2006-07-17

It's a Goddamn Printer

Let's a play a game.
It's a little like that corporate training trust game where you say who you would take to the desert island.

Only in this game, there's no coconut run drinks and no tree house.
This game takes place in Tucson Arizona, in July.

And it involves the air conditioning in your department.

Scene: Friday morning, you have a slightly hung-over feeling, either from the Coronas you drank the night before or from not sleeping so well because you got a little drunk when really, you just wanted to have a beer with your friend after working out.
It's Casual Friday, so it's all good in terms of being on time and having your hair blow-dried nicely. No need to stomp around in the closet, tearing up in frustration about how you don't have anything to wear to work that doesn't smell old or need ironing.

You get to work and there is a sound coming from the ceiling, directly over your desk, that is nothing short of awful.

You call the building guy and he says he's out for the day, so call HR.
You call HR and that contact is out for the day, too.
You call the front desk, who calls another person, to find out who to call when the people you're supposed to call are out for the day.
They call to tell you that they're going to call the guy who's third or fourth on the list.
That guy comes over and tells you he's not getting on a ladder to find out what's going on.
The building guy appears at your desk, I guess the meeting got cancelled, and tells you that he doesn't hear anything.
By now, it's 10 am and the Vice Presidents are all stopping at your desk to tell you that there is a horrible noise in their offices.
You are the closest cubicle to their offices, so you always field questions about printer, maintenance, schedules, telephony, and astrological phenomena that might lead to a department-wide better attitude when all three of them, and your manager, stop by to "advise" you of a "situation."
No matter what the issue, be it a complaint about the kitchen or a question about how to transfer a call, my internal answer, always and forever, is "It's a goddamn printer."
I say this inside illustrate how much I am not listening to the questions/complaints.

Why?
Because they don't pertain to me.
I'm not an executive secretary.
I'm not opposed to being support staff, but the fact is that I have a work-load that's unrelated to many of these questions that I am summarily not able to address.
I do not know whose keys are in the bathroom.
Yes I can take them to the front desk, the front desk that is closer to the bathroom than to me, the front desk that you just walked by on your quest to bring me these keys so I could take them to the front desk.
"It's a goddamn printer."

So noise. You're hearing the Bad Noise and you're hearing ABOUT the noise all day. It's understandable. The noise is really, really annoying.
Who wouldn't complain about it?
It's horrible.
"There's a ballast going out."
"That's gotta be the light."
"Is that in my office?"
"Do you hear that?"
"It's RIGHT in my office."
"Is there a swarm of prehistoric locusts that's just hatched and is buzzing loudly with anticipation of flying out of the vent and attacking me?"

"No. It's a goddamn printer."

The noise is over my desk and no doubt, it's bad, and neither of those statements is exaggeration.
I moved to a different desk and cleaned up my email for the afternoon because I needed to try to head off the stroke I was about to have.

Now it's Monday and we have diagnosis. It turns out that the noise isn't from a failing light but it's from the air conditioner.

Choose for your department:
Deal with the noise
or
Deal with the heat.
Your money or your life.
Same diff.

Whatever I did or didn't do in a former lifetime, I fucking repent already.

I chose the heat since, based my historical lack of good luck, I better get used to the heat.
I hear hell is pretty warm.

And even if the world isn't ending, as it is wont to do when I least expect it to carry on, then at least I am going to get a whole new round of questions and comments to which I will still respond, "It's a goddamn printer."

arizonasarah at 9:53 a.m.

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