Who sings that, anyway? I forget. The Kinks, maybe?
Anyhoo, today at work I am patiently waiting to be granted access to a folder so I can start indulging in the sheer ecstasy of Change Management process documentation. (Hoooboy! Is it hot in here?)
While I was waiting... and waiting... and waiting... I started to write an innocent blog entry and my PC came to a screeching halt. I know they have LANDesk here and they can remotely control your PC when stuff is blowing up, so naturally I worried they were spying. Because ya know, I'm so worth spying on, and the world revolves around me.
Anyway, my PC never recovered and no LANDesk tasks were showing up in Task Manager, so I rebooted. Upon reboot and hitting Ctrl + Alt + Del I got a bitchbox that said (and I paraphrase), "Don't think for a second that anything you do on this computer is in any way confidential. We're a bank, and we take security seriously. Don't goof off." Next, I went to get a drink and saw all of my bosses in a closed-door meeting, so naturally I worried that they're plotting my dismissal. :-)
Of course, just a moment ago we ran into each other in the breakroom and had a chipper conversation about how excited they are that I'm on board and am doing an ass-kicking job. So, my workplace spidey-sense needs some calibration, methinks.
Tonight, my ISI managers and I are taking my WSFS managers to a Sixers game. I have no interest in going whatsoever. I am cold (which means grumpy) and a little tired (so much for going to bed at 10:30pm like I promised I would), and I just wanna go home and sink into my happy bed after a happy bath and finish reading one of two books I'm reading and for some reason can't seem to get all the way through. I also have this 'fourth-wall' rule about my co-workers. I don't want to bond with them, I don't want to have a beer with them, I don't want to tell them about my life. I just want them to know I'm good at what I do and leave it at that. I don't want to pretend to know or care about the Sixers and whatever roller-bowling tofutti-throwing full-contact curling sport they play. I don't want to know about their kids or their divorce or their new car. I like work relationships to stay work relationships. The less emotional investment I have with people at work, the better. Makes leaving that much easier. (Good ol' Always Have an Exit Plan Knapp.)
But then again, knowing me, I'll go and have a fine time. I hope some fun people from ISI are going. R is a pretty good time, for a twink who looks like Eddie Munster.
Dude, it is so cold out... December has finally arrived in full effekt, yo. Today's high: 36. Un-freakin-acceptable.
Today I am wearing silk thermal leggings from LL Bean under my wool dress pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt under my sweater. I am also wearing the fleece scarf from my coat because I cannot get warm. My boss here said I looked like Bob Cratchett.
You know, I love my family... I just pray I can convince them to move somewhere warm someday. Because I can't take this cold stuff. Nuh-uh.
OK, I'll stop being so grumpy.
Anyway, if you didn't catch Stereolabrat's post yesterday where she talks about how amazing eyedrops are, go there now. It is in no way safe for work, but you will pee yourself. (Which also isn't so safe for work. Yeah... not so much.)
|Fortune Teller Miracle Fish today tells me: Yikes! Put me down! Your hands are COLD! (and coming from a cold-blooded creature, this says a lot.)|