Monday, Apr. 19, 2004 - 3:59 P.M.

Assume you have a large project. Assume large project is converting the office from one local/long distance/internet provider to another. Assume you have a Type-A-To-The-Extreme boss who will accept no excuses for anything less than perfection. Assume screwing up said project will inconvenience every single person in your office and will not be easy to remedy. Assume large, hairy conversion gets screwed up.

Now. Assume that it wasn�t necessarily you who screwed up large project but rather the vendor�s representative who sold you the service and told you, nay promised, repeatedly, that your installation would go smoothly and despite you listing every possible thing that could go wrong, seemingly had an answer for all possible obstacles that may be encountered. Assume installation did not go at all smoothly but was a rather bush league, jerry rigged, ginormous clusterfuck.

Okay. Assume you told Type-A it wasn�t your fault. Assume he listened patiently, his face formed into a kind look of understanding about the situation while he agreed that clearly you were not to blame and then gently chastised you for being na�ve and foolish enough to believe vendor representative who told you such nonsense. Assume you land back on Planet Reality to find Type-A has not gone soft and is in fact the same Type-A he�s always been, he has just slammed his hand in a door, he hasn�t had lunch, he is �ber pissed and he�s coming to see YOU.

Stay with me. Assume you try to tap dance in league of dearly departed Gregory Hines in an attempt to explain how this all could have happened, blaming every possible snafu on the, conveniently (and suspiciously) absent vendor representative. Assume Type-A doesn�t give a shit about excuses and most certainly fails to respect the beauty of your ability to tap dance with words, be them lies or be them not. Assume you are then summarily fired for a total lack of competency.

Whew! Now that I�ve gotten the worst case scenario out of my head I feel much, much better. I mean, I am untouchable. Can�t be touched. Can�t touch this! I can handle anything strolling down the pike. Assumptions Shmumptions. Suck it problems!

Wha? Ha! Ha-HA! No you didn�t just tell me the phones don�t work. That�s a great joke Ms. Receptionist. Chris Rock watch out! What�s that? The fax machines aren�t working either? I know you are pulling my leg missy! You are quite the jokester. Jesting, Jesting. Huh? No internet either? What?

Welcome to my world. Where there is a Type-A, there are no assumptions, excuses are not permitted and the phone lines are FUBAR.

You Give Me Fervor - Friday, Feb. 17, 2006
Revamped Sex Camp - Thursday, Jan. 26, 2006
I'm Not Dead - Tuesday, Jan. 10, 2006
Ebert And Roeper? Watch Your Backs. - Tuesday, Nov. 29, 2005
Coffee? Tea? Map? - Monday, Nov. 07, 2005

� Purplecigar

�

�

previous - next