Okay…so yesterday morning there was a little bitty server meltdown at work. Not even a meltdown, really, just a bit of a glitch, and not even that unusual a glitch. Still, it needed to be dealt with and in a timely manner, meaning that I had to go over to the shelter and deal with it.
In the past, I have been “spoken to” about wasting mileage (at a whopping .33/mile) by making unnecessary duplicate trips (or, come to think of it, making ANY trip when somebody else is already going somwhere). I therefore offered to the secretaries that, as long as I was already going there, I would drop off and pick up the mail. The shelter does not receive mail; everything comes and goes through the main office. They have a basket into which all outgoing items are thrown in the course of the day. Once each day, in the morning, the outgoing mail is picked up and the mail from the previous day is dropped off.
So, I packed up all the crap they had to take over there (donations, old cell phones, etc.) and headed over. I got everything straightened out and wrapped up in just a few minutes and then headed out to make a few other stops before returning to the office.
When I got back, there was a voicemail message from the shelter’s director:
“Hey, Sarah, it’s so and so. Um, Sarah, in the future, we really are going to need some advance notice before you come out to the shelter so early in the morning. The mail wasn’t ready and somebody is going to have to come back out and get it. Also, I need you to look at my computer because I don’t like how it looks and I want it changed but I can’t figure out how. So next time, could you please let us know ahead of time when you’ll be here? Thanks.”
My imaginary response:
“Sure. I can always give you advance notice as long as your server gives me advance notice that it’s going to misbehave and need to be dealt with. Please inform the server that from now on I am going to need at least 24 hours notice before coming out to put it back on track. I would also like to apologize for not knowing there was an official time when the mail is ready, nor that there was an official state of readiness for the bin. In addition, I would be happy to reorganize my entire schedule so that you don’t ever have to look at a desktop picture that in any way displeases you. I don’t do anything all day but wait for people to call me and ask me to come fix things for them anyway. I have no work responsibilities of my own whatsoever. (Insert grossly inappropriate expletive here).”
Author’s note: I think I may be entering a particularly hormonal phase of the whole pregnancy thing. I’m now at 14 weeks and almost perpetually grumpy. Also, Owen says that I am more sensitive and more easily offended. And I cry all the freaking time. Saturday I cried at the mall. Yeesh...
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