It is a universally accepted concept
that the minute one part of your life starts going okay
another part falls spectacularly to pieces

Bridget Jones, Bridget Jones’ Diary

November 30th, 2002.Saturday.

Tomorrow, horrifically, is December. 4 more weekends for shopping and too much to do. How is it that even though people say that time flies, it seems to rush and wane with almost complete impunity. There are times when certain months last forever, a feeling that throughout August and September was most prevalent, and then times like today when you are hit with the sudden realization that like so many hair clips and lighters that you have lost several weeks or more. Of course, days like today when I am at work at 6am in order to reboot a Novell server that for some reason seems not to want to allow a specific handful of users to log in unless they are willing to reboot their computers several times first. At a loss of what else to do, I am once again driving in the dark and the snow to do something that really shouldn’t need my personal presence to do. But what are you going to do? This coming week is going to be a monumental test of my relationship with certain of my panicky co-workers as I have somehow managed to become the Project Manager for the rebuilding and construction of the “new” computer room. This sounds deceptively simple, however since the existing room will have to be cordoned off and the construction will happen on the other side of a piece of plastic only millimeters thick the chance for major catastrophe is glaringly at hand. Funnily enough, everyone in the department was involved in the upgrade of the Clinical System last weekend, an event that took months of planning and hundreds of person hours but yet somehow the reconstruction of the most sensitive room in the entire hospital, a room that contains ALL the patient data and records, all the financials and all the employee records is left until someone with a shred of common sense takes the initiative and organizes the departmental lemmings into doing something before the big men with crowbars turn up on Tuesday. The worst part of it all is that if something were to happen, lets say that the giant Hepa-filtered vacuum that they hope to clean under the existing floor with springs a leak and detroys the Clinical data guess who will catch hell?


See, the only way for a self-respecting employee to protect himself when getting lumped with the jobs that nobody else wants is to make sure that you work by proxy, that is to say that all decisions, large or small are communicated explicitly with one’s boss and their peers ensuring that any improprietaries were communicated before exploding into massive hardware melting, data scrambling catastrophes. That ensures that those who should have known better than to try and ignore the projects that they find too frightening or too boring to tackle themselves have the opportunity to explain their behaviour to Senior Management if and when the shit hits the fan. That way, the only let down I will experience will be the disappointment of a job well done, a flawlessly executed operation of which the military would be jelous. But I am used to that.

Funny how office politics can take on such significance during the daytime hours, but the moment you step out of the office, it is hard to recall why you ever felt so hostile. Hostile seems harsh, but it is entirely approprite in this context. I seem to spend most of my days talking to people whose sole occupation is either screwing the company for money, complaining about people they work with or watching the clock until days end when “not my job” melts into the background noise of their otherwise spectacularly fulfilling life. Well, it must be, otherwise where are they rushing to?