Here Comes Another One

There's a hole in the ozone layer with my name on it.

Actually, I doubt it. For one thing, I'm not sure that the fumes from printer toner destroy the ozone. They probably do cause some nasty disease I'll come down with later in life due to the months I spent, at my previous state job, with the department's printer in the back of my cubicle. To this day I can only hope I got out in time.

I see a few people from the old place at break now and then - Jason is still there, and Ernest of course, and there's a new guy who's actually 3MBG material - if there were still a 3MBG (sighhhhh). There's still fodder for the group, too; I bump into Coworker-You-Idiot occasionally, though I'm afraid I pretend not to see him. It's not often. I'll pop into the Kwik-E-Mart for a Chronicle, and he'll be there buying State Employee Chow of some kind or another. He's still got the zip-off pants and the antenna coming out of his head, thank God! It's reassuring to know that some things have stayed the same.

As for me, aside from being a little lonely at times, I still feel perfectly normal - but then, I would, wouldn't I?

My recent assault on the environment stems from the fact that I'm teaching a class tomorrow and Friday to a group of employees from other divisions who will come in to help us answer our 1-800 line in case of an evacuation. Most of them are returning, having helped out in last year's efforts, but a few, bless them! are new. This will be our last year to receive their assistance, unfortunately. One of the whimsical outcomes of this past legislative session is that the divisions these helpful people belong to are being removed from my agency and will be set up as an agency of their own.

It puts us in a real bind, because those divisions are really the only ones, besides us, who have direct dealings with the public. Even assuming we could cut through enough red tape to be able to request much-needed seasonal assistance from some other division, I'm not sure we'd want it. Picture Coworker-You-Idiot handling emergency phone calls. You know he'd hit on all the female evacuees. If it were me, I'd take my chances with the hurricane.

So I've done lots of research, I've compiled updates to the manual, I've printed up enough copies that I may now personally be responsible for the destruction of more trees than Ike was, I created handouts, and it goes without saying that I put together a kick-ass PowerPoint. This is the fun part of my job - well, this, and most of the other parts, of course.

Oh yeah, and for the other thing, I can't figure out how you're supposed to put your name on a hole, seeing as how a hole is where something to put your name on isn't, capisce? Still, sorry about the ozone layer.

Top Ten Signs You Need a New Job

10. While working, you overhear your cube neighbor improvising cheery little ditties about suicide.

9. Your plants appear have eaten your pencil sharpener. They are still hungry.

8. Your manager asks anxiously that you please not plan to be sick anywhere near the holidays.

7. Phlirting with the phlebotomist at the blood drive is the high point of your month.

6. Four hours' solid work in the mainframe database application leaves you with an unusual sense of accomplishment.

5. You no longer have the heart to put together humorous, animated PowerPoint presentations about your surroundings.

4. Of the five trial-size packets of personal lubricant you left in the basket in the ladies' room on Thursday, only one remains, which means that everyone else apparently had a much more interesting weekend than you did. You have seen these women. You are dismayed and alarmed.

3. You find yourself overwhelmed with self-righteous rage if anyone suggests you might take shorter than a 30-minute break.

2. Even the most die-hard skeptics in your office are forced to admit that Scott Adams walks secretly among you.

And the straw to snap the spine of the most stalwart dromedary:

1. It's the end of the day. You're standing at the sink in the office kitchenette, washing out your coffee cup. When you've finished, you turn around and discover someone standing barely eighteen inches behind you. You do your best to convert your involuntary yip of alarm into a "hi!"

It wakes him up.

Everybody Loves PowerPoint

Most of the past week at work was spent putting together a PowerPoint presentation on the ins and outs of the bureaucratic process that governs an administrative function of the state highway system. Our office receives and researches requests from local entities, circulates them internally, then puts together the documentation to present to a higher body, which closely reviews the materials in order to arrive at a careful and well-thought-out decision.

Putting together this presentation is probably the most fun I've had yet at work. I've worked with PowerPoint before, but had no idea you could do so much with it. You could practically make a feature-length film! Though it's pretty cumbersome, and once you have multiple animated elements all depending on one another's timing, it's much too easy to mess up.

I know my presentation will probably have to be toned down a little before I'm allowed to give it to a real audience, but I'm pushing for the original version. The bureaucratic process isn't really known for its excitement factor. A few explosions and the odd flying farm animal can only help.

They might make me redo my closing slide.

But that's okay. From now on, if you ever come across an official-looking document with "WHATEVER" stamped across it backwards, you'll know that PowerPoint, and I, were involved.