The Gripping Hand

I honestly cannot believe my new job is in the same agency as the old one.

The bad side of this is that I have been kept too busy, so far, to be able to take regular-length breaks at regular times. And the really bad side of this is that everyone else is so normal, so healthy, so cheerful and intelligent and functional, that I am not sure what I'm going to blog about anymore.

There is no Bubbly Bitching Nonsmoker in the new place; and as of today, there isn't one in the old place either. They've been collecting dirt on her for quite a while - it takes a lot to fire a state employee - and apparently today, the scales tipped over far enough that she was escorted out of the building. By the Sheriff, of all people.

She's something special. I always felt sort of a wary affinity for her. I know she tended to bite, but she had a good sense of humor, and I was usually safe because I tended to stay out of her way. Except for the times Robbie and I were jaywalking to Dominican Joe, standing in the center turn lane, waiting for traffic to pass, and she drove up and we were blocking her way and do you know what? She did not run us over. Not even once. It really seems like that ought to count for something.

Maybe it did. Robbie has been gone for a few months now. I was still there until last Friday. Maybe my leaving was what tipped the balance!

More likely it's just an accident of timing, and the poor panicmonger, who has not yet managed to get a replacement for Robbie in, now has three vacancies to fill. It was suggested at afternoon break today (which I managed to attend by the clever expedient of working through lunch) that the Sheriff is taking a new tack, and plans to eliminate the PM simply by getting rid of everyone who reports to her. So she'd better hurry up and hire some new people, and fast.

If we see the popcorn lady from day before yesterday again, I might send her over.

More New Guises

There was a flurry of activity today, with two new people starting in our group. One was assigned to shadow me, but I consider myself to have failed as a trainer in that she didn't go on break with us. Maybe tomorrow, though. She does seem like a pretty cool person. "What's the panicmonger really like?" she asked me in hushed tones as I was walking her through a set of costruction plans, only of course she didn't actually refer to the boss as "the panicmonger," or else she wouldn't have had to ask, would she?

"She gets a bit anxious about things sometimes," I said, carefully, "but she's a nice person."

Perhaps the extensive collection of Dilberts pinned to my cube wall gave her a hint. Or the "This is a No Kitten Zone" sign. (But where would kittens be coming from? Who would be producing litter upon litter of - oh.)

The other new guy also seems interesting and funny, though he was too tied up with paperwork all day to come to break. Guess what? He's an experienced sysadmin.

We're having a happy hour Friday, and I really hope he shows up, because then it can double as his going-away. Assuming he's still here Friday, of course.

And of course with new people coming in, our IT contact is bustling about, getting computers and phones and software access set up, a process that generally takes about a month, because for some mysterious reason I've never completely understood, there appears to be no standard procedure for this. It's like a big surprise every time. "Wait - new employees?! Whaaaaa?!?" Not as big a surprise, perhaps, as some of the things the IT contact finds on the computers of employees who have left. "You wouldn't believe the kinds of pictures people keep on their work computers!" he told me, laughing.

I blushed. "I was young," I said. "I needed the money."

Maybe tomorrow we can incorporate the two new people into break and see if they fit in, only I forgot to mention, it's not technically break anymore. We are now the Three-Martini Union, and what we're doing for 30-45 minutes plus, twice a day, is going on strike. We can't get in trouble for that, and as a side benefit, I'm pretty sure we're permitted by applicable state law to employ hired goons to rough up the smokers and other non-union members who try to muscle in on our territory. Maybe even required. I should probably check into that a little further before proceeding, though, just to be on the safe side.

Maybe I can assign one of the new people to do some online research on the topic for me tomorrow.

Life Imitates Reality

Work tends to be fairly peaceful, though when you stop to think about it, it really shouldn't be. We've got all the necessary ingredients for a bitch-slap showdown of incredible magnitude. Yet somehow it never happens. We need someone to act as a catalyst: someone to feed the flames, to play personalities off against each other; someone to whip everyone into a complete frenzy, then stand around shaking his head and looking terribly disappointed in us all.

We need Jerry Springer. And we're ready for him, because as of today, Bubbly Nonsmoker has just about run out of bubbles.

This morning, as Robbie and I headed out to break, we caught Butch and got him to join us. Butch is a long-termer. He's always been friendly and welcoming, but he takes his job seriously, so he never hung around with us newbie riffraff. He's a quiet, good-natured sort, and not one to rock the boat. He's been doing this job for twenty-odd years. Our panic-mongering supervisor has, in only a few short months, worn away over two decades' worth of easygoing, laissez-faire morale. Butch goes on break with us now.

Bubbly Nonsmoker passed us in the hall as we were on our way out the door. "You don't get to go anywhere," she snapped at Butch. "The boss wants to meet with us in her office."

"I didn't get a call or an email, and she didn't put it on my calendar," shrugged Butch. (Our supervisor is morbidly obsessed with having everything scheduled on our calendar. She'd make us post our potty breaks there if she thought she could get away with it.) "I'm going on break."

Bubbly Nonsmoker was so taken aback by this show of defiance, you could almost detect a wisp of leftover smoke curling from one flared nostril. "Fine!" she barked, turning her back and stalking off.

In other news, that new system that Automation implemented a couple of months ago to simplify our work process isn't doing so well. The one we protested, you know, because it would send its automatic alerts to everybody every time anyone did anything? Well, it turns out that Automation isn't getting the notifications they need to do their jobs because they've all turned off their alerts, because they're all sick of getting a bunch of damn messages all the damn time.

Their proposed solution? Keep using the new system, just be sure you also send an email to the Automation staffer involved so they know to check their alerts.

This is the part of the show where security guards drag someone off the stage, kicking and screaming obscenities. Possibly me.

But there's good news today, too. Word is that the panic-monger has finally hired someone for one of the three openings in our department! The new person is supposed to start July 1, and I'm dying of curiosity. Will s/he be funny? Will s/he be smart?? Will s/he be cute??? Will s/he be playful???? Will s/he, in short, be Three-Martini Break Group material?????

Or ooh! Maybe it will be Jerry Springer!

The Long and Breakless Day

I'm at work as I write this, and not enjoying it very much. Robbie is out for the rest of the week. He got a baby kitten last night, and has named her Bullock. He's staying home for a few days to take care of her, and get her acclimated to her new surroundings.

Wait for it... wait for it...

He's out on caternity leave!

Bill's out in the field. We three are all that's left of the Three-Martini Break Group. Oh, there are a few emergency back-up members, but I don't really count them. I'll go to break without Robbie or without Bill, but without both? Forget it.

How did I ever get through the workday without three-martini breaks?

At least there's the lunchtime walk on the hike-and-bike to break up the day. It's lovely out, though summer begins to rear its fevered head. And you catch the most interesting snippets of conversation from other people. "Elective dog surgery," a man was shouting into his cell phone just as I passed.

Band name!

Many of the joggers have dogs in tow. Sometimes literally, in the case of a few of the smaller dogs, which are clearly not ASPCA-rated for use at that speed. Most of the joggers call cheerful encouragement to their pets: "Here we go! Good boy! All right!" But one man was barking orders like a drill sergeant. "Get GOING, dog! Come ON!! MOVE YOUR ASS!!!"

I just don't understand dog people.

Oooh! Robbie just texted me to tell me that Bullock had her first poopy in the litter box. He's very excited. He took a picture.

Maybe next week I can get him to bring her to break!

Get the Umbrella

It looks to start raining frogs.

The Bitching Smoker quit smoking a couple of months ago, which I can deal with, and I'm glad for her. But she's also recently quit bitching.

I am concerned.

In fact, for the last few weeks or so, she's been positively chirpy. I'm given to understand that she's currently on a year's probation for her grouchy and uncooperative behavior, so she's minding her Ps and Qs; but must she actually effervesce?! I keep expecting the other shoe to drop. Or the other frog, as the case may be.

Meanwhile, we poor sad remnants of the break group are left without shelter. Greatly outnumbered, we no longer pwn* the break area the way we used to do. Other people freely come and sit in our area even when we are there. Once we actually took break with some smokers (though one of them was Diane, who is lots of fun, so it wasn't so bad). And if someone else is there when we arrive at our God-given time for breaks, they don't look guilty, cut their break short and skulk away like they are supposed to.

I feel, I remarked to a friend yesterday, like deposed royalty living in exile. It's hard to see the peasants enjoying what is rightfully ours.

Perhaps the most apocalyptic sign of all is that I've been genuinely busy for the last couple of weeks. The work itself may not matter much in the greater scheme of things, but I can't help noticing that it's easy to forget that what you're doing is pointless, if you're kept busy enough. (This rule doesn't apply to 10-keying.)

With my mind actually somewhat occupied by work for much of the day, and with breaks rather sparsely attended (though still great, don't get me wrong), it's kind of hard to find things to blog about. I am uninspired (sigh).

But I'm going to a silly movie at the Alamo and an art party with climbable sculpture tonight, so everything should be better tomorrow. Hopefully it won't rain.

-----------------------------
*I don't actually know what that word means.

Break Time!

It sounds so simple: twice a day for fifteen minutes or so, a few friendly and more or less like-minded coworkers get together to hang out and enjoy the nice weather, or else take shelter somewhere against the cold and rain. They make chitchat, they blow off a little steam about work, they keep casually up-to-date with one another's lives. No biggie, necessarily, but they're friends.

An email exchange with my friend b.r. today, and today's news that three-martini breaker emeritus Thomas has now received a job offer elsewhere that he's been anxiously awaiting, have me pondering sadly on how much more than that a simple fifteen-minute break can be. Bryan's last day is Friday, so with Thomas' departure there will be three of us regulars left. There are also two others who participate now and again, but aren't really quite as into the whole break experience as I feel they could be.

I've never worked anywhere before where I hit it off so completely and so comfortably with such a number of other people. Do you remember what it was like in school, when the people you talked to in your classes, your roommates and dorm neighbors, and other campus regulars just sort of automatically became your lifelong friends, without even trying? It's like that. Break was something magical. Even this diminished in number, you know, it still is. It frustrates me hugely when something happens - some ill-timed meeting or work project - to preclude break. I brought my parents to afternoon break when they came to Austin to visit. It's that important!

Break at its best is more fun than just about anything. Everybody there is incredibly smart, wildly funny, friendly, and good-natured. We all have great chemistry: we can easily take turns making the jokes and being the audience; one idea leads to another leads to another; we all seem to bring out the best in each other. Seriously. If you haven't been there, you don't know how much fun it can be. I'd come in from break wiping mascara from the corners of my eyes and feeling like I actually was important to a whole bunch of the coolest people I knew; and I assume, I hope, that's about the way everybody felt - minus, in some cases, the mascara.

And of course there are often lulls in the conversation; it's not like it's a non-stop laugh riot. We have off days too. But this is also okay. We're pretty comfortable just hanging out.

I want everybody to find the perfect place and be fulfilled, but I wish break never had to end.