How many companies do I work for?
March 22nd, 2009
I was tasked to come in today (Sunday) because a bunch of other companies within the same industry as my employer came in to critique my employer. Without going into too many details (gotta protect the innocent and…myself) let’s just say that this type of thing happens every five years or so and then again every 10 years. Considering the “big boss” is very new at the job, everyone’s a mess and in shambles because they must think those on the critiquing board have golden penises and vaginas or something. I simply look at it as we all put our pants on the same way to cover our golden penis or vagina (“and/or”? We won’t go there.)
So, these people are all sitting around the conference room table (did I mention that we spent $30k on that table because the last one was “chipped”? Oh, and, by the way, we’re a “non-profit.”) with their laptops open just patiently waiting for me to come around and authenticate their laptops to the wireless network along with giving them access to one of our printers. While I’m doing that, the questions and comments fly:
“Can we please get some power strips because I only have four hours of power on my battery?”
“Why didn’t you put an electrical outlet right there? ::pointing:: That’s what I would have done if this were my XXXXXX.”
“What do you mean you can’t give me access to let me listen to iTunes. I gotta have my music!!! [to this I thought, "aren't you supposed to be meeting here?"]
“Excuse me. EXCUUUUUSE ME!!!! ::snapping fingers:: It’s IMPERATIVE I get on next!!! I have to send an important email!! [found out later the "important email" was to his wife asking her what kind of wine to take back home with him.]
“You don’t know my tech support person’s administrative password? Why not? Can you call him right now and get it? [first of all, this is a Sunday afternoon. Second of all, I *really* don't think your IT department is going to give *me* *their* admin password.]
So I got them all settled and abruptly made my exit when who, all of a sudden, bumps into me but my curmudgeon coworker who promptly asks me if I remembered that we were to be here to get everyone all set up. “First of all, I’m not your “bitch” and second of all, if I hit you in the face, would you sue me for age discrimination because I’ve kicked an old man’s ass?”
Instead, I think I’ll just automatically forward the group’s shared account credentials to point to Barney the Dinosaur’s website whenever they try to access the Internet. Much more entertaining.
