Archive for the ‘work shit’ Category

November 12, 2003

Rob’s last day II

Yesterday, when the time approaches 4pm, the sky suddenly turned gloomy and dark. So dark that I thought there was an eclipse or something. And then all of the sudden, water started to jet down from the heavy sky. It rained cats and dogs. It was so heavy, that I reckoned that one would be stripped naked if exposed long enough under the rain.

At about 4.30pm, Rob came over to my cubicle to bid me farewell. He started by saying “Alright guys… all the best” and he then stretched out his cold skeletal hand for a handshake. Being a gentleman that I am, I replied while shaking his rotten hand “All the best to you too…”, rather insincerely. Deep inside my heart, I wanted this guy to flop bad and eat dirt. But that had to be veiled to preserve my integrity as a civilized person.

He looked particularly jolly at the final few minutes at the office. Everyone else looked happy too. He went around shaking everyone’s hand to say goodbye, like we all are going to miss him. Little did he know that it was quite the opposite. We’re all hoping that he’d get it all over soon and get the fuck out of there already. What a moron.

He finally left after about a good 25 minutes of drama later. And right after he left, I cited a poem out loud to my colleagues – in mandarin. (I know nuts about Mandarin… and has very little talent in poetry).

The air is so fresh [inhale a long deep breath]
The sun is so bright [looking and pointing out at the storm out there]
I feel like a newborn [looking at the office fluorescent light above]

Alright, it didn’t quite sound like a fucking poem. They didn’t rhyme and sounded damn spastic. But it did elevate some morale there… because I could see heads bobbing up from their respective cubes to check out who was citing a stupid poem in the middle of the office. I was greeted with laughters and cheers from them. But I know they weren’t laughing at my absurd poem. They were actually laughing that their nightmare was finally over and a new dawn has come.

At 5.20pm, I walked out from the office building feeling like a new person. On the way out, my friends shook my hand and congratulated me as if I’ve gotten a promotion. It was an unforgettable experience.

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November 7, 2003

don’t mess with me

On Wednesday, a fellow colleague from Australia (let’s call him Sangeeth) emailed me to request for technical assistance for an issue which he couldn’t solve. But his mail didn’t quite sound like he’s requesting something. It was more like, a command. He wanted me to do it for him. There was a heavy presence of arrogance in it, and it sounded very authoritative. Not wanting to create a fuss out of it, I decided to help anyway, partly because I was professionally obliged to do that (ahem).

Because he was too busy inserting his arrogance in his email, he somehow forgot to include the details which I need to be able to help him. Amongst them, photos depicting the problem. I had to send him a reply to request for that. But being somewhat of a dolt, this Sangeeth sent me a mail asking me to provide him an FTP address (File Transfer Protocol) for him to share an oversized video file. Yes, a video file. I was asking for photos, but he wanted to give me a video file. Video file of something static. What the fuck. Following was our actual email communication :

“Michael, do you have an FTP site I can access ? The tech has taken an Mpeg video and sent it to me. It is 3.2MB so I cant email it”

I replied him: “Sangeeth, unfortunately no. Perhaps you can try to share it out from your PC and let us know your domain/computer name… we’ll try to link up from here”

Sangeeth, apparently dissatisfied with the fact that we do not have an FTP site, replied with a one-sentence harsh mail – “We should have an FTP site”.

That was when I snapped. I was fucking pissed. I was trying to help him with his problem, and this guy’s trying to make it like I’m the problem. I decided to send him a retort and this time, with less courtesy:

“Sangeeth, Like I have requested, just snap some pictures. They are of smaller size and should be good enough for us to check it out. I know we should have an FTP. In fact, we should have a lot of other things… like a big car, higher wage and a more comfortable cube as well. But the fact is, we still don’t have them. So why don’t you live with it and go to work?”

My reply aggravated the mental ape and he sent me a nasty flame mail reprimanding me. He criticized me for being too passive and being reluctant in helping him to solve his problems. And he ended his verbose mail with loads of bullshit technical jargons (which I knew more than himself, and was the reason why he was asking for my help)… and still, no photos or useful details.

That was the last straw for me. I decided to give the motherfucker the final blow. I sent him a blunt but succinct email asking him to CUT THE CRAP, PROVIDE THE DETAILS and copied his boss. And I p.s. the mail with a note asking him to improve his command of English to improve his comprehension…

I didn’t give much thought about the testosterone influenced angry reply, and expected it to draw much flak from my superior. But fortunately, Sangeeth’s boss dug my message and personally called my team director to apologize. His boss probably felt the same way I did about Sangeeth – that he is a nincompoop and should probably be hired to do something not so important. Like wiping tables or cleaning toilets. And I never heard from Sangeeth after that round of altercation.

My director later called me up and told me, that Sangeeth almost got fired because of what I wrote in my last email, and I was made to promise to be more diplomatic in my future communications… Bah! Like I care. Served that bastard right I’d say, for being such an ass.

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November 6, 2003

work stress

I was looking for my favorite red permanent marker in my lab this morning. I searched up and down, but couldn’t find it. I was swearing like hell all the way through, and after a good while later, I finally found it.

It was at the white board marker compartment. Fuck. Some idiot must be dumb enough to not realize that it was a PERMANENT marker, and must have used it on the white board. And it didn’t take a lot of effort to find out that I was right about that.

Indeed, that someone used the permanent marker on the white board – as I found out after attempting to erase the board. The strange thing was, there were a lot of white board markers in the white board compartment – not only the guy didn’t use them, but he actually walked a good 15 feet away from the board to my table to get the PERMANENT marker, and used it on the board.

I was determined to find out who it was. The clue lies in the scribblings in permanent marker. It was someone’s phone number with Taiwan country code. Coincidentally, there were a bunch of Taiwanese engineers using the lab the day before. So, it must be one of them Taiwanese dimwits…

That got me flustered enough to come up with a countermeasure, a reminder for the Taiwanese motherfuckers, in Chinese! (of course, this was done with some help from someone with the arcane knowledge of for the Chinese language)… and here they are… (hope the translation’s right)

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August 15, 2003

going off

I have been struggling today – struggling to get all my work done as much as possible before I head for my holidays. That’s right. I won’t be coming to work for the entire next week. Been waiting for this time of the year – vacation !

My struggle was made worst when Dickhead (one of our managers) organized a lunch meeting to talk about our past quarter’s achievements. I could have used the meeting time to clear off my workload and make use of my extra time to blog or something.

The meeting was boring and the lunch was awful. I was expecting a pizza or something like that. But this guy actually ordered white rice with prawns! I mean … we’re attending a meeting here without proper a table, how the fuck in the world are we going to eat those prawns? Imagine, one hand holding the ceramic plate of rice and another holding a spoon. I usually eat prawns with my bare hands and due to his fucking brilliant plan, I had to swallow the whole prawn with its shells. I swear… this would be the final time I’m attending a meeting by Dickhead. At least I know that he has a bad taste for food.

I finished all my stuffs approximately 3.30 pm and managed to reserve enough time for me to clean up my table, prepare my out-of-office reply notes, and call up my colleagues to follow up my stuffs. I’m feeling real good today working my ass off, knowing that I won’t have to see Rob’s fucking face for the next 10 days or so.

I hope he gets into a lot of trouble during my absence. Like screwing up big time and got his ass fired or something. Oh, or maybe got himself in jail – that’ll be cool. When I return, I would be so happy to learn about his departure to hell. And probably get myself a new sexy female boss, I’ll be so goddamn motivated to work!
*cackles like a hyena

I’m leaving earlier today – got a few appointments tonight.

michaelooi  | work shit  | Comments Off
August 14, 2003

evidence from the past

I’m starting to receive the parts I have been waiting for. Defective computer parts returned from customers.

And I found something very wrong about today’s batch. Most of the parts, were badly damaged, mind me… not defective, but badly damaged. Pry marks, cracked surface, food residue, etc etc. I wonder what actually fueled their angst to abuse their own computers like that. If I’m not mistaken, we ship most of our computers to office users… or at least some literate human beings. But by looking at the parts, it seems more like we’re selling our products to some cro-magnons.

I mean, we humans had spent so much money digging up our wild ancestors just to study how they behave in the past & how they looked like. Well, I think that’s a sheer waste of time. We already have all the pointers around us. If they wanted to know how a cro-magnon behaves, just take a look at our abusive customers here. Do some simple investigations, why are they abusing our computers?
Or they could have studied those cases of domestic violence against housewives by alcoholic husbands. Or the way our local rambos debating who to blame in an automobile accident. You’re seeing a modern version of our caveman instincts here.

Want to know how a cro-magnon looked like? Look at my friend Doug. He had the same protruding eye socket and flat forehead. Sometimes, when he cusses at his boss 3K, you can see the beast behind that pair of vengeful eyes. Take out his clothes & replace them with animal hides, and I bet the scientists would be awe-struck to see an uncanny resemblance. They would save millions, and pay Doug a fortune to have him scanned, studied, probed. Or cheaper still, they could have given him free cendols for a lifetime – he would have consented without much persuasion. Friends included. We can have free cendols when hang out with him. Cool heheh.

I have to analyze these caveman leftovers and complete them before the weekend – as I will be vacationing at Hong Kong.

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