Work rantin' and ramblin'

Well, G is playing a brand-new game of crazy these days, because now that Operation C-My-A has overtaken Operation Specialest Snowflake Evar, she has to come up with new tactics. (Seriously - documenting EVERYTHING has gotten me more peace and quiet than I ever thought possible. And I know I SHOULD be phoning or in-person-ing G, but that doesn't get recorded and datestamped down to the second the way email does. And it's hard to CC your vacationing manager on a conversation.) She still follows the circular logic that if I touched it, it's my fault (up to and including things she's left on my desk and the programming of one of our databases at the binary level). While I could understand that when it comes to things I've actually DONE, like logged data, printed documents don't miraculously change, and the things that were never done by one of the clients in October will not be miraculously accomplished now through sheer psychic prowess.  It's getting old, and I'm getting tetchy and snappish.  Which means I'm just going to have to go to Manager when she returns and formally ask that Someone Other Than Me help G out (most likely one of the other older ladies who G does not feel the urge to patronize and insult on an ageist basis) and leave me to assist the rest of the unit.


... So, G was out yesterday and I spent the day catching up on old and newer projects. Even after 10 hours of projects that weren't urgent, I still went home feeling like I'd accomplished Jack, Shit, and Bupkiss. The downside of this C-My-A project is that if I delay to ask a question, to make sure I'm doing something 'correctly' (per G and no one else), G changes her mind. I went from having about 15 standard mailers to now needing about 15 overnight priority labels, because G changed her mind. Which means I need to give the already overworked front desk 15 new priority projects without any advanced warning.

It's like herding crack-addled cats when you have neither catnip or laser pointers on your side. HMS Failboat, ahoy!

If I thought I drank a lot at the Other Job Down Farther South, I've hit a new low.