deird_lj

1) Yes, I did just have a flu vaccine. No, that doesn't mean that I'm a sucker who's been taken in by a scam to get me to pay for something that doesn't work. (It's a FREE vaccine. I didn't pay at ALL.) Also, the fact that I am now drowsy is a temporary side-effect, and NOT evidence that the only thing the flu vaccine does is make you sicker.


2) No, my parents are NOT subsidising my rent. Yes, I do want to go to England, and can't afford it. This is not a good reason to laugh at me and tell me I should be able to save more money. Nor is it a reason to tell me my parents suck and I need new ones when I inform you that, in fact, I'm paying full rent.


3) So you've had an article published in a magazine. Congratulations! Why do you keep telling me this as proof that you are superior to all us lesser mortals who have not been published? Also - the fact that I have had a book review published doesn't mean that I was "cribbing off someone else's work" by discussing a book I hadn't written. Nor is your publication proof that you know more about writing than I do - STOP TELLING ME THAT IT IS.




(Yes, this all happened today.)

I am getting rather sick of a certain comment.

It keeps happening, every day, while I'm in the kitchen at work, waiting for my tea to brew, or standing in the lift, waiting to reach my floor, or sitting at my desk, waiting for my computer to turn on*.


Inevitably, I'll have someone look over and say:
"Must be a good book."

...because I'm reading a book. While doing something else. *gasps*


Seriously, how do normal people read books? Do they pick up the book, carry it (still closed) over to a chair, sit down, open the book, read it in an engrossed fashion, and then close it, stand up, and resume their lives?

I don't. I carry a book in one hand. It's a simple way to relieve boredom while, for instance, waiting for tea to brew. Or while stuck in a lift with people I don't know.


How is this worth commenting on?




* (Ten minutes to start! That's just not right.)

...because they rock. Completely.


Sure, I've got the groovy engineering degree that says I can understand big important railway projects.

But... they can find obscurely-titled documents!
And write letters!
And fix the printer to stop it spitting out pages of all-blackness!
And schedule meetings!
And arrange going-away presents!
And recharge cameras!
And find me official letterhead to print on!
And order stationery!

They're AWESOME!


(This post was brought to you by a frustrating morning, made much less frustrating by the wonderful people who know how to touch-type and use their superpowers of secretarying for the greater good.)

Three mini-posts on completely unrelated topics:

( spoilers and TV tropes )

( polite rudeness )

( Terry Pratchett books )

My boss - or, rather, my boss's boss's boss's boss - is on an unending quest to abolish all business attire.


A year ago, when he first became head honcho (his job is, basically, the same as Sir Humphrey Appleby's), he promptly banned ties.

Well - not banned them, actually. He just declared that ties were no longer a compulsory part of business wear, and no-one had to wear them unless they really wanted to.

Our office became 80% tieless within a week.


And now, he's decided that having Casual Fridays just isn't good enough.

(Casual Fridays, for those who don't know, mean that we get to spend Fridays wearing jeans, or so forth. They're very fun.)

My last job had Casual Fridays for a price - you had to pay $2 if you wanted to wear casual clothes. And the job before that had Casual Fridays on the first Friday of the month.
I thought getting a Casual Friday, free of charge, every single week was doing pretty well. But no. Apparently not.

We now get Casual Fridays and Casual Mondays.


Today's the first one.

Currently, half the office are wearing suits (without ties) and the rest are in jeans - and spent most of the morning having whispered conversations with each other, trying to figure out if they were right about it being a Casual Monday, or if they'd accidentally misinterpreted the Big Boss's email and made a huge non-suit-wearing faux pas...

A while ago, my work, in an attempt to seem environmentally friendly, provided us with a whole lot of Recycled Paper bins around the office.
So that we'd recycle paper, rather than throwing it away.

And, in an attempt to make sure we used them, they took away all our rubbish bins.

That's right. We are not allowed to have rubbish bins, because they want to encourage recycling.
So, for instance, if you open a chocolate bar, you have to walk all the way to the other side of the building to put the wrapper into the kitchen bins, or else leave the wrapper (along with any other little bits of plastic, tissues, and apple cores) on your desk until you have time to make a big trip with everything.

So, sick of my desk looking like a bomb site, I have just bought myself a rubbish bin.

It is hidden under my desk, and lurks there, trying to seem inconspicuous and non-rubbish-bin-like, slowly filling up with random bits of litter - suddenly giving me one of the cleanest desks in the building.

*feels very naughty*

Santa just walked into the office.

One of the men I work with walked out of the loos dressed in a full Santa outfit, calling out "Ho Ho Ho!", and currently has each of us going up in turn to sit on Santa's knee, get a photo, and get a present filled with lollies, kazoos, and balloons.

There are now a huge number of balloons being used in impromptue desk-volleyball games around the office.

I love my work during the silly season...

Currently fighting the urge to visit the IT department with a baseball bat and a flamethrower.

( evil, evil, IT guys )

No, I don't care if it is on-topic.
I realise that the group was discussing accounting mistakes, and how easy it was for $5,000 to become $50,000. So yes, your comment was kinda relevant.

But please, in the future, try to remember:
If you tell a group of men (especially if that group is mostly made up of engineers) that you almost ended up paying $700 for a massage, there will probably be much hilarity at your expense...

That is all.


(ETA: mostly because it makes people very suspicious about what kind of massage I'm getting...)

26 is off to a nice start.

I brought home-made muffins into work yesterday. It's sort of considered obligatory to provide your own birthday cake for the rest of the office to pig out on - but I'm going to be profoundly sick of cake by the end of the week, so muffins seemed like a better idea. And everyone else seemed to like them.

My sister brought Alex and a birthday card around last night, and before I opened the door I heard him carefully practising "Happy Birthday Auntie Mewwyan!" (That's right - I am no longer "Auntie Maz". I am now "Auntie Mewwyan", which is as close as he can get to pronouncing my name, and makes me profoundly thrilled every time I hear it.)

Many thanks to all my lovely flist people who wished me a happy birthday. It was just wonderful getting to read that when I turned on the internet.