about last week? Well, they’re still out there.”
So I say “You told me last week that those lines tied to the payments, all you have to do is let the kid on the other side of the floor know they match and he’ll clear the lines.”
And he replies “Um, ok, but, uh, could you check them – the lines – and see if they’re really tied?”
They don’t.
Mutual funds buy securities, the securities accrue interest, and that interest is paid to the mutual fund on a determined date. We track the security, the days accrued, and the interest rate to calculate the expected payment. Then, we get paid. Simple.
To check if the interest line matches the payment you check the interest line function. To check the payment you check the interest received function.
Two screens. Two numbers. Are they equal, or not? SIMPLE.
If the payment matches the accrual, we clear the line and take in the money. If not, then it’s my job to do the research, determine what went wrong, and fix it. My job gets a little harder when the stupid kid tells me things are clear and I believe him. So really, is the mistake his fault? Or, is it my fault for not checking his work because I assumed he had the comprehensive power to compare two numbers? I leave that to you.
The second thing:
Securities accrue in one of three ways
-30/360 – payments are calculated as if there were thirty days in each month and three hundred sixty days in the year.
-act/360 – payments calculated based on the actual number of days in the month and as if there were three hundred sixty days in the year.
-act/act – payments calculated based on the actual number of days in the month and the actual number of days in the year.
The stupid kid asked me if it was ok that something booked “act/365” was correct because it should be “actual/actual,’ with the actual number of days in the year.
Turns out that yes, it was booked correctly, because 365 is the actual number of days in the year.
Don’t forget, this is the kid who couldn’t remember if there were 52 or 54 weeks in the year. He thinks it’s 52, but it might be 54, like a deck of cards.
Three:
The stupid kid came over to my desk at the close of the day, people are running around trying to finish funds. “Hey, um,” he said, “I just wanted to let you know I think the printer is broken or something. It’s flashing a message on the screen.”
The message was “PC load letter.”
No, not really, but I know you were all hoping it was. You were sitting there wishing, with all your might, that the stupid kid did not, can not, understand “PC load letter.”
“Come on, Tom, have you, please, please, set this post up with the mention of Office Space, and the title, and our previous knowledge of the stupid kid, please tell me that’s the message he got.” That’s what you were thinking.
Sorry to disappoint, but we have nicer printers:
“Printer is out of paper.”
I don’t mean Office Space “what the fuck does PC load letter mean?” printers (even though pc load letter means the printer is out of paper, moron), I mean, you know, having the ability to read.
Three times today. Three times.
Thing the first:
The stupid kid comes up to me this morning, wearing the absolute brightest pink shirt I think it is humanly possible to manufacture, I’m talking a supernova of brightness radiating from this very bright, very pink, very bright shirt (with dark green pants and black shoes), and says, “You know those interest lines I asked you about last week? Well, they’re still out there.”
So I say “You told me last week that those lines tied to the payments, all you have to do is let the kid on the other side of the floor know they match and he’ll clear the lines.”
And he replies “Um, ok, but, uh, could you check them – the lines – and see if they’re really tied?”
They don’t.
Mutual funds buy securities, the securities accrue interest, and that interest is paid to the mutual fund on a determined date. We track the security, the days accrued, and the interest rate to calculate the expected payment. Then, we get paid. Simple.
To check if the interest line matches the payment you check the interest line function. To check the payment you check the interest received function.
Two screens. Two numbers. Are they equal, or not? SIMPLE.
If the payment matches the accrual, we clear the line and take in the money. If not, then it’s my job to do the research, determine what went wrong, and fix it. My job gets a little harder when the stupid kid tells me things are clear and I believe him. So really, is the mistake his fault? Or, is it my fault for not checking his work because I assumed he had the comprehensive power to compare two numbers? I leave that to you.
The second thing:
Securities accrue in one of three ways
-30/360 – payments are calculated as if there were thirty days in each month and three hundred sixty days in the year.
-act/360 – payments calculated based on the actual number of days in the month and as if there were three hundred sixty days in the year.
-act/act – payments calculated based on the actual number of days in the month and the actual number of days in the year.
The stupid kid asked me if it was ok that something booked “act/365” was correct because it should be “actual/actual,’ with the actual number of days in the year.
Turns out that yes, it was booked correctly, because 365 is the actual number of days in the year.
Don’t forget, this is the kid who couldn’t remember if there were 52 or 54 weeks in the year. He thinks it’s 52, but it might be 54, like a deck of cards.
Three:
The stupid kid came over to my desk at the close of the day, people are running around trying to finish funds. “Hey, um,” he said, “I just wanted to let you know I think the printer is broken or something. It’s flashing a message on the screen.”
The message was “PC load letter.”
No, not really, but I know you were all hoping it was. You were sitting there wishing, with all your might, that the stupid kid did not, can not, understand “PC load letter.”
“Come on, Tom, have you, please, please, set this post up with the mention of Office Space, and the title, and our previous knowledge of the stupid kid, please tell me that’s the message he got.” That’s what you were thinking.
Sorry to disappoint, but we have nicer printers:
“Printer is out of paper.”
Monday, January 23, 2006
Ranting. Because I don't do that nearly as much as I should, not nearly enough...
I hate them because they’re morons, and because they do not have any quality that makes me not hate them.
For example, if I had a moronic family member, I would not hate them. The familial bond would lead, instead, to a desire to teach them, to help them understand. This would also work if we played on the same sports team, if they had a cute sister, or if we’d fought in a war together.
None of these people are family.
They do not understand, or, they do not choose to appreciate causal relationships. They say things like “My fund doesn’t want to tie out.”
FUNDS DO NOT HAVE DESIRES. They do not express emotions, they are not conscious. “My computer doesn’t want to work.” WHAT THE HELL IS THAT. Computers do not get “temperamental”,” it’s probably just dust.
Simple equations. This is sixth grade math. Securities accrue at a given rate for a given time period. A times B divided by C. “I can’t find the rate for today, if I just use yesterday’s rate, does it matter?” OF COURSE IT MATTERS YOU DOPE. Sixth grade math.
I would teach sixth graders. I would probably enjoy teaching six graders. They have an excuse. They’re kids. Kids are stupid. That’s their default.
But these morons that I work with have GRADUATED FROM COLLEGE. I do not understand how. They do not have an excuse. College graduates with a major in ECONOMICS should be able to handle sixth grade math.
Percentages. Hey, what’s the interest earned, per day, on a million shares fixed at three percent over three hundred sixty-five days?
DOES THAT SOUND TOO COMPLICATED FOR A COLLEGE GRADUATE? They have freaking calculators on their desks, and on their operating systems, there’s a great program we use here called EXCEL for crying out loud, ONE OF THEM EVEN HAS A DIGITAL CALCULATOR WATCH.
By the way that’s $82.19 a day in interest.
How are you able to argue the merits of communism versus the merits of capitalism AND NOT BE ABLE TO MULTIPLY.
Am I way out of line here? No. Is it totally unreasonable to expect college graduates to be able to perform at least as well as your average sixth grader? No. Trained monkeys could do this job.
Now, could I train the monkeys to do the job? No. Because I’m not a monkey trainer. BUT THAT IS WHAT THIS JOB IS NOW.
Hypermanager: “If you accrue your fund Friday how many days is that?”
The stupid kid: “One?”
Hypermanager: “Yes, very good. Now you accrue your fund through Saturday and Sunday, how many more days is that?”
The stupid kid: “…, …,”
Hypermanager: “How many days?”
The stupid kid: “Well, I guess I don’t have the correct answer.”
THE ANSWER IS TWO YOU MORON.
This isn’t hyperbole. This is not exaggeration. THAT EXCHANGE ACTUALLY TOOK PLACE THIS MORNING NEXT TO MY CUBICLE.
I’m afraid. I’m afraid to get a new job. What if it’s worse out there?
I hate being the smartest guy in the room.
-t
For example, if I had a moronic family member, I would not hate them. The familial bond would lead, instead, to a desire to teach them, to help them understand. This would also work if we played on the same sports team, if they had a cute sister, or if we’d fought in a war together.
None of these people are family.
They do not understand, or, they do not choose to appreciate causal relationships. They say things like “My fund doesn’t want to tie out.”
FUNDS DO NOT HAVE DESIRES. They do not express emotions, they are not conscious. “My computer doesn’t want to work.” WHAT THE HELL IS THAT. Computers do not get “temperamental”,” it’s probably just dust.
Simple equations. This is sixth grade math. Securities accrue at a given rate for a given time period. A times B divided by C. “I can’t find the rate for today, if I just use yesterday’s rate, does it matter?” OF COURSE IT MATTERS YOU DOPE. Sixth grade math.
I would teach sixth graders. I would probably enjoy teaching six graders. They have an excuse. They’re kids. Kids are stupid. That’s their default.
But these morons that I work with have GRADUATED FROM COLLEGE. I do not understand how. They do not have an excuse. College graduates with a major in ECONOMICS should be able to handle sixth grade math.
Percentages. Hey, what’s the interest earned, per day, on a million shares fixed at three percent over three hundred sixty-five days?
DOES THAT SOUND TOO COMPLICATED FOR A COLLEGE GRADUATE? They have freaking calculators on their desks, and on their operating systems, there’s a great program we use here called EXCEL for crying out loud, ONE OF THEM EVEN HAS A DIGITAL CALCULATOR WATCH.
By the way that’s $82.19 a day in interest.
How are you able to argue the merits of communism versus the merits of capitalism AND NOT BE ABLE TO MULTIPLY.
Am I way out of line here? No. Is it totally unreasonable to expect college graduates to be able to perform at least as well as your average sixth grader? No. Trained monkeys could do this job.
Now, could I train the monkeys to do the job? No. Because I’m not a monkey trainer. BUT THAT IS WHAT THIS JOB IS NOW.
Hypermanager: “If you accrue your fund Friday how many days is that?”
The stupid kid: “One?”
Hypermanager: “Yes, very good. Now you accrue your fund through Saturday and Sunday, how many more days is that?”
The stupid kid: “…, …,”
Hypermanager: “How many days?”
The stupid kid: “Well, I guess I don’t have the correct answer.”
THE ANSWER IS TWO YOU MORON.
This isn’t hyperbole. This is not exaggeration. THAT EXCHANGE ACTUALLY TOOK PLACE THIS MORNING NEXT TO MY CUBICLE.
I’m afraid. I’m afraid to get a new job. What if it’s worse out there?
I hate being the smartest guy in the room.
-t
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Under the bus
Last week I overheard a conversation the stupid kid was having with the AVP and I can’t remember if I wrote about it. So I’m writing about it now.
There are some here, in management, who frown on employee use of instant messenger and the internet. Some feel that the resources of the world wide web should be used for business purposes and only business purposes. Our AVP has adopted this as a personal crusade. He is out to catch you online, and put a stop to it. No more reading the fantasy football reviews on espn.com. No more cruising blogs. And heaven help you if an IM window should pop open when he is within fifty feet of your desk.
He was the first to catch me online, way back in the day (I’d left my computer on and unlocked one day at lunch with AIM still running). He came down pretty hard on hypermanager, who in turn came down pretty hard on me (prompting this post).
Since then I’ve been super covert with my internet usage…ok, not super covert, but I remember to lock my computer when I leave my desk. I haven’t heard anything about too much time online though, because management has had their hands full with stupid kid.
He’s online all day. News sites mostly, also AIM (though I think his buddy list is as empty as his “friends” group on thefacebook). Hypermanager and AVP have both commented, numerous times, about the lack of attention he pays to his funds and the copious amount of time he spends online.
Last week, just before the move, I overheard the AVP talking to the stupid kid. AVP had circumspectly brought up internet usage and its detrimental effect on the detail-oriented work we do here. The AVP then not-so-subtly suggested that the stupid kid knock that shit off and pay attention to his job instead of wasting time online.
And the stupid kid responded conversationally by telling the AVP that he’s seen me online all the time, “Some people use instant messenger all day long. Tom does it.”
What the hell?
First of all, the AVP knows it. He’s already caught me, and every once-in-a-while casually mentions excessive time online: “Hey, some groups think it’s ok, but that’s just not how I feel. That’s not how I interpret the corporate policy. I don’t want my group run that way.”
But that’s as far as it goes. He knows it’s my decision, and I know if it ever interferes with my work I’ll be shown the door. We’ve reached that understanding.
The stupid kid tries to throw me to the lions? Hey, I don’t like him, and he knows it, but that’s not an honorable move. Underhanded.
Exercising personal vendettas by proxy? It’s not how things are done. I hate him.
-t
There are some here, in management, who frown on employee use of instant messenger and the internet. Some feel that the resources of the world wide web should be used for business purposes and only business purposes. Our AVP has adopted this as a personal crusade. He is out to catch you online, and put a stop to it. No more reading the fantasy football reviews on espn.com. No more cruising blogs. And heaven help you if an IM window should pop open when he is within fifty feet of your desk.
He was the first to catch me online, way back in the day (I’d left my computer on and unlocked one day at lunch with AIM still running). He came down pretty hard on hypermanager, who in turn came down pretty hard on me (prompting this post).
Since then I’ve been super covert with my internet usage…ok, not super covert, but I remember to lock my computer when I leave my desk. I haven’t heard anything about too much time online though, because management has had their hands full with stupid kid.
He’s online all day. News sites mostly, also AIM (though I think his buddy list is as empty as his “friends” group on thefacebook). Hypermanager and AVP have both commented, numerous times, about the lack of attention he pays to his funds and the copious amount of time he spends online.
Last week, just before the move, I overheard the AVP talking to the stupid kid. AVP had circumspectly brought up internet usage and its detrimental effect on the detail-oriented work we do here. The AVP then not-so-subtly suggested that the stupid kid knock that shit off and pay attention to his job instead of wasting time online.
And the stupid kid responded conversationally by telling the AVP that he’s seen me online all the time, “Some people use instant messenger all day long. Tom does it.”
What the hell?
First of all, the AVP knows it. He’s already caught me, and every once-in-a-while casually mentions excessive time online: “Hey, some groups think it’s ok, but that’s just not how I feel. That’s not how I interpret the corporate policy. I don’t want my group run that way.”
But that’s as far as it goes. He knows it’s my decision, and I know if it ever interferes with my work I’ll be shown the door. We’ve reached that understanding.
The stupid kid tries to throw me to the lions? Hey, I don’t like him, and he knows it, but that’s not an honorable move. Underhanded.
Exercising personal vendettas by proxy? It’s not how things are done. I hate him.
-t
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Gift horse
“The idea of gift giving is silly,” he said, and I paused, surprised, expecting some philosophical condemnation of capitalist consumerism.
“If you really want people to be happy you should just give them money,” he finished, “because then they can go out and buy whatever they want.”
“And then you don’t have to agonize over ‘augh, now I have to wear this, or use this,’ with something you didn’t want anyway,” she agreed.
Call me old fashioned, but money given doesn’t spend as well as money earned. I don’t want your twenty-five dollars tucked in a Christmas card because you’re too lazy or to uncaring to try and give something that means a little. Money won’t ever make me feel joy.
And if you are compelled to participate in an office holiday gift swap, do not belittle the Bible that you received. It may be that God is particularly active in someone’s life, someone you work with, and they are trying to encourage a similar level of spirituality in your life.
And when that coworker senses the gift had not gone over well tells a story, in broken English about a movie he once saw to serve as a parable, listen. A father and a son had a falling out over, of all things, the father’s expensive automobile. The son left home, only to be called back many years later by a dying father wishing to make amends. When the son arrives home he learns his father is dead and the only thing bequeathed to him was a small pocket Bible. The son disgustedly throws the Bible away. Later, the Bible is found, and in its pages the reader discovers the old father’s will, leaving everything to the son, and the key to the automobile.
Scoffing at any gift is rude. Scoffing at the gift and then loudly proclaiming that cash is what would make you happy is worse. It may just be that the Bible ended up where it can do the most good.
-tgme
“If you really want people to be happy you should just give them money,” he finished, “because then they can go out and buy whatever they want.”
“And then you don’t have to agonize over ‘augh, now I have to wear this, or use this,’ with something you didn’t want anyway,” she agreed.
Call me old fashioned, but money given doesn’t spend as well as money earned. I don’t want your twenty-five dollars tucked in a Christmas card because you’re too lazy or to uncaring to try and give something that means a little. Money won’t ever make me feel joy.
And if you are compelled to participate in an office holiday gift swap, do not belittle the Bible that you received. It may be that God is particularly active in someone’s life, someone you work with, and they are trying to encourage a similar level of spirituality in your life.
And when that coworker senses the gift had not gone over well tells a story, in broken English about a movie he once saw to serve as a parable, listen. A father and a son had a falling out over, of all things, the father’s expensive automobile. The son left home, only to be called back many years later by a dying father wishing to make amends. When the son arrives home he learns his father is dead and the only thing bequeathed to him was a small pocket Bible. The son disgustedly throws the Bible away. Later, the Bible is found, and in its pages the reader discovers the old father’s will, leaving everything to the son, and the key to the automobile.
Scoffing at any gift is rude. Scoffing at the gift and then loudly proclaiming that cash is what would make you happy is worse. It may just be that the Bible ended up where it can do the most good.
-tgme
Friday, November 25, 2005
Force-shortening
I’m at work on Friday covering for three people. I am trying to simultaneously manage the group and do all of hypermanager’s work, cover our new fund that I have had minimal training on, cover all five of Josh’s funds, and still make sure, as I do every day, that the stupid kids don’t bring this all crashing down.
I’m busy and easily annoyed. I do not enjoy working here. Michelle, the quiet senior analyst is here, but you’d never know it. She does her thing and keeps her head down. Dick, the manager I hate, is here, but he’s not, he skipped out near eleven o’clock to do some shopping and we haven’t seen him since. Hypermanager took the day off. Candy, the new senior analyst is out today, and our senior manager is still working on the other side of the floor. So, really, it’s down to me and four accountants: the stupid kid, the not-quite-as-stupid kid, the smart kid, and the foreign kid.
Communists.
-t
recommended download:
Weezer, Mykel and Carli
I’m busy and easily annoyed. I do not enjoy working here. Michelle, the quiet senior analyst is here, but you’d never know it. She does her thing and keeps her head down. Dick, the manager I hate, is here, but he’s not, he skipped out near eleven o’clock to do some shopping and we haven’t seen him since. Hypermanager took the day off. Candy, the new senior analyst is out today, and our senior manager is still working on the other side of the floor. So, really, it’s down to me and four accountants: the stupid kid, the not-quite-as-stupid kid, the smart kid, and the foreign kid.
Communists.
-t
recommended download:
Weezer, Mykel and Carli
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Jokes that aren't funny shouldn't be called jokes
Ok, so do you remember when I told you I don’t like using profanity or repeating negative or derogatory comments? No matter. I’m offering this little disclaimer just to state that I don’t enjoy writing or repeating things of this nature, but felt, in this instance, that I should, so you know what goes on around here.
This is a new development. The stupid kid is interacting with other people. The last time this happened he asked the VP’s secretary if she and her sister were twins from a split egg.
Today he started talking with Jonathan, the opie&anthony fan. Jonathan has a dark sense of humor, sure enough dark humor became the topic of conversation. The conversation was taking place a few cubes away, far enough that I could only hear the highlights. Highlights like
Stupid kid: oh, I’ve got a good one [too low to hear]
Jonathan: oh. Um, wow. That’s...that shouldn’t be repeated. That’s a mean thing to think.
He trumped Jonathan. Then the conversation moved over to Jonathan’s desk, across from mine, where Jonathan started to put his coat on and get the hell out of here so he wouldn’t be associated with Stupid kid. This is the guy that routinely makes jokes about child molestation. Stupid kid caught up with him to say
Stupid kid: Oh, I’ve got another one: What do you tell a woman with two black eyes?
Jonathan: ‘Nothing, you’ve already told her twice.’ That’s a good one, you should have led with that. [quietly] Of course you can only say that to me, you know? That’s another one you can’t say, around here, you know, H-R…some people might take offense.
Stupid kid: Yeah, well, I did have a good one, though.
Well folks. I take offense. I don’t enjoy the jokes, and I already hate the stupid kid; this does nothing to redeem his character in my eyes. I don’t know what his first joke was, I don’t want to know. All I can do is draw the same conclusions I’ve been drawing: He doesn’t understand the social relationships that normal people have. He didn’t check with anyone within earshot before repeating the jokes, like me, or the VP’s secretary. He seemed to revel in this dark humor, and Jonathan’s familiarity with it. Jonathan knows enough to not say anything unless he knows you, knows you won’t be offended, because he doesn’t mean it, he really is only joking. He’s considerate enough to ask if you’ll be offended before offending you. Stupid kid is…stupid.
I’m more disgusted than angry.
This is a new development. The stupid kid is interacting with other people. The last time this happened he asked the VP’s secretary if she and her sister were twins from a split egg.
Today he started talking with Jonathan, the opie&anthony fan. Jonathan has a dark sense of humor, sure enough dark humor became the topic of conversation. The conversation was taking place a few cubes away, far enough that I could only hear the highlights. Highlights like
Stupid kid: oh, I’ve got a good one [too low to hear]
Jonathan: oh. Um, wow. That’s...that shouldn’t be repeated. That’s a mean thing to think.
He trumped Jonathan. Then the conversation moved over to Jonathan’s desk, across from mine, where Jonathan started to put his coat on and get the hell out of here so he wouldn’t be associated with Stupid kid. This is the guy that routinely makes jokes about child molestation. Stupid kid caught up with him to say
Stupid kid: Oh, I’ve got another one: What do you tell a woman with two black eyes?
Jonathan: ‘Nothing, you’ve already told her twice.’ That’s a good one, you should have led with that. [quietly] Of course you can only say that to me, you know? That’s another one you can’t say, around here, you know, H-R…some people might take offense.
Stupid kid: Yeah, well, I did have a good one, though.
Well folks. I take offense. I don’t enjoy the jokes, and I already hate the stupid kid; this does nothing to redeem his character in my eyes. I don’t know what his first joke was, I don’t want to know. All I can do is draw the same conclusions I’ve been drawing: He doesn’t understand the social relationships that normal people have. He didn’t check with anyone within earshot before repeating the jokes, like me, or the VP’s secretary. He seemed to revel in this dark humor, and Jonathan’s familiarity with it. Jonathan knows enough to not say anything unless he knows you, knows you won’t be offended, because he doesn’t mean it, he really is only joking. He’s considerate enough to ask if you’ll be offended before offending you. Stupid kid is…stupid.
I’m more disgusted than angry.
Thursday, October 20, 2005
These are the things that happen (another stupid kid entry)
Our VP just got a new secretary, she sits near the group. Today was her first day on the floor so her sister came and took her to lunch. (To preempt the question she is about thirty eight years old, not the ‘hot secretary’ stereotype). She sits right near the stupid kid.
I got an email from Jack, who sits next to the stupid kid, I’d like to share with you:
Stupid kid asked the secretary if her and her sister are maternal twins and if it was a split egg.
I can’t believe it. I don’t know if anything can top it… I know I should be dreading tomorrow, but I’m almost (almost) looking forward to it.
-t
Really, I can’t believe it.
I got an email from Jack, who sits next to the stupid kid, I’d like to share with you:
Stupid kid asked the secretary if her and her sister are maternal twins and if it was a split egg.
I can’t believe it. I don’t know if anything can top it… I know I should be dreading tomorrow, but I’m almost (almost) looking forward to it.
-t
Really, I can’t believe it.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Tic-Toc
My day is a pendulum which swings wildly between nodes of boredom and frustration. It swings without regard to the laws of physics demonstrated by Da Vinci or illustrated by Newton’s Laws. Tic-Toc.
Tic – Ten thirty, nothing to do.
Toc – Ten forty-five, stupid kid needs help tying funds.
Toc – Eleven fifteen, research another bad rate
Tic – Twelve, nothing to do. Too early to leave for lunch, too late to adjust income.
Tic – Two, back from lunch, nothing to do.
Tic – Three, traders leave the floor. I sit at my desk
Tic – Four, in ten minutes we might see some action…
Toc – Four fifteen, stupid kid has income problems that should have been picked up two hours ago. This will take half an hour to fix while the rest of the group starts turning in their funds.
Meanwhile, these posts are really starting to bore the hell out of me. What’s the deal folks?! I haven’t been able to write comically or coherently for weeks now…maybe longer than that. I’ve nothing left to work for. I’ve hit the end of my rope… Cute girl left. Pretty girl moved to the other side of the floor, and we’re all at least 98% certain she’s not going to go out with me, especially after being mocked by John and Felecia at that bar, I don’t think anything less than a 25% salary increase would make the day-to-day dealing with the stupid kid worth it…there’s nothing left for me here. I’m tapped out.
Maybe that’s really true. Maybe I’ve stumbled upon the problem. With pretty girl out of the picture I don’t have any reason to come in to work – except for the work, and that’s really the worst reason to go into work on the planet. What are my options? Do I bail on the group? Do I leave the company? Do I retreat to a remote cabin in the wilderness and start typing a manifesto outlining the problems with corporate America? Or ditch it all, take a pair of jeans and my leather jacket and whatever I can fit in a knapsack and hitchhike my way across the country? Maybe I’ll buy a ticket to Mexico, start up a resort, partner with the neighboring drug dealers until a buy goes bad, then have to shoot my way out of that hell hole with M-16 machine guns stolen off of dead body guards while the hotel burns to the ground around me. Of course, I’ve been trained especially for these types of situations, so I’d get out of there unscathed, and I’d probably rescue the girl, too, assuming there is a girl…and that she’s worth rescuing, and not in league with those drug lords. Her name would probably be Rosa. After the escape Rosa and I would embark on a life of crime, the Bonnie and Clyde of Central America, I’d shoot up the banks, she’d drive the getaway car. When things heat up in Bolivia we’ll head either to Australia or maybe Nevada to cool off. Maybe Vegas, we could break the bank with our stolen money, and live large and in charge at some casino in the penthouse suite.
I think I’m liking this option. Where do I sign up
-t
recommended downloads:
The Old 97’s, Melt Show
and
Matt Nathanson, Wings
Tic – Ten thirty, nothing to do.
Toc – Ten forty-five, stupid kid needs help tying funds.
Toc – Eleven fifteen, research another bad rate
Tic – Twelve, nothing to do. Too early to leave for lunch, too late to adjust income.
Tic – Two, back from lunch, nothing to do.
Tic – Three, traders leave the floor. I sit at my desk
Tic – Four, in ten minutes we might see some action…
Toc – Four fifteen, stupid kid has income problems that should have been picked up two hours ago. This will take half an hour to fix while the rest of the group starts turning in their funds.
Meanwhile, these posts are really starting to bore the hell out of me. What’s the deal folks?! I haven’t been able to write comically or coherently for weeks now…maybe longer than that. I’ve nothing left to work for. I’ve hit the end of my rope… Cute girl left. Pretty girl moved to the other side of the floor, and we’re all at least 98% certain she’s not going to go out with me, especially after being mocked by John and Felecia at that bar, I don’t think anything less than a 25% salary increase would make the day-to-day dealing with the stupid kid worth it…there’s nothing left for me here. I’m tapped out.
Maybe that’s really true. Maybe I’ve stumbled upon the problem. With pretty girl out of the picture I don’t have any reason to come in to work – except for the work, and that’s really the worst reason to go into work on the planet. What are my options? Do I bail on the group? Do I leave the company? Do I retreat to a remote cabin in the wilderness and start typing a manifesto outlining the problems with corporate America? Or ditch it all, take a pair of jeans and my leather jacket and whatever I can fit in a knapsack and hitchhike my way across the country? Maybe I’ll buy a ticket to Mexico, start up a resort, partner with the neighboring drug dealers until a buy goes bad, then have to shoot my way out of that hell hole with M-16 machine guns stolen off of dead body guards while the hotel burns to the ground around me. Of course, I’ve been trained especially for these types of situations, so I’d get out of there unscathed, and I’d probably rescue the girl, too, assuming there is a girl…and that she’s worth rescuing, and not in league with those drug lords. Her name would probably be Rosa. After the escape Rosa and I would embark on a life of crime, the Bonnie and Clyde of Central America, I’d shoot up the banks, she’d drive the getaway car. When things heat up in Bolivia we’ll head either to Australia or maybe Nevada to cool off. Maybe Vegas, we could break the bank with our stolen money, and live large and in charge at some casino in the penthouse suite.
I think I’m liking this option. Where do I sign up
-t
recommended downloads:
The Old 97’s, Melt Show
and
Matt Nathanson, Wings
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
The best things in life are Wine, Women, and Song
I am bored at work. I also have more work to do now than I ever have before. This incongruous situation arises because the work I need to get done, all of it, needs to get done before noon.
First, there is the tying out of the funds, and the trouble-shooting thereof, for which I am responsible. On a good day I don’t even see this stuff, everything ties. On a bad day it could eat up two hours of my morning. (that’s 10AM-12PM).
Second, there is the inputting data to the website. This is easy and tedious, and takes fifteen minutes, never changing.
Third, there are the rates. On a good day it will take half an hour, on a bad day it will take an hour forty-five. Most days it comes out to about forty minutes.
Just accounting for those three tasks, on a normal day, I am left with about half an hour before noontime.
Then, there are the adjustments.
Every fund gets paid interest on the securities held. Our daily job is to verify things are set up correctly in the system so that they pay correctly down the line. When things are not set up correctly, we take adjustments.
Sometimes rates are bad, that’s mostly my fault, and it mostly doesn’t happen. That’s also an easy adjustment to research and fix.
Sometimes something else is wrong, and what is it? We have no idea. It’s the other side’s job to book things right, and then to worry about things that aren’t paying correctly. They never do.
I’ve got the kid who talks to his plants over at my desk at least three times a week with adjustments. It is his job to research these trades and figure out why they are paying differently. Once accomplished he is then supposed to come over to me, say “these are paying wrong, this is why” This is what he never does.
He does not research. I do. I wouldn’t trust his research anyway, I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him. He books trades wrong. They pay wrong. He doesn’t research them. He doesn’t fix them. The worse he is at his job, the more he slacks off or talks to his plants, the more adjustments and research he creates, for me.
So I am sitting here. With pages of adjustments that need to be made to funds, and not doing anything. I have tons of work to do, and I can’t do any of it.
So tomorrow, if I get slammed with rates, the adjustments will have to wait. But they can’t wait too long, or the clients get upset (as they should). If they just booked the stupid trades properly the first time around we would never take any adjustments.
-t
recommended download:
Flogging Molly, Every Dog Has His Day
First, there is the tying out of the funds, and the trouble-shooting thereof, for which I am responsible. On a good day I don’t even see this stuff, everything ties. On a bad day it could eat up two hours of my morning. (that’s 10AM-12PM).
Second, there is the inputting data to the website. This is easy and tedious, and takes fifteen minutes, never changing.
Third, there are the rates. On a good day it will take half an hour, on a bad day it will take an hour forty-five. Most days it comes out to about forty minutes.
Just accounting for those three tasks, on a normal day, I am left with about half an hour before noontime.
Then, there are the adjustments.
Every fund gets paid interest on the securities held. Our daily job is to verify things are set up correctly in the system so that they pay correctly down the line. When things are not set up correctly, we take adjustments.
Sometimes rates are bad, that’s mostly my fault, and it mostly doesn’t happen. That’s also an easy adjustment to research and fix.
Sometimes something else is wrong, and what is it? We have no idea. It’s the other side’s job to book things right, and then to worry about things that aren’t paying correctly. They never do.
I’ve got the kid who talks to his plants over at my desk at least three times a week with adjustments. It is his job to research these trades and figure out why they are paying differently. Once accomplished he is then supposed to come over to me, say “these are paying wrong, this is why” This is what he never does.
He does not research. I do. I wouldn’t trust his research anyway, I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him. He books trades wrong. They pay wrong. He doesn’t research them. He doesn’t fix them. The worse he is at his job, the more he slacks off or talks to his plants, the more adjustments and research he creates, for me.
So I am sitting here. With pages of adjustments that need to be made to funds, and not doing anything. I have tons of work to do, and I can’t do any of it.
So tomorrow, if I get slammed with rates, the adjustments will have to wait. But they can’t wait too long, or the clients get upset (as they should). If they just booked the stupid trades properly the first time around we would never take any adjustments.
-t
recommended download:
Flogging Molly, Every Dog Has His Day
Friday, October 07, 2005
Happy Columbus Day
Ok, so I didn’t get many (any?) comments on the previous post concerning the coworker’s email about the stupid kid, so I don’t know if any of you think it’s funny or boring or what. So I’m posting another such entry. Because I think it’s funny.
Background info: We work Columbus Day. We work Halloween. We work Christmas Eve. Basically if it’s not Thanksgiving we’re at work, there’s a holiday calendar on the company homepage.
Email:
Tom,
Stupid guy wants to know if we have Columbus day off? I said no we have Halloween off instead.
-Jack
***
Jack,
You could suggest the calendar on the State Street homepage that lists the holidays. Here, this is the link: (link)
-Tom
***
Tom,
That would take all the fun out of the upcoming months!
I am going to tell him if we dress up on the Friday before Halloween we get that Monday off. You think he will buy into it?
-Jack
I am not going to respond to this email. But, yes, Stupid Guy would come in to work in costume. It would be probably the meanest thing we could do to him. He does not deal well with embarrassment. Or confrontation. Or making eye contact. Or understanding directions.
I just don’t understand this guy.
-t
Background info: We work Columbus Day. We work Halloween. We work Christmas Eve. Basically if it’s not Thanksgiving we’re at work, there’s a holiday calendar on the company homepage.
Email:
Tom,
Stupid guy wants to know if we have Columbus day off? I said no we have Halloween off instead.
-Jack
***
Jack,
You could suggest the calendar on the State Street homepage that lists the holidays. Here, this is the link: (link)
-Tom
***
Tom,
That would take all the fun out of the upcoming months!
I am going to tell him if we dress up on the Friday before Halloween we get that Monday off. You think he will buy into it?
-Jack
I am not going to respond to this email. But, yes, Stupid Guy would come in to work in costume. It would be probably the meanest thing we could do to him. He does not deal well with embarrassment. Or confrontation. Or making eye contact. Or understanding directions.
I just don’t understand this guy.
-t
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Ordinal day
I’m posting this for propriety’s sake. This is an email I just received from a coworker. His cube is on my left. On his left is the new stupid guy in our group. In this email “he” refers to stupid new guy, all other names have been changed, because I like these new names better:
Tom,
Earlier today he asked me and Consuela if a year has 56 or 52 weeks. I just sat for a minute and did not look up when he asked. I was in pure shock. Then he said, ”Cause I know a deck of cards has something like 56 cards in it.”
Jack
There you go. This is what it’s like every day.
-t
Tom,
Earlier today he asked me and Consuela if a year has 56 or 52 weeks. I just sat for a minute and did not look up when he asked. I was in pure shock. Then he said, ”Cause I know a deck of cards has something like 56 cards in it.”
Jack
There you go. This is what it’s like every day.
-t
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