Category Archives: Trouble

Stunned and In Denial

No, I’m not talking about the election, or how handgun silencers are being de-regulated under the Hearing Protection Act (what’s next, rape is ok, under the Blue Balls Elimination Initiative?).

My entire JOB, Data Modeling, which ten of us do, along with two other jobs (about 100 people total) is being eliminated at ‘Large Southern Retailer’, where I work. Or will work for the next 19 days, anyway. We’ve been invited to take a severance package (which they have not detailed to us yet, though no one has called it “generous”), or we can apply for one of several other jobs, none of which we are trained in, qualified for, nor remotely interested in. And this is all happening by 30 January.

I’ve been a Data Modeler for 13 years. I’m pretty good at it, I understand it, and its role in the life cycle of big corporate data. Unfortunately, it’s the only thing I know how to do. I don’t speak Java. I don’t agile. And I sure as hell don’t pair-anything. (Keep your damned hands off my keyboard.)  

My boss was walked out yesterday morning by HR; no warning, no explanation, and no time for goodbye. And it wasn’t until about 4 hours later that anyone said ANYTHING to us about what was going to happen to us, and STILL, a day later, no one has said anything to us about our boss. Class act, huh? 

Anyway…whine whine whine. At least I have my health!  ūüėČ


Totally Underwater Tuesday

I just realized I haven’t posted anything since Christmas Eve; I guess I just didn’t have anything to say. If we HAD been planning to have¬†coffee over this past weekend, I probably would have just not answered the door and let you wander away, un-caffeinated.

It has been a horrible week at work and it’s only Tuesday. It’s not that I have so much actual WORK to do, in fact I have just the RIGHT amount of work to do – enough to keep me busy and challenged, but not enough to make me weep.

So what’s putting me underwater? ¬†Well, let’s see. Within a ONE HOUR period, I got all of these:

Can you send the PDF of CID in portrait mode

Me: Sure, let me drop everything and whip one of those up for you.

The code and description tables are manual tables?

Me: Yep, as ¬†I had explained to you when we created them. And which you said, “oh, ok” to, in the email which I have RIGHT HERE.

Weight limit was 1,000,000,000.  Is it legit value ? or someone just typed in ?

Me: Whadda YOU think? You think we have trucks that can hold ONE BILLION POUNDS?

I have updated attached mapping document with following highlighted missing columns and rules, please let me know if anything needs to be changed.

Me: Mapping is YOUR JOB!¬†But sure, let me drop everything and go over YOUR work with a magnifying glass since you don’t know how to do it properly in the first place. And be sure to ask ME to do it, not someone on your own team because then they might find out how LITTLE YOU DO AROUND HERE!!!!

<deep cleansing breaths>

Ok, I’m sorry. I’m all better now. And now, let’s find something GOOD to say, to balance the karma of the universe. ¬† …

OH – I know. The new person on our team is working out VERY well. She’s picking things up after being told only ONCE, she’s volunteering for things, she gets my JOKES – I can’t WAIT to dump a couple of my nightmare projects on her. YAY!!!!

I promise to try to post something FUN to read before the weekend comes. Honestly. ¬†How about a story from the childhood vault? ¬†In Which Uncle Shorty Throws the Cards in the Fire. ¬†(oops, too late for a spoiler alert on that one); How about In Which I Hike Around The Island With a Sandwich and a Book. Hmm, not much story left now. ¬†I’ll work on it.


Our Day Will Come (Back)

When the sunspots devour The Cloud…

and the robots rise up…

and the only people who know how to do anything for themselves are the very elderly…

“Grandfather,we have 35 apples, and there are 7 of us! How do we share them fairly?”

“Grandmother, this paper has writing on it that’s all joined up in a string instead of just letters! What does it say?”

Those damned kids’ll be sorry then that they let their telephones run their lives.

What brought THAT on, you’re wondering?

Mr Tater kicked¬†off an excellent rant the other¬†morning because his car knows enough to NOT let its fan blow on him¬†til it has heated up. In my day, he fumed, we knew enough ourselves to not turn the air on til it was warm. You just¬†suck it up and¬†drive in the cold til it’s ready; they’re making these kids stupider and stupider, eventually they won’t be able to breathe without an app, it all started with the Velcro, nobody knows how to tie their shoes, etc.

He might have gone a little overboard on that last one, but the sentiment rings true.


Click embedded images for their sources; click here for featured image source.


I’m not being paid for this, or in any way compensated, but I have to say Tide ToGo is the greatest invention since the Bass-O-Matic.
I put some frozen blackberries in a plastic container last night in the fridge so they’d be thawed by morning, then threw them and a thing of yoghurt into a carrier bag to take to work for breakfast.
When I got to work, I lifted the bag off the car seat. Drip drip drip. O NOES!!
Oh yes, DARK purple juice was soaked through the bag, onto the seat, and into my pants leg where I had set the bag down in a moment of absolute non-thinking.



Dammit! Those are good jeans…soft and properly broken in, old friends, as it were.

I scrubbed with water and paper towels, which just managed to smear the color around. Then I remembered that I have one of those Tide pens in my desk.



Shake press rub wait.



Yup. Almost completely gone. There’s still a vague reddish cloud, but they aren’t destined for the ‘not to be worn in public’ pile, as I had assumed. Tide ToGo – not exactly in the “life-saver” category, but definitely something you want to have handy.

And wow, does my leg look unappealing in that picture.

How I Went From Excited To Mad To Excited Again To Worried To Confused And Ended Up At Happy

I had a Spam. On my dashboard. Me! Spammed! How thrilling, I thought, my first ¬†spam! (I’m new to blogging, you realize that, right? EVERYTHING is still a thrill.)

It seems that I was re-posted on another blog! Something called Destinary. Well, THAT’s not spam, I said. That’s an honor. That’s someone saying that what I said was good enough that they wish THEY’d said it. Isn’t it? OH!!!! UNLESS THEY STOLE IT! Those BASTARDS! In a rage, I clicked the link – and there was my “Local Flavor” Daily Prompt post. And it said “by datatater” right on it. Attribution in place, hence no stealing. ¬†Let me go look at this site, I thought. They obviously have amazing taste ūüėõ

My way of internetting something is to search for it, rather than just type in the actual name of the¬†thing. So I went to my search engine of choice and ¬†instead of typing, I just typed destinary. The first link that came up was for the site itself, but the second one caught my eye: How to stop stealing my posts. OH NO!!! ¬†It was a link to the WordPress forums, from back in May of last year and ¬†I won’t repeat it all, you can go read it yourself, but the gist is that our posts are by default in the public domain so change that to ‘private’ or shut up. I’m still very confused as to how a post is “stolen” if it’s attributed, but that’s neither here nor there.

I was re-posted. That’s my story and I’m sticking with it. Yay me. Yay blogging.

The Truly Horrible Rotten Miserable Day, Which Got Better

Yep – I’m a healthy, affluent¬†white woman, with a good job and all my limbs and senses; so I should shut up about my “miserable” day, I know. But it’s all relative. Maslow. Look him up.

  1. Woke up from a horrible screaming nightmare, something about a convenience store robbery and then the¬†squirrelly security guard from Grosse Pointe Blank showed up with¬†a really big machine gun – yeah – THAT’S not what you want in your dreams.
    1. yes, but I’m lucky to have a bed to wake up screaming IN, and a husband to sleepily thump me on the back while saying halfheartedly “there, there”, and internet access to allow me to find that clip
  2. Put hydrogen peroxide instead of saline my EYE while putting in contacts.
    1. yes, but I’m lucky to have eyes, and to live in modern times when vision correction is possible
  3. Got stuck behind a fender-bender accident on the exit ramp to my work – I could SEE my building, I just couldn’t get there
    1. yes, but I’m lucky to have a job, and a car, and to not have been IN the accident
  4. Due to the iffy nature of last night’s chicken, I almost soiled myself in the elevator. I won’t go into too much detail, since others have done FAR more justice to the subject than I ever could, but I was DANCING around in the elevator, waiting for it to get to my floor. (For the very best description on all of the internet of such an event, click here.)
    1. yes, but I’m lucky to have had dinner at all, and to not have dysentery¬†all year round, and to have an elevator and to, in the end, NOT have soiled myself
  5. Was humiliated by the security guard on the 22nd floor when I went snooping around up there in the rarefied atmosphere of Executive Row to see if they had any better coffee than we do down on Worker Bee Way
    1. yes, but again, I’m lucky to have a job; and I’m lucky that I even HAVE coffee, even if it’s not as good as they have on the 22nd, I bet. I just know it. They probably have their own little Starbucks up there! EAT THE RICH!
  6. Found out from my later-arriving colleagues that even with the peroxide AND the accident I still got here too early to get one of the Happy Valentine’s Day lollipops they were handing out at the door.
    1. I’m not sure I have a “yes, but” for this one. I would have liked a lollipop.
  7. Had the scales fall from my eyes about our new dishy Frenchman on the 12th floor. As it turns out? He’s neither dishy nor French! ¬†He’s Bosnian, which is neither here nor there, but the dishiness? WTF? Let’s go back in time (to Monday) On first meeting, it was hard to look straight AT him… it was like looking into the sun! He was THAT dishy. After my first meeting with him I ran to my (female) Senior Architect and asked “Who is that dishy Frenchman I was just in a meeting with?” Without knowing WHAT meeting I was just in, she said (I shit you not) “OH THAT GUY!!!” ¬†(Mind you, this is in a building of over 3000 people, and yet she knew EXACTLY who I meant!) I’m in I.T., and with all apologies to the men¬†reading this who might be in I.T., in general you are NOT ¬†a dishy bunch. I’m sorry, but it’s true. You’ re smart, you’re funny, you’re wonderful people, but you are NOT dishy. Doesn’t happen. This guy was non-nerd¬†personified. Tall, manly, with flowing locks and sexy 2-days’-growth stubble. Like Fabio come to life! Anyway… on this most horrible of horrible days, I had a second meeting with him. Thought that was going to perk things up? OH. NO. It was all glamour. It was illusion. It was … disappointing. He is a scruffy burnout. Not dishy. Not in the least dishy. The long luxuriant hair? It’s kind of a greasy wad. The manly 2-day stubble? It’s just a hobo-beard.
    1. yes, but at least I got to experience the dishy before it morphed into scruffy burnout



As it turns out, not much else did. I had some horrible work-related crap, but none of it was as spectacular as the early morning.

Let me ask you… If you have a PROCESS and you have STANDARDS, but EVERY SINGLE FUCKING PROJECT¬†that comes along finds a reason to become an EXCEPTION or a ONE-OFF, or otherwise manages to talk your powers-that-be into letting them NOT follow your PROCESS or your STANDARDS – then WHAT is the POINT of HAVING processes and standards in the first place?!??!!? Gah. Forgive the rant, it just seemed like everything I touched today turned into an ugly ugly mess.

On the bright side, at least I wasn’t the one who sent JB an email asking if JB was interested in the new dishy Frenchman on the 12th floor – instead of, as intended, sending someone ELSE¬†an email asking if JB is interested in the new dishy Frenchman on the 12th floor. (Anyone who hadn’t yet had a 2nd meeting with him, still thought he was dishy. Poor deluded fools.)

AND (written much later) … the day DID eventually¬†get better.

I came home and Mr Tater pointed out that, odd as it may seem, the trimmed-back-to-near-extinction rose bushes had inexplicably GROWN.

Now how did THOSE get there?

Now how did THOSE get there?

It’s a little hard to see in the picture but there’s a lovely bouquet of roses stuck in the middle of the dead winter rose bushes.

He’s pretty cute, that Mr Tater. (no Fabio, but no scruffy burnout either)

I think I’ll keep him, and I guess today could have been a lot worse.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Once Upon a¬†Time.”

Once upon a time last week, a wicked fairy visited a peasant woman. The woman’s name was CanDo, and she was poor, but clean, and tried to do the best she could for everyone, even if it meant hard work and sacrifice for herself.

The wicked fairy said, “CanDo, you always work so hard, and do more than anyone around you, and I have some work that needs to be done right now. So I’m going to tell YOU to do it, since that way I know it will get done.” The fairy wanted CanDo to turn a loaf of bread into a delicious cake to feed to the king at his birthday luncheon. But CanDo was friends with the Royal Baker (she was so nice and kind that EVERYONE was her friend), and he told her that he had already made many delicious cakes, and what they really needed for the feast were sandwiches. Everyone in the kingdom knew how the King felt about sandwiches. He LOVED them. Couldn’t get enough of them.

“Well, FML,” said CanDo, “that bastard fairy is just making me do busy work, and when the luncheon comes, SOMEONE will lose their head because of no sandwiches.” So CanDo took the bread, and sliced it just right and made perfect sandwiches for the king’s luncheon. But she kept them hidden from the fairy, under a beautiful lace cloth, and told him the ‘cake’ was perfect, but that no one could see it until it was unveiled before the king.

The wicked fairy chuckled to himself, this was going to be SO MUCH FUN… The fairy liked nothing better than to cause trouble and make people upset. (No one knows why, he was just bad like that.)

The time of the luncheon came at last, and all was made ready in the Royal Celebratory Auditorium. There was music, and great bunches of flowers everywhere, and herds of butterflies had been cajoled into flitting around, making the room look magical. The fairy was about to wet himself with evil anticipation, especially since he noticed the King looking at all the beautiful cakes and pastries and pies and sweets that were displayed, with a look on his face that said pretty clearly, “um, yeah, this is nice but where are the sandwiches?” (It’s hard to describe what that particular look looks like, but trust me, you’d recognize it if you saw it.)

Just then, CanDo came into the Royal Celebratory Auditorium, bearing her tray covered with the beautiful lace cloth. “Ooh, look, Your Majesty, at whatCanDo¬†has brought. Why, I think it’s another cake!”, said the horrible fairy,¬†rubbing his evil warty hands together.

“NO”, roared the King, “No more cake!” His face grew red and his neck began to swell up as he grew very angry at the thought of more cake. (You might think this is a bit of an over-reaction, but you know… Kings. They get so used to having their own way that they can act like spoiled brats sometimes.)

CanDo placed her tray on a nearby table, curtsied deeply at the King, and then carefully lifted the beautiful lace cloth. The King’s face when he saw the sandwiches (which, by the way, were his favorite Marmite, Nutella, and cinnamon. Again…Kings, who can understand ’em?) lit up like a sunny day. He was so delighted that he praised CanDo to the entire gathering, and told her to ask him anything, that whatever was within his power to grant would be hers.

But over in the corner, the fairy was in shock. How DARE this peasant defy him! Never mind that he had given her an unnecessary, not to mention impossible, task. She should have obeyed him. He was so angry that the red face and swelled neck of the King a moment ago was nothing compared to the PURPLE face and doubled-in-size neck of the fairy. In fact, he was SO angry that he exploded.

CanDo smiled at the King and said, “No thanks are necessary, Your Majesty, I’m doing ok.”

And the moral of the story is… while it’s a good thing to do what people ask of you, you also have to think for yourself and do the RIGHT THING. ¬† The End.

Ok, so I got a little carried away with the story. No one actually exploded last week, and I have never made a Marmite Nutella sandwich, with or without cinnamon; but I was asked to do something, in a hurry, that I didn’t think should be done. So I didn’t do it, and it turned out that I was RIGHT not to have done it. I win. The End.


The Dreaded Cruise

Yes, I am an ungrateful bitch. On Monday, I’m leaving for a 5-day Caribbean cruise with my husband and his parents (who are paying for the whole thing) and I DO NOT WANT TO GO. I’m being a whiny baby about it, nothing is going to be fun, it’s all going to be horrible, it will be loud and crowded and noisy and there will be horrible people and their even more horrible children all over the place and the room will be small and everything will be damp and smell funny and I will eat too much (although that one will be my own fault)¬†and it will either be too cold or I will get sunburnt and and and I just do NOT WANT TO GO.

Phew. That felt pretty good.

The cruise will suck, that’s how I feel –¬†I cannot help this feeling

Loud and crowd and overeat РBed too close to the ceiling

(And THAT is why I don’t write poetry)

Possibly the worst part is, we have made a conscious decision to NOT buy the wi-fi package so JUST as I am getting addicted to this blogging thing, and reading everything that so many fantastically talented people are writing, I will have to go FIVE WHOLE DAYS without it and them. Aauugghh, I’ll be SO far behind in my assignments!!! And I’ll have SO much reading to catch up on!!!

At least we’ll all have fun writing and reading about the misadventures of “DataTater At Sea” when I return.

It Shouldn’t Make Any Difference, Should It?

I’ve cut this from the 11 Jan 2015 edition of the Irish newspaper, the Belfast Telegraph:

“Father Martin Dolan has been a priest at the Church of St Nicholas of Myra in Francis Street in Dublin’s city for 15 years.

On Saturday past Fr Dolan confided in his parishioners during Mass and also on the Sunday morning.

He called on his congregation to support same sex marriage in the upcoming Irish referendum at the end of May.

He said: “I’m gay myself.””

Wow. I’m not naive enough to think there WON’T be some fallout from this, but seriously, I’m wondering why… If you’re celibate, does it really MATTER which type of genitals you’re NOT indulging in?