Ahahahahahaha, work, how so surreal?
Okay, so, the thing is, my job is essentially Do All Of That Shit No One Else Has Time To Do. This sounds less hectic then it actually is, until I explain that our firm has offices all over the country and our marketing department consists of
three people. I am included in that count. As such, the tasks I get assigned vary wildly in tedium level and difficult, and some of them are ridiculously awesome, and some of them suck a lot, because that is the nature of having this kind of job.
TODAY, one of the things on my to-do list involved distributing some materials to like forty different attorneys, so before I left for lunch, I popped over to the mail room to procure some inter-office envelopes. I am pretty tight with most of the people who work in my office, because I have this policy about, um, general kindness, and a number of the people I work with do
not have this policy, so I am pretty well-liked as a result. However, there is one woman who works in the mail room who either really, really hates me or...well, no. I'm pretty sure she just really, really hates me, and I cannot figure out why, but such is life! Generally I do not let it get me down.
However, when she is the only person in the mail room, things can get...a little odd.
Me: Hey, can I swing back behind the counter and grab--
Angry Coworker: No. Only mail room personnel can come behind the counter.
NB: this is not true; I have been behind the counter many a time! Several of those times I was allowed back there by
the director of the mail room. However, I pressed on.
Me: Okay then! Sorry, I just need like forty inter-office envelopes, and I didn't want to make you get--
Angry Coworker: You need HOW many inter-office envelopes?
Me: Um. Forty? I know it's a lot, and I didn't want to be obnoxious--
Angry Coworker: Too late.
Okay. Guys, at this point, I am annoyed. However, a) lots of things annoy me and I have learned to pick my battles, and b) I spent a number of years working several jobs in the customer service industry, and have as such developed the default response of you're-pissed-off-so-smile-harder-instead-of-committing-murder while in the workplace. I smile harder. I smile so hard it
hurts.
Me: I'm really sorry! I'd be happy to just grab them myself--
Angry Coworker: Well, why didn't you offer to do that to begin with?
Me: I...but I...that's what I...
Angry Coworker: Not that it would have mattered, since you can't go behind the desk, but you could have at least
offered.
Me: ....
Angry Coworker: Whatever. It'll take about forty-five minutes, you're just going to have to wait. I'm really busy.
Please note: I can SEE THE STACK OF ENVELOPES. THEY ARE
WITHIN MY REACH. And she is busy, by the way,
reading an Us Weekly magazine. But I swallow my irritation because I am a
professional and I do not scream at people for being irrational and I certainly do not throw myself across counters and run off with a handful of envelopes, cackling madly.
Even when I really, really want to.
Me: Okay! That's fine. I'm going to go to lunch, then.
Angry Coworker: Well,
fine. Forty, you said?
Me: Yeah, if you've got them. Thanks!
Angry Coworker: Whatever.
I go to lunch. I eat a delicious sandwich and try not to think about the fact that
getting envelopes is apparently a trial now. And when I get back, the envelopes are at my desk.
Correction: the envelopes are
all over my desk.
I count them. She's brought two hundred.
Alright, I think to myself,
alright, whatever, at least they are here. I do what I need to do with the forty envelopes I had originally sought, explaining to a friend of mine who works in the mail room what happened while I work. He laughs hysterically (Angry Coworker is like this with everyone, it's not just me, her continued employment is an ongoing mystery), and helps me return the
one hundred and sixty extra envelopes to their rightful spot. When we get to the mail room--and keep in mind that my arms are
full of envelopes--Angry Coworker gives me a very unimpressed look.
Angry Coworker: What, do you need
more?
GUYS. YOU GUYS. HOW IS THIS MY LIFE??????
ETA: Oh, also, because I said it in the comments somewhere the other day but then, uh, failed to mention it here: if you like, y'all can feel free to
follow me on Twitter. I mention this NOT to be one of those people who is all AHAHAHAHA I NEEDZ FOLLOWERS YO but because I have this tendency to...um...mention that I'm going to try to finish a fic and then I get people going HEY I AM F5ING OVER HERE and sometimes things take longer than I mean them to and, uh. I thought a twitter account might be easier? Since, you know, people update their twitter feeds anyway and, uh. *Hands*
I make no promises about the content and actually mostly I use it as yet another medium through which to flail at
angelgazing BUT I AM GOING TO USE IT TO LET YOU GUYS KNOW WHEN I POST FIC and, uh. Okay. Shutting up now?