Frustrations and varia
Apr. 23rd, 2002 02:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mousmeThe stupid moving people still refuse to answer their phone. *grumblemumblegroangripemumblegrumble*
Ann's mother will think I'm a total flake. :P
*sigh*
Work has been a nightmare since Sunday, with one system failure after another. Sunday was amusing, since there were nearly no calls, and we spent most of the time goofing off and sticking silly post-it notes on each other's cubicles. Yesterday was evil, though. Mondays are the worst for phone calls because you get all the irate business people who want everything done yesterday.
Made a slight mistake on Friday which blew up in our faces yesterday on top of everything else. I got a woman on the phone who told me the phone was in the name of "Renée Simard," or so I thought at the time. I answered her questions, gave her a small credit on her account, and sent her on her way.
Over the weekend, as these things are wont to happen, our system billed her for a bunch of backdated features on her account which I wasn't able to see Friday (our system is annoying like that). She called back and got my colleague Irène. Irène, who unlike me wasn't sleeping at the switch, saw that the name on the file was "René Simard." Astute readers will notice the difference in gender.
Irène rightly concluded that the woman was not in fact René, and refused to give her any information. She then got yelled at for her pains. Turns out the woman's husband had been in prison until recently, which was why she'd been calling in his stead.
Anyway, Mme Simard hung up in a snit, and we thought it was over (other than my getting a royal dressing–down from Irène in spite of my apology and attempt at an explanation). Story isn't finished.
Later in the morning my other colleague Cynthia receives an irate phone call from René Simard himself. She quite rightly refuses to give any more credit on the phone, given that I'd already given a partial credit on the features. We're not allowed to go past a certain limit of money without permission from our supervisors. Monsieur Simard gets furious with Cynthia (I was sitting ten feet away and could hear him through her earpiece), and starts threatening to come down and kill her. Literally: "J'm'en viens et j'm'a te tuer!" Charming.
Eventually he hung up on her. Luckily he's from Québec city and has no way of finding us. Still, it wasn't pleasant. Cynthia was way more understanding with me about the whole thing, but Irène took the opportunity to give me yet another dressing–down.
I think it's because Irène is so much older than me (Cynthia is my age) and has six kids (three of them her own and three her current husband's) that she has a gift for the whole dressing–down thing. I was oddly reminded of my own mother when she's angry with me, though her language (both verbal and physical) tends to be very different.
Needless to say, I felt terrible, but less so when I saw that the person actually threatened with physical violence didn't hold it against me.
BB's D&D game is still going super well. Last game is tomorrow, right before the last game of Incarnate. Suddenly my weekday evenings are going to be really, really free. Have sneaking suspicion that I'm going to have to spend them working full–time on the PBeM. ;) Or my Deadlands game. Have told Bunny and Firewillow to pick a date and I'll have everything ready by then. I always work better when I have a deadline. Helps me organise myself better.
*looks sullenly at phone that refuses to ring* Have set it so that when line is no longer busy it'll let me know, but so far no luck. Or rather, it rang once but immediately became busy again. *grr*
Am going with Firewillow to witness tattoo being refreshed. Am enthused at the prospect. At least this way I'll have a better idea of what tattoos entail.
Father leaving soon for the Hague where he's giving a conference. Then he's off to Moscow, and from there he'll join my mother in Paris. She's leaving the 15th, and I'll have the apartment to myself for two whole weeks. *does the Partial Freedom Happy Dance*
Am still apartment hunting, but it's not looking promising. There's just nothing I can afford right now without sharing, and I'm not thrilled at that prospect. There's just no one I know who's available with whom I'd *want* to share an apartment, and those with whom I'd consider sharing aren't available. Curses.
Ann's mother will think I'm a total flake. :P
*sigh*
Work has been a nightmare since Sunday, with one system failure after another. Sunday was amusing, since there were nearly no calls, and we spent most of the time goofing off and sticking silly post-it notes on each other's cubicles. Yesterday was evil, though. Mondays are the worst for phone calls because you get all the irate business people who want everything done yesterday.
Made a slight mistake on Friday which blew up in our faces yesterday on top of everything else. I got a woman on the phone who told me the phone was in the name of "Renée Simard," or so I thought at the time. I answered her questions, gave her a small credit on her account, and sent her on her way.
Over the weekend, as these things are wont to happen, our system billed her for a bunch of backdated features on her account which I wasn't able to see Friday (our system is annoying like that). She called back and got my colleague Irène. Irène, who unlike me wasn't sleeping at the switch, saw that the name on the file was "René Simard." Astute readers will notice the difference in gender.
Irène rightly concluded that the woman was not in fact René, and refused to give her any information. She then got yelled at for her pains. Turns out the woman's husband had been in prison until recently, which was why she'd been calling in his stead.
Anyway, Mme Simard hung up in a snit, and we thought it was over (other than my getting a royal dressing–down from Irène in spite of my apology and attempt at an explanation). Story isn't finished.
Later in the morning my other colleague Cynthia receives an irate phone call from René Simard himself. She quite rightly refuses to give any more credit on the phone, given that I'd already given a partial credit on the features. We're not allowed to go past a certain limit of money without permission from our supervisors. Monsieur Simard gets furious with Cynthia (I was sitting ten feet away and could hear him through her earpiece), and starts threatening to come down and kill her. Literally: "J'm'en viens et j'm'a te tuer!" Charming.
Eventually he hung up on her. Luckily he's from Québec city and has no way of finding us. Still, it wasn't pleasant. Cynthia was way more understanding with me about the whole thing, but Irène took the opportunity to give me yet another dressing–down.
I think it's because Irène is so much older than me (Cynthia is my age) and has six kids (three of them her own and three her current husband's) that she has a gift for the whole dressing–down thing. I was oddly reminded of my own mother when she's angry with me, though her language (both verbal and physical) tends to be very different.
Needless to say, I felt terrible, but less so when I saw that the person actually threatened with physical violence didn't hold it against me.
BB's D&D game is still going super well. Last game is tomorrow, right before the last game of Incarnate. Suddenly my weekday evenings are going to be really, really free. Have sneaking suspicion that I'm going to have to spend them working full–time on the PBeM. ;) Or my Deadlands game. Have told Bunny and Firewillow to pick a date and I'll have everything ready by then. I always work better when I have a deadline. Helps me organise myself better.
*looks sullenly at phone that refuses to ring* Have set it so that when line is no longer busy it'll let me know, but so far no luck. Or rather, it rang once but immediately became busy again. *grr*
Am going with Firewillow to witness tattoo being refreshed. Am enthused at the prospect. At least this way I'll have a better idea of what tattoos entail.
Father leaving soon for the Hague where he's giving a conference. Then he's off to Moscow, and from there he'll join my mother in Paris. She's leaving the 15th, and I'll have the apartment to myself for two whole weeks. *does the Partial Freedom Happy Dance*
Am still apartment hunting, but it's not looking promising. There's just nothing I can afford right now without sharing, and I'm not thrilled at that prospect. There's just no one I know who's available with whom I'd *want* to share an apartment, and those with whom I'd consider sharing aren't available. Curses.
