Tuesday, November 07, 2006

Buttheads and Dickwads and Assholes, Oh My

What the fuck is the deal with people? Why are people so personally invested in what they do for money? I have reached my limit for being treated like I am a lower species in this fucking office. Just because I am a TEMP and answer the phone and shuffle some papers doesn’t mean that that is ALL I AM CAPABLE OF. And if you tell me something in person, YOU DO NOT NEED TO SEND ME AN EMAIL RESTATING EVERYTHING YOU JUST SAID. I am trembling mad right now.

I got just as pissed yesterday. Someone brought me three estimates that had gotten lost in the print room from the middle of last week. There were so many requests I could hardly keep up, most of them needed to be revised in some way, and I didn’t even realize that a couple of them did not make it back to me. Of course the first thing I did was hand them out so that the account exec could sign it, get approval and get it back to me to send out ASAP. A very short time later this angry exec came marching up to my desk with steam coming out of her ears—we’ll call her Ms. Muffet because I’m sure she would hate that. “Did you realize these were supposed to go out last week?”

“Yes, I didn’t realize they didn’t. The accountant just brought them out to me from the print room.”
“Well, these need to go out the same day!”
“I understand these need to go out the same day, and they usually do. I apologize for losing track of these and it won’t happen again.”

She seemed satisfied enough to turn away and start back toward her office, but after about five paces, she turned back around and started in again! Let it go Ms. Muffet, I left my time machine at home this morning so I can’t help you.

This made me a little cranky, if only partly because I made such a stupid mistake and proved their assumptions of me correct. I wasn’t done being cranky yet when I had a run–in with Twiggy so I actually snapped at her. Some random guy came in looking for one of the creatives so I paged him. One second later my phone rang and I saw it was Twiggy. “Oh hi, D__. I was trying to get S__.” She totally jumped down my throat with, “Why are you paging ME to find S__? HOW am I supposed to know where he is?!!” So I was totally snarky back, and I’m surprised I didn’t hear about it this morning, “I DIDN’T page you, D__, I paged S__. WHY would I page you looking for him?”

But I suppose that is why she’s being so fucking patronizing today with this email she sent me right after we spoke about not letting employees’ guests take themselves to their host’s office. I posted before about her freaking out about that dude just waltzing in, but today it was some guy’s wife and she’s here like twice a week! So not only did I have to hear that same spiel about potential thievery, but she also had to put it in writing for me because I am obviously an idiot.

Fuck this place. I wish they’d hurry up and fucking hire themselves a goddam receptionist, preferably one who IS an idiot so they’ll know a non-idiot when they see one. Not that it matters, most (thankfully not all) of these people are dicks, they have to have the last word and get all their digs in. I am really surprised no one has ended a conversation with me by saying, “Oh yeah, you’re fat, too!”

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