Other bloggers I know use clever nicknames for people they blog about but don’t wish to identify. And because what I’m about to say is relayed out of much frustration, I’m going to do the same.
Since I know most people are blissfully unaware of what (exactly) I do all day, I won’t bore you with the breakdown of what comes through my office. I’ll just say that almost everything I do is focused on helping the various Web people here do what they need to do. The greater majority of my job is training, providing one-on-one assistance, and generally trying to figure out ways to make things easier for other people. The smaller portion of my job is actually building Web stuff.
So I was telling y’all recently that I’d heard of this new PDF software that allows for fillable PDF forms. I very quickly lined up demand for about 60-70 copies, so I went ahead and started the process to order 75 licenses.
Yesterday I tried to fax the purchase order to our vendor, but was having trouble getting the fax to go through — our fax machine is so tempermental, though, that I figured it was user error brought on by extreme fatigue and apathy. So I left it to fax today.
I had two interesting e-mails waiting for me when I got in this morning. The first was from the people who are in charge of our phone stuff, letting us know our long distance service is down (nice of them to be on top of things, eh?).
The second was a forwarded message my boss sent me from Mr. X, the person I refer to here as my “arch nemesis,” mostly because it seems like Mr. X is delighted — to the point of dancing in the streets — anytime I look stupid. Mr. X was demanding my boss halt my purchase of this software because it’s encroaching on someone else’s territory, and further that I should have had the presence of mind to tell people what I was doing, ordering software.
I mean, how DARE I order software! {gasp}
My initial reaction was this single thought: “FUUUUUUCK!” Seriously.
(I blame Daniel for my recently worsened potty mouth, btw.)
I mean, it’s not like I work in the caves and shadows of Al Qaeda, for crying out loud. I routinely communicate what’s happening (especially things, like this, that affect other people) via a listserv that *ANYONE* can sign up for. In fact, I checked, and six or seven people who report to Mr. X are on that listserv — including Ms. Y, his secretary, for fuck’s sake. Two of his people even *ORDERED* the software from me.
When I discovered Ms. Y subscribes to the list, and thus had been in on this for the month or so I’ve been considering it, I nearly leapt out of my chair in delight. As did my boss, when I telephoned her with the good news. That’s the Liz Norell version of a smoking gun: “See? I’m *not* stupid, Mr. X! Ha!”
I swear. Nine days out of ten I absolutely love my job, but on the tenth day I invariably get some reminder of how desperately Mr. X wants me to die a painful death (at least professionally), and I just want to … well. Return the favor?
Hang in there, Liz. No matter where you go in your professional career, regardless of your occupation, you have to deal with people just like Mr. X. They just come with the territory. But they do serve a very useful purpose. Eventually, given enough rope, they end up hanging themselves with their own incompetence. And they eventually just make the rest of us look that much better. :o)
"How dare he say I don't communicate?? I routinely send email to the listserv!"
I'm paraphrasing of course, but that part made me chuckle.
Would somebody *please* get this woman a blackberry?!