Incidents of Incompetence

Ever since our hours were cut at work, I've been the last one to come in to the office. There are three people in pre-press. One comes in at 8 AM, the other at 8:30, and me at 9. Being the "new" guy and lowest on the totem pole, I have to tend to certain maintenance tasks. There's a huge plate maker in the room that is highly sensitive to temperature and humidity (or so they tell me; evidence is to the contrary). Before any work is done, there are five humidifiers that need to be filled. I can't exactly do that before getting to work. It's not that I mind doing it, but there was a two-month stretch where I didn't even bother.

No one noticed.

Another oddity is when a super-rush job is waiting on my desk, long before I come in, with a note saying "plates due at 9 AM."

Someone sure missed the Logic Train. How can I do a job that's due when I clock in?

Speaking of clocking in: right next to the hand print scanner used to punch in and out is a hand-sanitizer dispenser. Not a totally bad idea during flu season, but it might help to, you know, fill it with the hand-sanitizer. I don't care too much; all of our immune systems need practice.



One more story for the Fail File:

Bellevue has an automatic system for refilling prescriptions. Just call in, and 3 business days later, it'll be ready for pickup. I made the call last Wednesday, and went to pick up the refill Monday afternoon. Go in, take a number, get called to the window, they pass the pills on to the pick up department and give you a voucher to take to the cashier. This takes around 10 or 20 minutes. Then you get called to the pickup window five minutes later. For some reason, this last bit too two fucking miserable hours. Imagine 50 people (that's right, 50 people, no exaggeration) waiting in a room no larger than the size of your living room with seating for 16, waiting at least two hours to pick up medicine. One person was waiting for five hours and was quite rightly throwing a shit-fit.

My blood sugar had plummeted by the end of that ordeal, so I stopped at the au bon pan stand in the hospital. I picked up an eggplant & tomato sandwich, paid, and walked away, tearing at the wrapper. I took a giant bite, chewed, and spat it out.

Great. Ham & Swiss. Walked back, said the label was wrong, and before I could say anything else, the cashier correctly guessed that I was a veggie, and profusely apologized. I got the correct sandwich, and finally left. It was such a tiring day.