Title: When's Friday getting here, again?
SOLD MY SOUL TO ROCK AND ROLL! ACCKKK!
Spot the reference and win a million bucks. Bill the Cat is my hero, and that's
about what I feel like doing right now: standing on top of a desk in the cube
farm and screaming nonsense. Warning: bitching about my job follows. If you
don't want to read it, please go wander around my site or read one of my more
cheerful entries.
The NEXT luser who refuses to give me information I need to do my job, and then WHINES when I don't jump to immediately, is going to get sliced into very thin strips and sauteed in a nice white wine sauce. I mean it. This is ridiculous. I'll spare you the details; let me just say that if you're a tech recruiter, my resume is right here, okay? I've been doing frontline support for a year and a half, and I'm SICK of it. I'm not the only one either. This has been the topic of much water-cooler grumbling around the RC ever since our uber-cool boss's boss went back to Holland and we were left to fend off a manager on the make -- our new boss. Whee. Our cozy little office went rapidly from a very cool place to work to an extension of Dilbertland.
Queue time lately leaves me twitching helplessly after three hours and mumbling obscenities to myself while fantasizing about using carrot peelers on certain lusers' extremities. Today while the usual suspects were slacking off and smoking, Brent voiced my thoughts on the whole bloody mess: "I don't want to be a manager. I want to be a tech. Just lock me in a server room behind a computer and leave me alone... no users, no phones, just me and the servers. If they fuck up, I'll fix it. Just leave me ALONE. That's all I want."
Amen, my brother.
I've been listening to the tech support song all damn day. Do you blame me?
-- marcie.