The procrastination situation

Once again, I am called upon to produce a fully-developed technical proposal THE FUCKING DAY BEFORE it is due. In my industry, the timelines are sometimes short, but the brain-donor who sits behind the mahogany desk in the fancy upstairs office has had this tender wedged up her arse since last month. Maybe she expected me to know by osmosis or geomancy or Fast Radio Burst that she wanted my help, because actual instructions appear to be a bridge too far.

When she finally decided to pull it out, she realised that it was due tomorrow and sent me a frantic message last night. I let it go to voicemail, because I was off the clock by then and I don’t get paid enough to put up with after-hours office horseshit.

To be honest, I don’t know why I’m annoyed. This happens so regularly; it may as well be in my job description.

Time machine

If I had some input into the planning of how I’m supposed to allocate my time to various tasks, corporate life wouldn’t be so dire. Unfortunately, the top-down approach usually ends up being something like the project management equivalent of trying to pack a week’s worth of clothing into an overnight bag. Sacrifices need to be made – and I’m not just talking about my sanity and will to live.

The terrifying truth is that this is typical for the industry. Think about that the next time you drive across a bridge. Maybe pack some brown trousers in your overnight bag.

Tied in knots

Good news everyone! In response to dinahmow‘s request, here is some bonus content.

Anyway, the Happy Event(TM) took place some time ago and my boss did, in fact, give us a wedding present in the form of a gift voucher. I’ve never quite got the whole concept of these things. It’s basically, “here’s some money, but I decide where you spend it”.

Anyway, for Ms Mow’s edification, here is a picture of me and my best man hoping that the testicle-eating pixies are taking a day off:

This is not a manipulated image in any way. I really look like that and he has a bad case of pixelitus.

I’ve got you pegged

It’s been pretty busy at the office. Not busy enough, apparently. There are moves afoot to introduce a new clock-in system for the peons. I saw this brochure on my boss’s desk:
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Should I be worried?

Phonedamental

I have a new phone in my office. The old one was fine, but this one is apparently better and will somehow save the company money. I’m not sure how, but I’m afraid to ask in case they get the IT manager to explain it to me. Anyway, it has a shitty display like the old mobile phones used to have ten years ago. It shows me important things I may be in danger of forgetting, like my name and the date. It also lists who called when I was away from my desk. This seems a bit redundant, because we have a receptionist who is employed to do that very thing, but I guess those Angry Birds aren’t going fling themselves.

Recently I’ve been arriving at my desk first thing in the morning to find an accusing “M” on the display telling me that I have a missed call. Inevitably, it’s a “caller identity blocked” number and the details indicate that the person phoned at some insane hour like 5 a.m. Who is this individual? Why is he/she feverishly dialling me at the crack of dawn, expecting an answer? It would be understandable if I worked at a fire station, but I don’t. I attend meetings and produce pie-charts for a living, so I can’t begin to imagine what could be so desperately urgent that it requires my attention outside of office hours.

There is no way this can end well. All that is going to happen is that the phoner is going to get frustrated and I’m going to care a little bit less every day.

So if you are this person, please stop it. Go back to bed. You probably need the sleep.