Wednesday, June 22, 2016

I got a walk-in-the-pod thanks

Because I am so naturally gifted—it's not natural; it's time-worn—I do a lot of work. And, thanks to the role I am in, I am doing boring back end website admin that had to be done but until I trotted along no one had the skills, patience and talent to pour through it like the knights of the Vale into the back end of the hapless Flayed Men. 

Some of the rebuilds have been scary big, and dealing with the quirks of SharePoint and its formatting carry-over when you paste in from Word causes no end of frustration. Today I hissed at a stubborn dot point that just would not appear on the first line under a header—"you fucking fuck, get the fucking fuck up there!". That and my machine was so sluggish I had to do a cold re-boot to speed it the fuck back up (1).

Today I got a thanks. She may have been passing but she came into the work pod (2) and thanked me for all the awesome effort I'd done for her team. 

I glowed with inner smugness. How could I not? I'd done a fucking awesome job.

(Stands, triumphant, in hero wind).

UPDATE: Got a passing-in-the-corridor thanks from a ++ for helping his team out. Fuck me it feels good to work for purpose and receive thanks for it. Maybe my values are driven by brain chemistry? I get a full-on rush from the helping then the getting thanks for it. It's possible I spend so much effort looking after people because that's how I look after myself—and that I prove everyone else wrong by my good works. 

UPDATE2: I got lost in my building again. I got 35m down a strange corridor before I realised I was on the wrong floor. My visual cue is now the purple flowers (I presume fake) on the white steel two-drawer cabinet on the left as I pass through the far section doors. Take that, getting lost. 

(1) I fully recognise that my suffering was very much first world—but I bet a farmer never rage quit a hoe. That being said I didn't rage quit the box—I calmly switched it off and waited a couple of minutes as I read a review about the upcoming Ghostbusters in my Time magazine. Ladies of comedy, I await the pleasure of your company.
(2) It sounds futuristic, doesn't it? A work pod. It's just a term for usually four or six workstations with a desk, computer and chair with the pod desks separated in lots of two and four (or just four) by waist-high dividers with the pods of four or six split from each other by neck-high dividers. Sometimes I get lost at my work—I end up on a different floor, outside the wrong door or find myself in a weird, rarely-used space like the back end of the far lifts. The building has a spooky magical feel to it. All I know is if I see the abandoned plushie ninja turtle, Raphael, at that empty workstation bookshelf that is just past the section doors then that means my pod lies one-and-a-half pods (2a) and a compactus further on. Thanks, Ninja Turtles!
(2a) Yes, you can have half a pod of two or three work stations in a line but they have no matching desks opposite them but a wall or compactus instead.  

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