Banging My Head on My Desk
Let me tell you a little story rife with colorful detail. Seeing as how I have only just survived it, the impressions are still fresh.I am what some might call anal-retentive. I, however, prefer the terms "reliable", "efficient", and "competent". I am a get-it-done kind of girl. A go-getter. I assure you, I am not perfect. I, too, have my personality flaws. Chief among them: I don't suffer fools or incompetentence or rudeness well.
My boss, knowing that I am capable and self-directed, put me in charge of working with this outside-the-company person on a project. Let me assure you that he is at least twice my age, right off the bat.
Seeing as how we are separated by the American Continent, I made the first contact. I introduced myself via email, sent him along some initial documents, and asked him what I needed to do to get him what he required. I was polite. I was professional. I was efficiently businesslike but not unapproachable.
I received no response.
A few days later, I phoned and left an equally polite and helpful message on his voicemail.
I received no response.
Several more days later, I called again. Eureka! A human answered the phone. I inquired if he had received my email. He had. Everything I had sent was fine. I told him if he needed anything else, just to let me know.
Fast forward two weeks to this Monday. I get into the office and in my inbox there is a message from him outlining what more he needs from me...by Tuesday. He sent the email on Sunday night. So, I am a bit irked, but being a get-it-done kind of girl, I am equal to any task no matter how big and how short the notice. I get started right away, pushing everything else to the back burners. That is, until I receive a phone call from my baby sitter requiring me to drop everything and go home to save my child.
I was about 1/3 through the first part of the project. But, I figured, he said Tuesday. He didn't specify a time on Tuesday, so if I spent all the next day on it, I'd be fine.
Later that afternoon, as I was feeding my child, I got a call from the office. He had called and was irked that I had gone home. Irked doesn't quite say it. When he was assured that I would return on Tuesday, he said, "Well, hopefully..." in a way and attitude that casted serious doubt on my character. The guy has never even met me!
And, lest we forget, I'm the one who was being diligent and dutiful trying to help him with this project three weeks ago. He's the one who couldn't be bothered to answer his email or his voicemail.
I tell my co-worker to call him back and let him know that I am working on it and he will get it the next day. This seemed to mollify him somewhat, but he was still skeptical. (Perhaps he was assuming that my work ethic matched his own?)
Tuesday, I jump right back in and finish the project and email it to him before noon.
At the end of the day I get an email from him requesting more information. Ah, usually I'd say no problem, but this request makes it clear that he hasn't bothered to even look at the information I sent earlier in the day. (Jackass!) I politely email him back that, if he looks carefully, he will see that I've already accomodated his request in the previous message.
He doesn't have access to a certain Microsoft software that everyone and their dog has, so I send him a fax so that he can review some text that I had prepared based on his comments to me.
Wednesday, I get a return fax indicating a few minor changes on the previous document. He also sends me an email requesting a few more things and I handle these same-day and get them back to him.
Thursday is spent preparing the documents to be distributed in the meeting. I copy, collate, and even freakin' bind the stuff. It is all ready. The overheads are printed, organized, and encased in a container that assures they won't blow away, get wet or damaged, or otherwise not be pristine for his big moment.
And then, today. He arrives in our humble zip code. I am less-than-impressed with his look which seems to conjure images of the shaggy dog mating with Albert Einstein. He barely seems capable of tying his own shoes from the look of him. It is incredible to me that his ego is so large considering the image he is putting out there, but whatever.
I present him with the fruits of my labors. Labors he has requested, reviewed, and approved. And, what do you know? He manages to find all of these things that I've "done wrong." Strange how he didn't catch those in his review process. Strange. And I'm the incompetent one? At least I tried to do my job. He, it seems, couldn't be bothered. And, when I say "done wrong" let me assure you that it wasn't done wrong so much, but that I hadn't read his mind.
So, I put on my cape, tights, and mask and swoop in to save the day. I finish the redo and am still ready for him to have the meeting.
And then?
And then, 20-minutes to Go Time, my boss calls from the meeting venue (not at the office, but downtown and 20 minutes away). It seems our mad scientist fellow forgot to put all of that stuff I had prepared for him in his briefcase and it is still sitting on the conference room table. Could I bring that downtown on the double?
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Of course. I am the get-it-done girl. But, I tell you, I'd like to take a tennis racket and practice my smash on his tennis ball of a fuzzy head.
Instead, I'm banging my head on my desk knowing that this is what being good and reliable gets you: suffering fools and incompetence.
Asswipe couldn't poor piss out of a boot if the directions were on the heel.
