I put together the status report for the client on the Hell's Own Software project. Since 90% of it is on "hold" at the moment, that little job takes 15 minutes instead of the 2-1/2 hours it used to take.

I could make a phone call, but you know how I feel about rushing into the day.... Besides, sad to say, I've already mentally "left" this company and I feel a lot less pressure from my never-imperative work ethic than I did a week ago.

Add to that the fact that I'm a teeny bit cranky about having gotten a call from a client looking for a box they sent in for repairs three weeks ago, and....

Hmmm. Okay, I researched that one. I found the box, which is accompanied by a letter written two, not three, weeks ago, so the box has been here, at most, for seven working days. So, partly the client was lying.

But there's also reference in the letter to phone discussions with the Tweenybopper, currently on vacation, and since she never bothered to check the box in or fill out the paperwork, I have no idea what the conversations were about, whether or not it was established the client has to pay for the repairs, or anything else. (It seems to have been in dispute.)

Every time I think my work ethic is sad, I should go to the shipping room and take a look at the stacks of unopened shipped cartons, all full of boxes maybe/maybe not needing to be repaired or checked in or cleaned or have some other action taken on them. It's beyond my comprehension to understand how someone could leave for a week on vacation and leave that kind of mess.

(Yes, I know I haven't been busy for the past four months and I could have pitched in to help her with this project. For the record, I go into that room at least once a month and do a massive cleaning and tidying and ask the Tweenybopper what all of the boxes currently stacked around are and what needs to be done with them, and she never wants my help with them.

Considering that I'm already doing a number of the jobs she was hired to do, including answering the phones, getting the mail, running off the armloads of sales people at the front door, faxing, copying, and cleaning the office kitchen until I went on strike, I don't think it's unreasonable of me to think that she could do some of the jobs she was hired for...accept help when it's offered, or ask for help when she needs it.) (Or at least leave some blasted documentation for the people who have to clean up behind her.)

If Extension 17 ever shows up for work today (it's 10:45), I have no idea whether or not to ask him to work on this box. And the client is waiting for me to call her back and tell her what's going on.

For the record, I'm not as cranky as this section of the post makes me sound. Switching the hormones to morning, instead of evening, seems to have eliminated 90% of that little problem with psychotic episodes. I'm low-level grouchy sometimes, but I haven't had Uzi fantasies recently.