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Adventures at work

My favorite people are the people who act like explaining how dire the situation is will make technical problems go away.

Allow me to explain, our machine is currently crippled. My young assistant was… less delicate with it than he could have been and… broke the motherfucker. Not his fault, not really. He was sick, and dealing with the machine when it breaks down is called “Fighting the Dragon” for a reason.

Most people react with disappointment, or if they’re regulars a sigh of resignation, since that fucking thing only works 2 days out of 5. Now, I had come in that day and had a look, cooed softly and waved my hand over the casing while chanting old phrases and crushing herbs into the gears. That got it back on its feet, like usual, because the machine loves me. I understand that it’s like an old and dying dog. It wants to work, but it is sadly on its last legs and it’s time for the shotgun. So it worked for a while.

About an hour later it went down again and this time herbs and chants couldn’t do anything for it. I drew a pentagram on the floor talked with an imp, shot lightning from my fingers, pretended to be a madman, planned the best route into Kira’s stronghold, performed the ancient rites and spoke the incantations of old… nothing. At this point, it was getting late and I was getting frustrated. Also, the machine had bit me on my ring finger and I was bleeding everywhere. So I left to the front counter, where the tape and paper towel are kept for when I need a makeshift bandage. While I’m wrapping and taping my finger and looking at the small pool of blood on the counter, this person shows up. My thoughts where taken from wondering if I could argue the blood was a sacrifice and were put upon getting this extra frustration the fuck out of my face.

Note: All statements from me are what I actually meant while I said very polite things. I can make “Hi there, how are you today?” do the same job as “Get thee the fuck out my face or your skin shall be scored by the blade of my knife and I shall revel in your pain.” However, sometimes you have to know me to get that me and Humpty Dumpty can make words work for us in ways they were never intended.

Me (bleeding): “Sorry, my machine is fuxxored. Can’t do nothin’ right now.”

Them: “But I need these by four!”

Me (Mystified): “I did just speak, right? Four you say? That’s nice. I can’t do anything right now. Verily, my machine doesn’t work. I refer you to my earlier statement, what ended with the word fuxxored.”

Them: “But I have to have these by four! This is IMPORTANT!”

Me (carefully trying not to say what I’m thinking): “Yeah… but… see… the machine… is… um… fucked. Not to put too fine a point on it or anything, but the machine is so fucked that your mom is a normal person by comparison. I can’t just wave a hand and make the bitch work, and I’m not talking about your mom now. I waved my hand earlier, because I command dark forces and that frankly scares my boss shitless. It worked for like five minutes and then went down like your mom being shown a twenty. I have since declared the machine fucked. I now await a man from India who has archaic tools and a direct line to Shiva, and that motherfucker is going to have to make three trips before this things works again.”

Them: “I! NEED! THEM! BY! FOUR!”

Me (giving up): “Well shit, why didn’t you say so? Fuck, if I’d known it was important I’d make the serious technical problem that’s got my boss crying in the office like a little bitch just go away. Hell, I know about having important shit going on. You just go grab me a male child and I’ll cut his throat over the machine in honor of the dark gods that control my evil corporate masters. That done, I’ll call upon great Zugthrulumoomoo to come and make this thing work again. Works faster if you get a first born.*”

Them: “Well, alright then.”

Me (looking at the clock): “Wait a second, it’s like five to four now. Even if the shit was working, there’s no fucking way I could get this done by four anyway.”

Them: “But I need them by four. You should be able to do this by four.”

And at that point, the rest is more or less just profanity and sound effects. Needless to say, blood is shed and naughty words are said. I suppose there was some screaming, and gurgling, I think I remember gurgling. I don’t honestly remember much after that, just a lot of red, then black and when I woke up, I was in Lindisfarne again. That’s okay though, the monks there know me and they let me sit in the ruins until someone came and convinced me to come back.

I would like to point out that 90% of the encounters actually go like this…

Nice Customer: Is your machine working?

Me: No, it’s down again.

Nice Customer: Do you know when it will be working again?

Me: If the gods smile upon us, tomorrow or the next day.

Nice Customer: Okay, I’ll come back Friday.

Me: Or you can try another location.

Nice Customer: No, there’s no rush and I like coming here.

Me: Well, you have a nice day then.

It’s just that other 10% that takes every little difficulty we’re having and acts like we’re doing it deliberately to fuck with them that get me down.

*I’d just like to say that this won’t actually work. If I could get the machine working that easily, I wouldn’t have nearly the number of nose bleeds that fucking thing causes.

June 3, 2011 Posted by | Uncategorized | Leave a comment

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June 3, 2011 Posted by | Uncategorized | | Leave a comment