Not so fast

Thought I was just tired from starting a new job till I finally dragged myself to the clinic yesterday.

It's never good when the first thing the doc says is "That looks awful. Oh. That's infected."

So yeah, not firing on all cylinders.

Also thought I set this to publish this morning. Didn't.

Hopefully back at it Monday, after a weekend filled with Bake Off and many naps.

Merry Christmas

Hope you all have a wonderful Christmas!

I need a nap

Had a doozy of a post for today, but it must wait, cause I don't have time to write it.

I am in desperate need of a nap, and have blocked off Sunday afternoon for that purpose. Fingers crossed.

Work's been good, just crazy busy. It's going well enough.

There probably won't be a post Monday (but who knows, not me) but by next Friday, we should be back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Merry Christmas!

P.S. A note about comments- Friends, I have discovered that I respond to comments about like I do to texts. Immediately, or never. But please know that I see them, and really appreciate each and every reader and commenter.

Thoughts

I am the only HR person at my job, so there is no one to ask about site specific things, like where do we keep the eval forms.

Some of the thoughts that have gone through my head this week include:

Am I supposed to be at this meeting? That one guy talked like I was, but no one told me about it. Should I have just shown up? That would be weird. Was I supposed to be there or not.

Wait, what did he say his name was?

Oh, I know this. But does it go to one of the Mikes or one of the Tims?

Company cell phone? No I don't have one. I don't even have the wifi password.

I put the wrong meeting room on that flyer. It's going to be a disaster. How much trouble will I be in?

Stay strong. Resist the candy bucket.

Do not cry at work, do not cry at work, do not cry at work.

Of all the songs that could get stuck in my head, why did my brain settle on The Lonely Goatherd as the best option?

Why did you say that?

I want to die.

What are they doing out there?

The what broke?

Oh, it's you again. Joy.

No, I don't want breakfast. Yes, I'm sure.

Go away.

Go away.

Go away.

Oh, I know that!

Not gone. Just busy

They've kept me busy at work. The past two weeks, they've had different people in to train me.

I was up before 6 this morning cause I have to do payroll today.

I might fall asleep at my desk.

I want a nap.

Haven't chased me away yet

Dear heavens.

Right now, I'm listening to a video about bloodborne pathogens. Yay. There's a ton of safety videos that I have to watch and take a quiz. Not a fan.

My predecessor left suddenly, and she did not throw anything away. My favorite thing I've found is an email from when corporate moved offices. The person said the new address was in her signature. My predecessor printed it out, like she wasn't going to get any more emails for them. Then, she stuck this paper on the folder for workers comp claims.

The confined space video is a real snoozefest. I'm not sure how many of these I can get through.

We also found my predecessor's computer files. Finally. I don't know how much help pictures of fairies or sexy anti aging secrets will be for me, but one never knows. Although, I've been informed I look about 17, and I don't think I'm looking to you younger.

About my bald spot

Ok, so I'm being a little dramatic calling to a bald spot, but there is a spot about the diameter of a drinking straw that my hair is to my scalp.

So for the new job, they wanted me to get drug tested. No problem. They wanted a hair sample. Even better, cause I hate needles.

I filled out the form online, and it told me where to go to get the sample collected. I filled out the form on a Saturday, and I had three days to get it done, starting from the Monday on Thanksgiving week.

On the list was a clinic in my hometown, about fifteen minutes from my house. Great, I could go on my way home from work, easy. I get there, hand the woman my order paper, and she goes to get someone. He tells me they don't do the hair collection there. But, he says they do it in the town where the paper is located. Fine.

Tuesday, I go after work to the clinic. It's about five instead from work. The lady has me fill out paperwork. Cool. I hand it to her, and she glances at the order sheet. They don't do hair collection either, and she isn't sure why the guy at the first clinic said they did.

At this point, I am both panicked and angry. I have one more day to do this, and it's the week of Thanksgiving.

I call corporate for the new job, and leave what I'm sure is a very panicked voicemail for my contact, who I had never spoken to before.

I then found a number for the company that actually does the drug tests, and who told me I could go to a clinic that did not actually do what the company says they do.

I got in touch with a nice lady after listening to several minutes of circus hold music. I explained to her what was going on, and that I had been to two clinics in two towns in two days, and nothing.

She said they would schedule it for me, and find out where I should go. They emailed me and told me to go to Town #3, about thirty minutes from work, and in the opposite direction of my house, which was fine.

I then called the clinic and asked if they did that kind of screening, and they said yes. I also asked about special hours.

As soon as we were off deadline Wednesday, I was out the door and down the road. I found the clinic no problem, and got back to see the nurse after about 15 minutes.

She was excited my hair was clean, which made me feel really bad for her, but that faded when she came at me with the scissors.

For some reason, I thought they were just going to pluck a couple of hairs. Nope. She got in there.

But it was over, and I got it done, and I passed, so all's well and all that, but I wouldn't want to go through that again.

Oh, and after the first of the year? They're switching back to urine.

New Beginnings

I start my new job tomorrow! I have today off, which I'm super thankful for, because I didn't get home after work Saturday night till after midnight, and I was up first thing in the morning and going all day yesterday. It's nice to have the day off to reset, and prepare for the rest of the week.

About the new job - my last job, as you know if you've been reading my blog, was a copy editor at a newspaper in a small town. The paper was almost an hour from where I live, and the pay and the benefits were... not great. My new job is actually in my town, which is even smaller than the small town the paper was in, and it's A LOT closer to home. (It really should have been in a Small/Medium town newsroom, but that didn't have the same ring to it.) At the new job, I'll be working in the HR department for a local manufacturer. The pay and the benefits are fantastic, and if I play my cards right, I'll be on the way to home ownership by the end of next year, which is not something I expected could happen for me any time soon.

The hours at the new job are going to be a little different, but with the time off my commute, I'll spend about the same amount of time away from home, I'll just be in the car less, which my car and I will both appreciate.

The new job has had quite a bit of turnover recently, for reasons that are not concerning, and I won't go into here. My predecessor, however, has already left, so corporate is, allegedly, sending someone to train me, so that'll be interesting.

All in all, I'm really looking forward to it, and will let y'all know how it goes. Also, I'll tell you about my drug test. For now, I'll just say it was an experience, and I have a bald spot.

She's leaving, bye bye

This week in a Small Town Newsroom was my last.

I got a new job, and tomorrow is my last day. I'm really excited about my new job, and it's going to supply an even bigger cast of characters.

I was running an experiment that Farquad ruined yesterday. I started telling people two weeks ago that I was leaving, after I'd turned in my notice to Boss. We'd talked about it in the newsroom very openly, but I hadn't told Wakeen. I suspected that he hadn't listened, and wanted to see how long it would take him to notice I was gone. Farquad said something about it this morning, and Wakeen was SHOCKED. He couldn't believe I was leaving, and had no idea when. I thought Violet's eyes were going to roll back in her head.

Wakeen keeps falling asleep at his desk. His head drops down to his chest, and then he starts snoring. Like, really loud, and it's happened at least three times this week. Watching Farquad find out was funny.

My last week has been Fergus free. He went out of town for Thanksgiving, and then is taking some time off, which just means he comes in at night when everyone is gone, but doesn't do any work.

I thought I'd be really sad to leave, but if I hadn't already turned in my notice, this week would have driven me to it. Our printer ran out of ink. I had ordered more two weeks ago, and figured it was in Boss's office, like they usually do. Nope. I called our IT dept., it's not there. They didn't read the PO that I sent, and had to get it overnighted. It would have been fine, had they not continually insisted that the fault was on my end when it was NOT. 

Previously on...

This week in a Small Town Newsroom

Something’s in the wind, y’all. Boss has been acting weird for a couple of weeks now. I’m not sure if it’s something in his personal life, or if it’s something going on here. I don’t like not knowing. 

Today is our proofreader’s last day, and I am not ok with it. We didn’t know he was leaving today until yesterday. He’s in his 80’s, so I can understand why, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. 

If Fergus keeps standing behind me and chewing, loudly and with his mouth open, I might have to see about doing ‘this week in prison.’

As I’ve mentioned before, Fergus is a racist. The other day, he starts telling me this story about a girl that used to work here, and described her as a big girl. Then he starts telling me about how she went to a rural area (rural, not remote or unreached) and how the people there thought she was a sideshow act because of her race. It did not help his case that I live somewhat nearby where this supposedly happened. His story did not have a point, just that she was a bigger girl, and people had never (apparently) never seen someone of her race before. Fergus isn’t all bad, and he may have been teasing, but he also said something about a woman who was a victim of domestic assault. I’ll spare you the worst of it, but just because the man is considered to be easy going, does not mean that it was the woman’s fault. 

We got a notice for our calendar that there’s a livestock sale going on soon, which isn’t unusual. However, they had a notice that was worded a little weird. We looked it up, and not only will they have the usuals, like cows, goats, chickens, etc., but they’ll also have zebras, monkeys, water buffalos, lemurs, emus, and several other exotic offerings. I’m trying to convince my dad we need to go. (We live on a farm.) But we’ll see.

I’m wondering what these grandkids did to get listed after the pets in the obituary.

And finally, do we think the baby we had in the birth announcements named Thor will be best friends/worst enemies with the one from last month named Loki? Cause I think yes.

I previously wrote this on the Friday August 31 open thread on Ask a Manager.

Back at it

This week in a Small Town Newsroom

We had the day off yesterday, hallelujah, and are back at it today.

Fergus has taken off to parts unknown for Thanksgiving, and will be out for a few days. *happy dance*

I, apparently, got married. I got an email from a high school columnist that's just started. She's a super sweet girl, but she emailed me and addressed it to Mrs. Knees, despite the fact that I've signed all my emails Bees.

Wakeen, if it's possible, has gotten even sillier. He and his wife separated again, briefly, when she texted him on Tuesday to tell him it's over. They're back together now.

His family came by last Friday, his wife, their son, his wife, and their kid. The kid was asleep the whole time. He introduced them, by name, to every single person individually. We work in a bull pen. But he introduced them about six times. Except for the third or fourth time, when he forgot his daughter-in-law's name.

Fergus had a loud disagreement with his son about whether or not it was appropriate for the son to wear shorts on Thanksgiving. Then the son says he's not coming. Unsure how it turned out.

Fergus, for all his faults, is good at his job. Not so much with the people skills, but he's a good reporter, for the most part. He and Wakeen had a disagreement after Wakeen did something incorrectly, and Fergus had to redo it. Fergus was right, and wasn't snippy about it or anything, just this is how we do it here. Wakeen took great offence, to the point where Farquad told him to knock it off. He kept talking about it. Boss calls him in to his office, and Wakeen goes, for all the office to hear, "Time to get raked over the coals!"

Our system is down, (It doesn't want to be at work today either) and so we can't start building the paper until it comes back up. The IT people are not here. It's going to go so well, I can feel it.

Previously on...

This week in a Small Town Newsroom

I was off on Monday, and completely missed this, but heard about this from several sources. Fergus wants a raise. We all do, but no one has had one in YEARS. About once a quarter, Fergus loses it either to the Boss, or the Great Grand Boss. GGB just keeps walking down the hallway. Boss, however, fires back. They got into it on Monday, when Fergus says he wants a raise, and starts talking about how much overtime he has, and how he works harder than any of us. He made several points which weren’t wrong, but his delivery wasn’t great. Then he insulted our Boss’s appearance, which Boss did not take kindly, and Fergus said some things about how Boss manages, and then stormed out. He stayed outside for a few minutes, then came back in and said he’d been a high performer for quite some time, and if he didn’t get a raise, he would have to look to other avenues. We all know they’re not going to fire him, and he isn’t going anywhere.

I was looking through our supply book and came across the office furniture. I found office chairs that have the heated massage thing, for the low low price of $675 dollars. Each. I mentioned it to Jane and Farquad. Farquad is a little hard of hearing, and thinks that I said $75 dollars. He says that’s great, and I should order them. Get one for everyone. We’ll need ten. He thinks about $1000 is not a bad price for that. I agreed that it wouldn’t be, but seven grand is a little different from one. His eyes about bugged out of his head.

Fergus is, to be frank, incredibly racist. He just described someone else as the most racist person in the county. I could have made many comments. I refrained.

A drunk lady tried to put soda in her gas tank when she ran out of gas. It did not work.

In happy news, I get to do the birth announcements this week. Those are always fun because 1., it gives me a break from the occasional depression of doing the obituaries, and 2., it’s fun to see what people are naming their kids. Sometimes I make fun. Quietly, and mostly to myself. Anyway, I got a call from a new mom the other day, asking about her baby’s announcement. I heard something in the background, and thought it was a dog. It kept going, and kept going, and then I realized it was not a dog. She was pumping, and either didn’t care, or didn’t realize that I would be able to hear it over the phone.

I previously wrote this on the Friday August 24 open thread on Ask a Manager.

Times they are a changing

This week in a Small Town Newsroom

It's that time of year that I start trying out Christmas cookie recipes. The cookie lady lied to me, and the recipe made significantly more than 36, so I took them to work. The boys have never been so well behaved.

Our main file sharing system has been on the fritz. IT has stopped answering calls promptly, so it was down for a while one day. We're all trying to figure out what to do, and talking about it. A good 10 to 15 minutes later, Wakeen pipes up that the system is down. Wow, I had no idea.

A little later, we all had to use task manager to shut the program down. Fergus and Wakeen didn't know how to do that. Fergus has a very basic understanding of the computer, but got started. Wakeen took a while, because he had trouble finding the delete key.

Fergus comes in super early. Like 3 or 4 a.m. early. And then he leaves most days about noon or a little after. It's sometimes hard to tell if he's gone, or just outside on a smoke break. I try to keep a screen saver on his computer to tell how long he's been gone. I went to put it back on the other day. I always drape a tissue over his mouse, cause it's crusted with things. This time, I had to use the keyboard, which I hadn't looked close at before. Oh my. Not only was it crusted with THINGS and most of the keys not only didn't have the letters, but were literally worn down. Much of the germx was used. So much. 

My ongoing irritation with the advertising secretary continues. She left me a note that an obit I charged for was supposed to be free. I disagreed, and told her so. She said that it was, and with her nose up asked if I'd ever read policy and procedure. I received very little training when I started, and wouldn't even know where to find such a thing. What she was telling me would mean that I have been doing it really, really wrong for over a year, but literally no one has bothered to bring it up. Unless I hear differently from Boss, I'm going to keep doing it the way I've been doing it.

We have a regional publication scheduled to go out Monday that I do the edit and layout for. I don't have the pages yet, nor do I have any content, and won't have time to work on it today. So that will be fun.

Violet almost killed Wakeen the other day. For some reason, he brought up cancer, and was naming people who had died from that particular kind. Violet's husband passed away from cancer a few years ago. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her face change, and she turned and told Wakeen. He didn't know, and apologized, then did not speak again for a while.

I had to have an uncomfortable talk with Boss today. It went well, but I was not looking forward to it. 

Previously on...

This week in a Small Town Newsroom

I got called up to the reception area to speak to someone. It doesn’t happen often that I go and talk to people, 97% of my work is at my desk, and on the phone. Usually when someone’s here, I have to talk to them about an obituary that they’ve brought it. It is never fun. This time, I get up there and there’s a little old lady waiting. She came in to tell me thank you for running her reunion notice in the paper, and that she’d appreciated all my help getting it in.

Farquad had to go to the hospital last Saturday, he was throwing up blood. (If I’ve learned anything from movies, it’s that we’ve probably all got tuberculosis now.) He was complaining on Monday, when he was back to work, that his friends on facebook didn’t agree with what the doctor was saying. Cause that’s where I get my medical advice. He’s talking about all this while holding a monster energy drink. I didn’t, but wanted to tell him I’d diagnose him for free. He drinks too much coffee, dips, doesn’t take care of himself, and his gut has turned caustic and is eating him from the inside out.

Fergus and Jane have been, well, not fighting, but they had a fight several months ago and were not speaking. After she took the job to become my counterpart, he had to work with her more. (The fight was his fault.) He’s been very friendly lately, to the confusion of us all. Yesterday, he told her that it’s a pain in the butt to have her mad at him.

A guy called the other day and yelled at me, because we published an article about him ‘a couple of years ago.’ He was mad, and said that he wasn’t ‘on the drugs’ but we’d said that he was. He did not stop to draw breath for at least two minutes, while he told me all about how we’d ruined his life. People wanted to hurt him (?) because of what we’d published, and he couldn’t get a job, and he didn’t go to jail. He finally paused for breath, and then mentioned the magic word (lawyer) and I transferred him to my editor. He was arrested in 2014. I don’t think we’re the reason for his problems. 

And finally, a pet peeve. If you are picking out an obit photo, DO NOT. DO. NOT. Use one that has been rattling around in the junk drawer for the last thirty years. Make sure the photo, if it’s a physical one, is clean. It’s ok if it’s a little discolored, or old. That’s fixable. Don’t use a low quality one if you can help it. If the photo is a frame, TAKE IT OUT OF THE FRAME, and THEN take a photo of it. Make sure your reflection isn’t visible. Y’all would not believe some of the things that people send in.

I previously wrote this on the Friday August 17 open thread on Ask a Manager.

Got my bossy britches on

This week in a Small Town Newsroom

Wakeen fell asleep at his desk the other afternoon. It was pretty slow, and we were just sitting around talking when Violet and I heard this noise coming from his desk. We both turned and looked, and he had his chin to his chest, sawing logs. He did wake up after a few minutes, but dear heavens.

Sadly, I don't have an update for this. Most of my phone conversations are very short. I had one the other day that was 10 minutes long. He talked the entire time. I finally get him my email address, a feat unto itself, and he asks my name again. I have a very girl's popular name. It is easy to spell. He pronounced it when he repeated it back to me without one syllable, which I don't love, but is how a lot of older people say it. I don't love it, but ok. He then tells me it's unusual for a lady to have that name, and he doesn't know anyone with that name. I am unsure what he heard that sounds like my name, and very much is not.

Everyone at the office is sick. As soon as someone leaves for the day, I descend with the Lysol. A lady in advertising saw me carrying it, and told me her husband had the flu. I did not give in to my first instinct of spraying her with the Lysol.

Farquad isn't here today, he was fine yesterday morning, and then yesterday afternoon, started coughing. It's horrible when he coughs, because it literally sounds like he's hacking up a lung. I was expecting him to vomit any second. It was disgusting.

Yesterday, Boss was out, so I was in charge of putting together the front. It was stressful, but I was doing ok until about ten minutes before deadline. That's when we found out advertising hadn't put in the right pages, and we had to change all the ads. That wasn't fun.

Some of the boys, though, have no idea how close they came to death. Farquad wants to be in charge, but isn't willing to do any of the work. Fergus came and stood right behind me, while chewing his yogurt. I cannot stand to hear people chew, and he was right behind me. He was also talking to Violet about robots for... ahem, adult entertainment. I almost turned around, killed him, and went right back to work.

Wakeen, however, was the worst. I was asking him where the pictures I needed were. He says he doesn't know how to get there from his desktop. I told him to click on the file icon. Nope. I said the file button, which was a mistake, because he started looking at his keyboard. I finally gave up and went and glowered over his shoulder until he found it. He was then shocked that I didn't have enough room for more than one photo.

I didn't mean to almost hit him

Hello, friends!

While I'm recovering from the coverage of election night (regardless of who's winning, an 11 p.m.  end, 45 minute drive, and 5:30 a.m. wakeup isn't very fun) I thought I'd tell you about the time I almost hit another reporter with my car.

This winter, we had a fairly snowy season. One day on my way to work, I started down a fairly steep hill. It had snowed a day or two before, but there wasn't much left on the ground. The truck in front of me started weaving a little, and I wondered what he was doing before I also started to slide. I thought for a second my brakes had gone out (again) but then I saw everyone else sliding. I tapped the brake like I was supposed to, but kept sliding. 

As I was careening what I was sure was going to be my slow and painful death, I noticed a reporter for one of the local news stations filming at the bottom of the hill. Right where my car was headed. I figured he'd, you know, move out of the way. But no. 

I got off the ice enough to aim away from him, and headed towards a police car (by accident) instead. I didn't hit that either, thank goodness, and got stopped off in a parking lot where I could take a minute to breathe. I got out and took a couple of pictures, one of which ended up on the front page, and was very thankful that I was not one of the people off in a ditch. 

I think I screamed the entire way down the hill, and certainly when I thought I was going to hit him or that cop car. I made it to work ok, just took a minute and put the car in four wheel drive and went on. Later, I checked the news station's website to see if the footage made it to the news. 

It's on twitter. I came really, really close to him, which it did show, but thankfully, my horrified face was not visible.

Previously on...

This week in a Small Town Newsroom

Fergus is the crime reporter, and as such, has… interesting phone conversations. We all try and drown him out, because there’s only so much you can hear about the stripper map before you want to hurt someone. But try as we might to ignore him, some things just slip through. This week, one of the phrases was, “Unless that attorney puts a muzzle on her.” Lovely. 

Fergus is also not afraid of swearing. He has an outside voice as his inside voice, and normally, he could swear up a blue streak. Yesterday, however, he was talking to someone on the phone about one of the jailers. (Who he described, not by name, but as ‘you know, that BIG girl.) He starts talking about how she has a potty mouth, and how he couldn’t believe what she was saying. Blank blank this and blank that. And the most shocking part of it was that he wasn’t saying the words. I don’t know who he was talking to that he didn’t want to cuss in front of, but we were all shocked that he was so offended. 

As part of my job, I do the layout for those plaques that you see with newspaper stories on them. (Don’t buy one, they’re a waste of money. Just frame the article.) I am supposed to send them to Grandboss’s secretary to be proofed at the same time I send them to Advertising Boss’s secretary to be ordered. GB’s secretary approved it, and AB’s secretary was supposed to order it. This was about two weeks ago. I go on with my life. Wednesday, I get a call that why hasn’t that been ordered yet, haven’t I done it? I said yes, it was submitted two weeks ago to AB’s secretary. Not ten seconds later, she was getting paged over the intercom. She didn’t like the look of it, apparently, and felt that there were changes that needed to be made. She didn’t tell me what changes, but I guess I was just supposed to know.

Grandboss wanted to order one of the plaques about a nascar race. He told me to get started on the layout, and he would get with his secretary about what size. I can’t do the layout unless I know the size. It took me a couple of hours to get a hold of her. She told me to do whatever I wanted.

Yesterday afternoon, Farquad starts in how he doesn’t feel well. I didn’t respond, because I didn’t want to hear about how he hadn’t eaten, or did a ‘really hard’ workout, or whatever. This morning, though, he runs to the bathroom and begins throwing up in the bathroom. Which we can hear. From our desks. Thirty feet away.

Jane asks Fergus a yes or no question. She is trying to get an answer and go back to work. He stands up from his desk and comes over and stands RIGHT behind me. (She and I sit across from each other.) He was in my bubble, which I did not appreciate, smelling like smoke, which I really didn’t appreciate, and taking way too long to come up with an answer. 

I previously wrote this on the Friday August 10 open thread on Ask a Manager.

Previously on...

This week in a Small Town Newsroom

After about two weeks of trying to track down an answer, I finally found out how to order our office supplies. The person who was the Purchaser of Pens and Paper left, so it’s now part of my job, but no one knew how to do it. Thankfully, we now have most of the stuff we were supposed to get. Also, I’m thinking about quitting and going into the office supply business, because $20 for four plastic binders seems like quite a profit margin.

Fergus is insistent that yellow legal pads are the only ones that will work, not white. I really wanted to order white, because I’m mean and petty like that, but did not.

I was out sick yesterday, and forgot that it was Election Day. On Election Day, we have to stay late so when the reporters call in the numbers from the different precincts, we can post them to the website. Boss did not mention anything about it on Wednesday, so I don’t feel too bad that I missed it. 

It’s really hard to talk on the phone when you can’t breathe. I answered the same as I always do, and one of the funeral homes I deal with regularly didn’t believe it was me for a minute. Even though I have a stuffy nose, I’m pretty sure I still sound more or less like myself. 

Farquad was on the phone this morning, talking to someone about our archives. Due to a computer error, they only go back to the early 90’s. The library had the older ones on microfiche. He’s insisting to the person on the phone that if he checks our archives, he can find what he’s looking for from the 60’s. I’m waving my arms to get his attention, and when it looks like I’m trying to land a plane, he finally turns to look. I explained to him that we don’t have them. He then does an about face on the phone, and acts like he’s said to check the library the entire time. 

Fergus finally explained to me his phone call system, and I no longer wonder why a great many people won’t deal with him anymore. He starts by calling every 10 minutes (At around 7:30 a.m., mind you) and does that about three times. Then every five minutes, then every three. Ugh. The more I work with him, the more I’m glad he doesn’t call me.

One of my coworker just told me she feels like she should tell me to go lay down, so I must not be holding up as well as I thought. This afternoon might find me snoozing on the couch in the ladies’ room. That’s right, we have a couch in the bathroom. We’re fancy like that. 

Finally, I leave you with an election night story from Neighboring Small Town where my parents and I live. Mom says they saw all sorts of people they knew when they went to vote, then were reminded to get a corndog for dinner on their way out.

I previously wrote this on the Friday August 3 open thread on Ask a Manager.

Who on earth is Tim?

This week in a Small Town Newsroom

Wakeen was talking about a TV show, and said you have to watch it to know what's going on. What a shocking revelation.

My counterpart, Violet, brought her grandson by to trick or treat on Wednesday. (She also brought candy for us to give him.) It went well. I tried to dye my hair pink. It did not go well.

I may have to smash our fax machine. It broke, IT came to fix it, pulled it apart, and left it in pieces. I made them bring us a replacement. It was running out of ink, and Fergus was getting sixty pages that he already had, but we had to let come through, because there might be something new in there. There wasn't. And every three pages or so, I had to take out the ink cartridge and shake it, and try again. Not fun.

Fergus is bad, but honestly, Wakeen is giving him a run for his money. Fergus talks a lot, but Wakeen just... talks. Doesn't matter if anyone is listening. I got to hear ALL about his wife's dental issues, their car, what he thinks about some articles in the paper (which he read to us) and whatever crosses his mind.

Our jobs have a lot to do with email. Which makes sense. Wakeen was waiting on someone in the school system to call him back. He emailed, then called again a few hours later. Which was hours after that day's deadline. He was SHOCKED that no one had responded to his email right away. I told him I would be surprised if I heard back from someone right away, and he didn't know what to make of that.

This morning, Violet and I were talking about the fax machine, and Wakeen pipes up and says, "Tim, you've done it again with the fax." We do not have a Tim. Violet and I just looked at each other, but he meant Tim Allen. Cause that makes sense.

Show me your listening ears

This week in a Small Town Newsroom

Wakeen reads his emails out loud as he writes them. He also speaks to no one in general, narrating his day. It's not great, overall. He talked several times one morning about how he's getting his wife a gift certificate to a salon for her birthday today. Cause that'll go over well. "Here, honey, for your birthday, change how you look!"

Fergus was one the phone, and described someone as made for childbearing. I about got in trouble for the look I gave Violet, cause I already made her choke on her drink for something earlier.

I had a woman call about an obit. I didn't have it from the funeral home yet and she said while she had me on the phone, she had a question. Her husband passed away, and his name was spelled wrong. She wants it changed for genealogy purposes. Ok, fine. She then tells me he died two years ago. No dice. There's no way for me to change that. I tell her I'm sorry, but there is not a way to do that. I am the one who would know. She says that's fine. She goes to church with the publisher (GGB) and she'll talk to him about it. So now I have that to look forward to. (In her defense, she phrased it like she thought someone else could fix it. They cannot.)

Fergus had a very loud conversation in the very open room about where exactly on one's person one could store illegal substances. (Horrifyingly, many places, if you were wondering.)

Farquad is online dating. It is not going well. He got in a fight with a woman who said he was using old pictures. He has lost a little weight recently, but is by no means a small man. Apparently, he took great offence to her thinking that he wasn't being honest. I think if he'd learn to spot crazy eyes, his dating life would greatly improve.

My high hopes were for naught. Wakeen is not a great reporter or coworker. At the risk of sounding mean, he just isn't that smart. Someone sitting in the back of the room called him, and he walked up to the lady sitting two desks away from him. In the other direction. She told him who asked him to come to their desk. He said ok, then sat back down at his desk. He had to be asked three more times to 'come here' before he finally understood. He also didn't understand that a doctorate in something makes someone a Ph.D.

I found them!

So since high school, and all through college, any time someone said something witty or funny or particularly stupid, I would make myself a note. That's how this blog came to be born. When I started this job, I was taking the notes on paper, and then taking them home, lest someone see. I then promptly lost the papers, but this weekend, I found them. Here are a few of my favorites. Upon looking through them, many are about Fergus.

One Saturday night (which is the best time to listen to the police scanner) two people pulled guns on each other, someone else put scissors in their ear, and they found a dead body. This was after a pig escaped during transport and ran into the road. (It was returned without harm.)

A man called in, and said he didn't want his name or phone number out there. It's never good when people start out a conversation like that. He was a racist, and I wasn't surprised he didn't want people to know.

A call came in over the scanner. A woman had called 911, because her mother believed she was being attacked by her coffee, and also Satan.

Our wonderful proofer, who has since retired, was out for a few days when his wife passed away. On his THIRD day back, Fergus offered to set him up with someone.

Fergus likes to talk to GGB whenever he comes through. GGB usually protests that he has a meeting, but when he doesn't, I like to fantasice about getting in my car and never coming back, because they talk for a long time. On one such occasion, Fergus told GGB all about the affairs people in the community had/were having. Some of them were just his opinions.

Fergus once referred to someone as a "Communist Democrat Yankee." he then had a bad conversation in terrible Spanish about lawyers.

And here's one on me. Sometimes, my mouth runs away with me, and one of these days, it's going to get me in trouble. Farquad was talking about how he doesn't believe in marriage anymore. (He's divorced.) I was busy trying to, you know, actually work, and wasn't interested in hearing how another girl rejected him online. So I told him that marriage isn't a unicorn, it does exist. He looked shocked, and sat down and was quiet, but I couldn't tell if what I said was that shocking, or if he was just surprised that I'd said it.

Previously on...

Guys, it’s been quite a week.

Farquad has taken the last three days off, and it has been blessedly quieter. Not quiet, but quieter.

I took a regional magazine thing into our proofreader. It’s one of those that tells you what sort of arts/ entertainment things are going on around town. The kind you pick up on the way into or out of the grocery store, and then leave in the cart without reading it. Anyway, our proofreader is one of my favorite coworkers. He’s in his 80’s, and I’m pretty sure I woke him up from a light snooze when I took it in. I asked if he’d proof it for me, and he asked what it was. “It’s Teapot Entertainment Bimonthly.” He sighed and goes, “Oh, crap.” He then complained about whether some of the people sending in the articles read them first or not. (It’s unlikely.)

Yesterday, Boss’ Boss’ Boss’ (My great-grandboss) and boss’ boss’ walk past boss’ office. GB just says hi, and continues on up the hall. GGB (An old, short, and kind of hateful man) stops and goes, “Boss, did you miss the meeting?” “No,” says Boss. “Well, you weren’t there.” No, says Boss, he wasn’t there, but he didn’t miss it. “Well, who’d you get permission from,” asks GGB. Boss says from his boss (Who is GGB’s son) Well, GGB is not having it. AT ALL. “In the future, if you are going to miss a meeting, you better ask the person leading the meeting. If you want to keep your job.” This was not said in his office in an attempt to be quiet. This was in the doorway of boss’s office, in front of the newsroom. Now, we all know that nothing’s going to actually happen, because we are basically working with a skeleton crew as is, but what GGB doesn’t realize, is that if he did fire boss, everyone else wouldn’t be able to work either.

Someone came in to interview for the open reporter position. I went up front to make some copies (aka spy and make copies) after they called back to let Boss know that the person was here. They’d already gone into the conference room, but I asked the receptionist about the person. She gives me a physical description, and says that they seemed nice. I asked if she thought they could handle Jane, my new counterpart. She very sweetly answered that she thought they could handle Fergus just fine.

Today, they moved our deadline two hours earlier than normal, because we’re having some sort of charity fundraiser cookout. Fine, cool. I get to see several people, including Boss, get pies to the face. Awesome. While I’m not thrilled about having to get up before six to get here an hour and a half earlier than I normally do. What I have a little more issue with, is that we have to do portions of the Sunday paper on Fridays. So after the party, which isn’t guaranteed to be much, we get to come back inside and work for another four hours while the rest of the building goes home. (Our proofreader asked what all this nonsense in the parking lot is about. He is clearly not impressed.)

Fergus is bugging Jane. He asks all sorts of questions while she’s trying to work, none of which were about work. A few minutes ago, it’s about Spongeshow. I LOVE spongeshow, says Fergus. Do you think sponge is gay? “I do not care if he’s gay,” says Jane who is trying to work. “I think it’s stupid.” Fergus just walks two feet towards his desk, then turns and wants to know what cartoons I watched as a kid.

Boss demands a 9v battery. I go and ask the guy in charge of the press, because he’s most likely to have one. He doesn’t. The front office doesn’t. Boss is freaking out. He needs a 9v, and he needs it now. He’s usually more even keeled than this, but I’m trying to find him one. No one in the building has one. Is there something we could take one out of? The guy who runs the press comes in, brandishing one. He remembered he’d had one under his car seat forever, but he tells Boss he’s not sure if it’s any good. Boss touches it to his tongue, and says it’s good. Then, you can see the expression on his face as he realizes he’s put something in his mouth that’s been on the floor of someone’s car for no one knows how long.

I previously wrote this on the Friday July 27 open thread on Ask a Manager.

Conspiracies abound

This week in a Small Town Newsroom, and thoughts on Boss's Day

I had vacation this week (commence with the happy dance) so I missed most of the goings on, but there's enough that goes on that even just being here last Saturday night and this morning, it's a wild ride.

Wakeen thinks that Princess Di was murdered. Or, assassinated, I guess? We were talking last Friday about the royal wedding, and he just comes slightly out of left field with that observation. Thankfully, Fergus was not here, so I didn't get to hear his thoughts on the subject.

I came in to work with damp hair today, which is relevant. I have fairly thick hair, and even though I washed it last night, it was still damp this morning. In the past, I happened to mention one day that my hair was still wet, and Fergus asked if he could touch it. I told him no, and that that was weird.

I'm now going to work on my photoshop skills and see if I can fix this woman's super skinny eyebrows. Tips appreciated.

Boss's Day was Tuesday. I wasn't at work, and even if I was, I would not have celebrated with my current boss in any way. However, I love Boss's Day. My first job was at my family's hardware store, working for my dad. Tuesday was also his birthday, so I get to celebrate him double for his birthday, and as the best/first boss I had.

Previously on...

This week in a Small Town Newsroom

(Sadly, I do not know how this ended) Yesterday, it came over the scanner that one of the banks had locked someone in the vault by accident, and they needed the police to come and get them out. 

Fergus sent one of our photographers to get some pictures of these two little girls raising money for St. Jude. Well, he wasn’t really specific about what sort of photos he wanted. The next day, we all get called into Boss’s office, who asked what in God’s name is going on, and there is no way we could publish that, and was Fergus some sort of perv. The photographer had taken pictures of the two little girls (Maybe 6 yrs old?) sitting on a bed, holding dollar bills fanned out. With no context, it did not look like a upstanding situation. We chose to run the photo of them “presenting the money to the police” which I called paying off the cops. 

Late Saturday night, the computer systems stalled, and one of the IT guys had to remote in and try and fix it. The system was overloaded, and some things needed to be moved or taken off. He got excited, and started deleting things right and left. Boss somehow compared IT deleting stuff to flinging Napalm in Vietnam. It was a stretch, but he really committed. 

Jane was in a seperate space in our bullpen, and could hear what was going on, but could not see us, and was removed enough to have her own space. She has now changed jobs, and moved to the desk across from me and next to Farquad. I’m taking bets on how long before she goes off on him. He started talking about his dating life again the other day while I was training her on one of our products, and I half thought she was going to smack him. 

Boss is taking this weekend off, so Jane gets to do my job, and I have to do Boss’s. This will involve the creation of our front page. It could go terribly. If all else fails, there will just be a note at the top to the effect of “This is what it would be like without local newspapers” and the rest of the page blank.

I previously wrote this on the July 20 Friday open thread on Ask A Manager.

The Robots are coming

This week in a Small Town Newsroom

Fergus is going on about the singularity again. He doesn't know that's what it's called, and I'm not going to encourage him and point it out, but that's what it is. He starts with how he'll never use one of those virtual assistants (He doesn't even have a cell phone) and then it devolves into him showing someone a video of a robot talking about taking over the world. He has done the same thing three times in the last month. (I am uncertain how the robots are going to get along with the lizard people.) He talked to me for five minutes one day this week about it. He 100% believes that it's going to happen. I have gray hair now.

Wakeen (our new reporter) had a fight with his wife. We got to hear ALL about it. He also got a call from the Bahamas. He assuredly informed me that when you get a call from the Bahamas, it's usually a scam. Usually? I and my friends are not the jet-setting types, so I can't say I've ever gotten a non-scam call from there.

I also found out he is in awe of the color printer. I was printing a proof of something, and it was taking FOREVER because the printer would print a page, then stop. He asked if it was two sided, and I said it was in color. He told me the last place he worked had a printer that could print in black and white AND in color. What a time to be alive.

I had an obit where the man's dog was mentioned. His children were not.

We got a very nasty email from a lady mad at Farquad. She wanted her church news in the paper, which we publish one day a week. He did not communicate this to her, and blew her off several times. Now she's mad, and my problem. I sent her an email apologizing without taking blame (which I'm fairly good at) and we'll see how she responds. (The answer - not well. Also, ad, like advertisement, only has one d.)

I think Fergus is trying to choke me out. He's smoking more than normal, and had a LONG conversation the other day standing behind my chair. I cannot hold my breath that long. I kept coughing, but he did not get the hint. I had to walk next  to his desk this morning to get to the fax machine, and I'm pretty sure there's a fog around his desk. He also messed with my papers yesterday. I suspect it's the nicotine on his fingers, but whenever he touches my papers, there's a stain. It's disgusting. 

Pull Yourself Together

Sigh. I had such high hopes.

Wakeen  had a fight with his wife Monday morning. In the newsroom. In full hearing of everyone. And then we got a rehash of it.

Ooh, he said he didn't talk to her, and hasn't for two days, because he knew she'd get upset. Better not tell her that, dude.

I understand that spouses argue. It happens. Fine, whatever. Sometimes you take calls from your spouse at work. But you tell then you'll talk later if either of you is mad about something, or you  take the call outside.

The fight was about him not making reservations for a hotel because it was booked.

He got a call  a few minutes later from who I'm guessing is one of his children, and he rehashed the fight with them, saying that is wasn't his fault, blah blah.

I want to point out that he's at least in his late 40's, if not his 50's. Not the third grade.

I might have to change his nickname to non sequitur. We were talking about an article, and then he says that his father-in-law is calling, and he doesn't want to talk to him. Ok?

Then, while I was at lunch (which is a whole other post) he comes by and tells me that his wife says it's over. He was very matterafact about it, and almost downright cheerful. He says he isn't worried, because she's said it before.

That seems like an awful heavy statement to just fling around.

Tuesday he says that he's having to stay somewhere else for a while, so I'm not sure if she kicked him out or he left. However, he says he has hope, because she ordered something using their last name(?), which I'm assuming is her legal last name.

Tuesday afternoon, he said he had to go see his father-in-law, and he wasn't looking forward to it, but he'd just have to take it like a man. (As opposed to what, exactly?)

He doesn't have a black eye, so I'm guessing it went ok.

He hasn't said anything about it so far this morning, but the day is young.

Previously on...

This week in a Small Town Newsroom

Farquad was bemoaning the fact that he can’t find an apartments, and actually wondered if there was anywhere stuff like that was posted. I told him if only there was something like a classified section, with listings of places to rent. He did not know that was what was in the classifieds. He was worked in newspapers for the last 20 or so years.

The fax machine ran out of paper, and Fergus decided to refill it. Instead of asking where the paper went, or looking to see if he could figure it out, he simply found the biggest opening he could, and shoved the paper in that. It was not where the paper goes. It was ridiculous. He’s been in this business for over thirty years, and really has no idea how to use it. He did leave a paper jam in the big copier up front, then didn’t tell anyone and walked away. The receptionist said that if he ever did it again, she was going to shame him over the intercom, then murder him and leave his body in the parking lot.

We got a ‘new’ copyeditor this week, when someone else was reassigned. Fergus does not like this person. When he asked whose stuff was at the desk, and I told him, he stood there without speaking for several seconds. I could see the gears in his brain grinding to a halt. 

Another coworker and I were talking about work, when Farquad interrupted that he’d been on OKCupid, (while at work, at his desk) and gotten matched with someone from his high school. Instead of ignoring it, like I feel most people would, he informed us that he messaged her on Facebook to let her know they’d been matched.

I originally wrote this in the July 13 Friday open thread on Ask A Manager

Invasion of the Lizard People

This week in a Small Town Newsroom

So something I've long suspected about Fergus has been confirmed. With his personality type, I was almost certain that he would be a conspiracy theorist. Whoo, boy. Is he ever. He talked for probably about a half an hour today about how some celebrities are secretly lizard people. Lizard people. He made another coworker watch a video on it. He's not sure about some of the others, but he's sure about Beyoncé. There's about a 60/40 chance that he actually believes this. He talks about it like he does.

We did some articles on breast cancer for October. Farquad did a story on a lady who's a breast cancer survivor. He wrote about how she had chemo and radiation. And then a vasectomy. We had to have a talk about how ladies don't have those.

You hear the most interesting things on the scanner on Saturday nights. A woman called in to 911, said her boyfriend/husband/whatever was outside slashing her tires. The dispatcher said she could hear him going on in the background, yelling. Well, about fifteen minutes later, the woman calls back, and says that she doesn't need cops, because he was only pretending to slash her tires. 

Fergus asked our sports reporter how much weight he's lost recently. Sports reporter told him, then Fergus responded that he looked sexy. Sports reporter went back to his office.

I had to take a story over to Great-grand-boss's office for him to proof. I don't really care for him. He  is, frankly, an awful little man. Anyway, I take it to him. He then shooed me out of his office like a dog. I spent the next half hour (while we were on deadline) sitting in his secretary's office, listening to him talk on the phone to someone about how employees today have no loyalty. Also, how to pay them less. His secretary had been in his office a couple of times, so I knew he was working on it. He doesn't know my name, despite the fact that I've been working here more than a year. (My name is not uncommon or hard to pronounce.) So he didn't have a way to call me into his office, and I did not get up. He had to get up out of his chair and come around the corner so it didn't sound as bad when he said 'here you go.'

Farquad is still busy with his big man on campus routine. It was old after five minutes.

This must stop

So since Wakeen has started working here, Farquad has been all puffed up. I think if I poked him with a pin, he'd go flying around the room while all the hot air leaked out.

He's always of the opinion that he's hot stuff, and since Wakeen is here, he's been big man on campus. Talking about how we do it here, and he's done this forever so he knows, and make sure to let him proof a story before it goes out.

Well, that would be fine if Farquad was a half decent writer. He gets some basic grammar wrong consistently, and after insisting that something was ready to go, I read over it on the page. It's good I did. The name of our state was spelled wrong. In the first line of the story.

I'm going to have to help Wakeen along a little soon, because some of the things that Farquad has ben training him how to do are not how we actually do them, and it's making my job a little harder.

(A note- Farquad, while he has no real managerial power, is technically like a half step above the reporters. I am not a reporter. Technically, he's been at this longer, though we've both been at the company the same amount of time, and I in no way report to him.)

Farquad's calmed down a little, but last week I got to hear all about his time in college (again), his time in the service (again), and how he was in a band (you guessed it, again). He also thinks he's funny, and was cracking jokes left and right, then laughing hysterically when he was done.

I cannot take much more of this.

Previously on...

Late July in a Smalltown Newsroom-

It came over the police scanner that an elderly lady was in the street in her wheelchair, trying to direct traffic.

One of my coworkers was fighting on the phone with her husband, telling him he better be out of the house by the time she got home, or he could pick up his stuff in the yard. The next day, they were all the phone being lovey-dovey.

I had a lady call about the cost of an obituary, and come to find out she wanted to put one in for her dog. (I couldn’t help her, but I directed her to advertising.)

I was threatened with a lawsuit by two separate people because they didn’t like an article we published.

It also came over the police scanner that while a criminal was running away, he got caught in barbed wire. The then decided to shoot his way out, (You can see where this is going, right?) and shot himself in the leg.

I originally wrote this in the July 6 Friday open thread on Ask A Manager

A Wild Saturday Night

Right now, I'm listening to one of the archivers complain about how she's upset she didn't get to graduate with honors. From high school. Which was a while ago. The last Saturday I worked, I got to hear all about her *ahem* romantic history. At length.

She's not telling me this, mind you, but the other archiver. I think because they're back in the corner, she forgets I'm out here. And can hear everything she's saying.

Every other Saturday, I have the night shift. I work from about five to about midnight, working on the Sunday morning paper. I don't love it, but I like it much better since we got a second copy editor again, because I worked six days a week on a weird schedule for a couple of months. They don't pay me enough for that.

We work with a skeleton crew on Saturday nights, so there's Boss, me, and the two archivists. There's usually someone from sports also, but he finished up and was able to head home a couple of hours ago.

Here's hoping I get to head for the hills myself sometime soon.


Bee's

Hello!

Hello, Internet Friends!

I've bitten the bullet and started a blog. Well, another. I have one that is me, you know, with my name and stuff, that I may link to if I get enough courage to do so. I won't link from there to here though, because I do not want to get fired. And airing dirty laundry, even if it is anonymous, probably isn't the best for my career.

I really enjoy talking about the literally crazy things some of my coworkers do though, and thought I could do as often as I like in the comfort of my own internet corner.

I'm looking forward to sharing with you!

(Also, It's going to take a lot for me to remember not to sign with my name. Who wants to place bets on how long I can go?)

Bee's