serinde

Status, ditto. At this rate I fear I won't be cleared for any of my weekend engagements.

I had a lovely evening in the garden last night, which turned into a too-late tonight with too-much gin & tonic on an insufficiently full stomach, and I am feeling less than stellar for non-COVID reasons. Work drama increases perforce and there is never a moment without someone running very loud lawn equipment in the neighborhood.

S. has replaced fever with the runs (I assume from the antibiotics).

[In which I am describing to elibalin the cleaning out of my former henchperson's office, which office I have snarfed because it's one of the best on campus.]

serinde: I found a few items of interest.
serinde: E.g., a cute little palm-sized screwdriver widget. I will loftily ignore the fact that it's from Goldman Sachs.
elibalin: A Goldman Sachs-branded device for screwing. Indeed.

I haven't really posted about work since starting the new job a year ago. (Then again, I haven't posted much about anything, so it's not that I've been deliberately exclusionary.) But it is needful to set up some background before getting to the actual meat of this post.

( Lo: Background. )

( Primal conflict: man vs. self. )

( What do you do when you don't know what to do? )

( Takeaway: )

In general, I am happy in my work (and I have a longer post I need to make on that head), but every now and again I get a reminder that perfect serenity is not granted to us this side of the grave. Vide, a cow-orker voicemail I received today:

"Hi, this is XXX, just to let you know, um, $BOSS stopped by and I just, and so everything's on your thing, I got pulled into this by a sideways motion, who knows. But in any case, I set you any information that I was given, and any policies that are already in place, and, um, that's what she told me to do. OK, talk to you later, bye."

If you are laboring under the delusion that I had any degree of prior context for this, you do not know IT departments.

So, a few developments for those who are not living in my brain.

1) I have a new job. My last day at Hunter was Friday, and I'm starting at Barnard on May 10th, where I will be Director of User Services (shut up). This is a big promotion-like thing, and I have moments of shrieking panic, but in my more rational moments I feel tolerably sure I can handle it. I also had the smart of giving myself some time between jobs, which I didn't really have last time 'round; I intended to spend it frolicking around in spring weather, except...

2) So that thing where I hurt my ankle at aikido and then some more in a mosh pit? It was feeling mostly better, so I kept going to class, and I kept going to yoga, and then it started to hurt somewhat when I walked, and then started hurting a lot when I walked, and I did the HMO referrals dance, and the referring ortho couldn't see me til July, and I went back and bibbled at Callen-Lorde's referral dept., and they sent me to the NYU walk-in clinic on Friday who tell me I have a chronic sprain because I haven't just let the stupid thing heal. So I have an air cast and crutches, and I'm supposed to keep off it as much as possible, and wear the (extremely ill-fitting) air cast when walking, and etc. I am coping with this with my usual grace and serenity: which is to say, hanging on by the skin of my teeth and being a whiny little bitch. I seem to have an enforced staycation, except the part where I still seem to be running around a lot. But I'm taking the bus whenever I can, and that's something, yes? In spite of the fact that some of the M66 drivers are rotten fucking people, to the point where one actually closed the doors in my face as I was about to put my foot on the step. (Some of the others are really nice, though, so I guess this evens out.)

3) I still have not hung my curtains. I faithfully swear that I shall call the landlady tomorrow and ask if we have a ladder. I have to change a light bulb anyways. Watch, I'll get them finally up and then hate how they look.

4) As far as I'm aware, we're all still supposed to put our plastic/glass recycling in clear plastic trash bags. So why do none of the stores around me sell 'em?

5) I'm having mental hysterics off-and-on that the progress I'd been making on the weight loss front will now be utterly destroyed by enforced inactivity. Because what can you do without a leg to stand on?

6) I went and asked a boy out, for a number of reasons, not least of which was to confirm that I was capable of doing so. I was ready for "yes", I was ready for "no"; I was not prepared for utter silence. The entire situation has led to numerous reflexions, including that my dating brain appears to be stuck at age 16.

7) I have Rock Band again, which makes me happy, except I really want to drum, but it's my right foot I hit the kick drum with, and that will just not do; and I prefer bass over guitar, but you can't have a solo career as a bassist (tell that to Lemmy, jerkweeds).

8) In spite of all of these bees, I'm doing pretty okay.

3/30: Professor Foo forwards a phishing attempt of the usual vintage (OMG UR OVER QUOTA, click here to fix) to the college mailing list, saying "Phish warning!" in the Subject, and removing the trawling link, but otherwise unedited

4/7: Professor Bar responds to the college mailing list, asking "Thank you but I do not see a link or password in order to do what you request. Is this still necessary?"

4/7: Professor Foo responds to the college mailing list, saying "I hesitate even to reply to an email, for fear that's a phish. Hopefully Dr. Bar is a real member of this list."

We have some several small-form-factor PCs which we were testing for use in the student terminal 2.0 roll-out. One such is a Dell Optiplex 760, which was way too big for the job at hand; and since trying to run Windows in a VM on my desktop iMac eats all my computrons, on spride's advice I snarfed it to stick under my desk and remote into when I have the need to be plunged into the warm gelatinous mass of Redmond.

While I'm at it, why not see if it will PXE boot and talk to our management console? So I hook it up at our testing bench and turn it on.

1. No BIOS, it just
2. goes directly to a crippled XP configuration screen
3. THAT PLAYS REPETITIVE HORRIBLE MUSIC REALLY REALLY LOUD THAT YOU CANNOT TURN OFF UNTIL YOU GO THROUGH IT ALL

Ensued then a Three Stooges-like routine involving me frantically searching it for a volume control (there isn't one), or an "off" tickybox on the screen (there isn't one), or a physical control on the machine itself (there isn't one), or failing that A PILLOW TO STICK IT UNDER (none of those either) so as not to disturb the fifteen other people in earshot.

Eventually it booted to XP proper, and hopefully this will not recur on the next reboot; but I have procured a heavy coat to throw over it just in case.

As a result of the Plan to Take Over the World, I must needs get access to the university-wide ERP implementation thingie; and not only the account that, eventually, everyone shall have, but I must also get access to the "CRM", which is "Customer Relationship Management", module, which is The Thing What Lets You Submit Trouble Tickets.

So. I activate my account. (The web site is, unsurprisingly, steaming piles of shit, but at least it's better than the new Payroll application.) I go to acquire the form. Behold, this form: it is a PDF, but one that you cannot fill in the fields of. You must print it out, and fill it out, and then send it unto the Mothership.

AT WHICH POINT THEY SCAN THE FORM BACK IN.

OK, well, that is par for the course; so I print it out and start filling it out. And I stupidly start writing in my home phone instead of work, scratch it out, and then realize they only left about an inch of blank for phone number (tons of space if you're typing your PDF! but less so for handwriting), so I cannot fill it in.

So here I am with the jar of Liquid Paper I stole from downstairs, to get access to our shiny new system that's going to be all about electronic signatures.

[Your humble correspondent returns from a meeting to see the baleful red eye of the voicemail glaring at her from her desk phone. She curses, and plays the message.]
Random Git's Message: Hi, this is Foo Bar. Can someone there please call me back. X12345 *click*
Your Humble Correspondent: Because what we love is some context in our messages. *dials number*
YHC: Hi, this is {me}, I received your message asking for a call?
RG: Yes!
YHC: ...so...what can I do for you? [1]
RG: Oh! I didn't...but...Maybe I have the wrong person.
YHC: ...............
RG: Are you in charge of the help desk?
YHC: I am in charge of the student help desk, yes.
RG: But for CUNYfirst? [2]
YHC: No, that's being handled by the Faculty/Staff help desk.
RG: So you're the wrong person?
YHC: . o O ( FOR WHAT? ) ....So it would seem.
RG: OK thanks *click*

[1] At this point I am assuming that it's some HR nonsense, as I happened to recognize the person's name as someone who works up there, not that she's actually said anything indicative yet.
[2]This is the big huge university-wide ERP implementation that's being slowly rolled out in stages, rather like successive biblical plagues.

So, all last week, I was at an ITIL Foundations course at the Mothership. (Which was initially supposed to be in February, I might add, and they kept shifting the date.) It was moderately stultifying--apparently there had been Special Requests to make the course longer because "it was too hard"--and it will probably come as no surprise to the Gentle Reader that I aced the test to obtain my certification.

Then there is Part II, the Intermediate course, which is specifically on Operational Support & Analysis (i.e., helldesk and friends). This finally ended up being rescheduled for three weeks following, i.e., the week of May 18th. This was a pain in my ass, since my final is that week, but I talked to my really excellent and cool professor and got it rescheduled for the 15th, i.e., the day after our last class.

Therefore, of course, last night, the person at the Mothership who is (mis-)arranging these courses sent mail saying:
I'm trying to fill a class of 12 for next week. Please let me know if you
can definately attend. The May 18 class is not confirmed. It may have to
be rescheduled if I can't get it confirmed by tomorrow.
[sic]

YES OF COURSE SOME FIFTEEN PEOPLE, MANAGERS UP THROUGH DIRECTORS, CAN DROP EVERYTHING ON A WEEK'S NOTICE. What in the hell? It can take two weeks' notice to get an hour of time on $OVERBOSS's schedule, and a few of the people in this course are at his level. A full week? Forget it.