Inflatablesheep’s Weblog
Velcro gloves are your friend!Archive for October, 2007
Another day…
So it’s Monday. Again. *sighs*
Did you ever wonder if your life is like a snowglobe? Think about it. Here you have this serene little scene with a comforting blanket of white, crisp snow on the ground. Everyone is happy. The children are playing with the snowman (or snowwoman…), the parents are outside watching their children play and the dog is chasing the scarf of the little boy as he runs around the yard.
And then…
Here comes some asshole who decides it’s a good idea to create a massive 10.5 earthquake and screw your shit up.
But the good news – it all settles back to normal.
It’s a repetative cycle: Calm, chaos, calm, chaos.
Just pray the guy that’s shaking up your snowglobe isn’t masterbating.
Parents in the snowglobe: “No no sweetie! That doesn’t look like snow to me!”
Girl of consentual age in snowglobe: “It doesn’t taste like snow either! It tastes like…”
I’ll leave the rest to your imagination.
Dude. WTF?
So we are in a bit of a pickle here at work. We need the work tank space for more treating oil and it’s currently occupied by our waterborne treating solution. The question was asked of me: Given our current rate of consumption, how long before we will have this tank empty?
Simple. It’s math. I’m good at math.
So I calculate it out. The supervisor asks me to do this for one particular tank – tank 9. So I plug away and do the math and find that after we do this transfer from tank 3, which we need to empty, into tank 9, which the supervisor asked me to calculate for, we will have enough room in another tank, tank G, for the rest of tank 3. Basically, we solve the problem by this afternoon.
I shoot off the e-mail and come to find out this afternoon that the operator didn’t transfer to tank 9, he transferred to the other tank (And not enough solution as well)! So NOW we are transferring to tank 9 which we were supposed to do in the first place. This means we will have solution in tank 3 leftover which was supposed to be emptied. And that means that it will probably take into the weekend to finish off because now ALL the tanks are pretty much full.
Maybe it’s me that missed something…
Incompetence?
So here California is burning down. The company I work for supplies utility poles to major California utilities. Yet we seemingly take our time to get the poles unloaded from the treating apparati and down to where we can inspect them and get them shipped off.
I’d like to think that someone would realize the importance of these things and expedite the process. Yet here we are waiting for them to apply preservative to the tops of the poles. The trucks have been waiting since 6 am.
I guess no one gets it. I’m sure it will be our fault too…
Never mind we seemed to have manipulated the cycle for no apparent reason…
Who cares?
Did you ever wonder what the hell it really matters? I mean seriously…
Michael Dell could die tomorrow and he’s worth billions but would the world really miss him? The answer is no…
You don’t really matter. Neither do I. However, the trick is realizing that and THEN moving on. There are times I feel like I am unappreciated (with the exception of one person – she knows who she is 
) and there are times I feel like I’m on top of the world. Then I think, “What does it really matter?”
I find that it doesn’t really matter. The only thing that matters if doing what you enjoy. Have some fun! It can be hard to find said fun in life but sometimes you have to make it up as you go along.
So try to maps.yahoo.com that bitches! 
History? What good is that?
Well I got a call from one of our CSRs (customer service representatives) yesterday, SM (mmm…S & M). She’s a sweetie! And she’s got huge…tracts of land.
Anyway. She asks me about the weight of an African Swallow. No wait. About pentachlorophenol (penta or PCP) treated lumber. So we go through some of it and I find myself in the office a bit later talking to her about it.
Blah, blah, blah…weight of preservative x gallons we put in…blah, blah, blah. You get the idea.
She comments that she HATES math! GASP! How can you HATE math?
Well there’s any easy answer – she was a history major. WTF can you do with a degree in History? Maybe I’m just too ignorant…
