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I got in trouble for this sentence

The following is an excerpt from an e-mail I sent at work this morning to a project manager, "If anyone whines remind them that this is a pilot and we need to ensure the data we collect is controlled and consistent."

Apparently "whine" was too sarcastic. Someone whined about it.

Yeah. I love my job.

Oringinal post:

Dismal, Dull, and Boring

Blah. I have to write a trouble log for a pilot project here at work. I can't even begin to imagine why there isn't a database for this sort of thing, this is precisely what Lotus Notes was invented for. It used to be called Lotus Support Notes for chrissake. I have a database for this at home. Of course I can't get to it because of the freaking firewall.

"Hi, Michael? Can you jump through these hoops, please? Do you mind if we tie your feet together first?"

Don't care anymore

Ex nihil nihilo fit.

Pardon the stereotypical gothiness of this, but everything sucks. I am, put mildly, unhappy. There are a number of things "wrong":


For some reason LJ is not blocked by the firewall anymore. I still think I will write most of my posts offline and post them when I get home, just so I don't leave a bunch of marks in the proxy log.

Oringinal post:

Off to bed

Off to bed I go since I have to spend tomorrow on Eastern Time. Somebody who happens to live in that time zone better e-mail me in the morning to keep me sane while I sit in an empty office building waiting for complaints from pissy stockbrokers. It's must be close to 30° in here and I can't see myself getting a whole lot of decent sleep. I will need assistance staying awake, and since the firewall won't let me read LiveJournal I demand e-mail!

So my day unsuckified itself

Despite my determination to be miserable today was good. My boss was asking me how things were going and clearly concerned that I may not stay on when my contract is up (which I actually haven't made my mind up about). I've been noticing old habits coming back from a few years ago when I last had a job with regular hours. Damnit all to hell anyway. My counter-culture façade of disdain is crumbling under the realization that I make about as much in a day now as I used to live off for a month when I was 17. That's worth eight hours in a cubicle.

Because I'm a rebel, too.

As my last entry attests I went to sleep last night just thrilled at the prospect of killing another day of my life in this cubicle. I'm torn between letting myself aquiesce and tolerate this for the time being and railing against it for the sake of my sanity. So I am doing both and neither today. In a fit of meaninless rebellion I am wearing jeans on a Tuesday. The horror.


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