ranty - skin feedback and buffets
Jul. 13th, 2005 08:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
liri
A thought: Telling someone that the color schemes on a few of their skins made you want to wash your eyes with acid is really not the best way to get them to make the skins you want them to make, even if this is a perfectly valid criticism of certain of their creations.
But now I kind of want to make an FLCL skin... I'm thinking a lime-green-and-purple gradient layer set to burn will make it sufficiently pretty. This is the same impulse I have whenever people ask me for skins of GODDAMN FUCKING SEPHIROTH. Trouble is, making the skin is too much effort. Maybe I'll pretend I've made a skin, create a fake screencap and post it as if it is one and then either have no download link to it, or else it'll be a link to one of the FF6 skins... but then they'd email me. If only I could think it'd be funny enough to justify all the annoyance.
Or, worse, they'd actually like it. They liked the fugly, non-functional FF8 thing, my second skin ever. Never underestimate the stupid.
Annoyance is my theme for today. At work, we have to have ANOTHER celebration lunch, blargh.
My situation, currently, is that I work in the billing department of public works for the city where I live. The job itself is routine but not bad, certainly an improvement over the phone center where I worked for two long years before this; it's my coworkers who drive me up a wall. They're perfectly nice people (except Klan Smurf, my internal name for the woman who forwarded the racist poem a while back - and even she appears to be perfectly nice, even sugary, it's just she then sends stuff like that) it's just that they're all about twice my age, so we have little in common, and more than that, I just don't like humans very much. So all the little things that just come of having a bunch of humans in one place - the sounds of other people talking, making phone calls, and listening to the radio, or sighing loudly and often when performing the simplest of tasks, not that the woman, privately nicknamed "Whiny," in the cube right next to mine EVER does that or anything - start to get on my nerves, and that's the real cause of a lot of my complaints and homicidal urges over the course of a day. I try to keep it off the LJ because I realize nobody actually wants to hear about my every temporary annoyance, and because it really is just trivial BS. Though of course I'm doing just that right now. I said "try."
Anyway. The woman who's been our supervisor for months now just finally officially got the job - I guess she'd been acting supervisor. Yay for her, and all that. She decided we should go out for lunch on Friday to celebrate. I immediately began plotting to extricate myself. I can be happy for her from a distance while eating a bag lunch. Please?
Once, team lunches were fine by me, back when I worked in the phone center. I realize that those of you who were around when I was posting the daily rants about the coworker I called Tim LaHaye (actually a woman, named for a different best-selling writer - I named her Tim because the Left Behind books were the only fiction she ever read) may not believe this, but I liked most of my comrades-in-phone. Tim was a special case, with the loud radio, the attitude, the putting customers on hold to make personal calls, the eating of oranges right next to me (I can't stand the smell of oranges, watching somebody peel and eat one can make me gag) the discussions of Armageddon with customers, the ARGH I HATED HER SO. MUCH. Before she arrived, I liked the people and hated the job. I don't hate the people in billing, except for Klan Smurf, but I can think of lots of things I'd rather do with my time than sit around silently while they talk about food and their grandkids, or in one case (my birthday lunch) whine non-stop about the service, the food, the price of the food, and the amount of salt on the breadsticks. Whiny believes in earning her name. (It was just her! Everyone else liked their food! I swear to God, that woman....)
Plus, we tend to favor buffets - this is actually wise, when you have a party of twelve, in terms of efficiency in getting seats and food, but as the tale of the nauseating "Thai" buffet proves, it can make for a barely-edible meal, and everyone loves Golden Corral, which is known, at dinners, for steaks, and for a lunch buffet much favored by the slow-moving elderly. There's usually macaroni at least, so yayz. If by "yayz" one means "I guess this'll tide me over until I get back to my desk where the granola bars live." I desperately resent spending $7 to eat overcooked macaroni and cardboard-y brownies while gnashing my teeth over the aforementioned slow-moving elderly. If only I had picked up the habit of walking slowly myself I would be a much more serene, cheerful person, I'm certain of it, but unfortunately, I am a comparatively fast-moving person in a world of mosey-ers and IT HURTS MY SOUL.
So when a coworker declared we were going to Golden Corral, I decided to lay the groundwork for my escape. "It's too bad, I need to take a half-hour lunch Friday and leave early," I said, confident that I could prevail. But the supervisor, with Silverberg-like skillz, had already outmaneuvered me - "Oh, she'll work with us on that, I already asked her," my coworker said. I nodded and chewed on my defeat for a bit, wondering if I could recoup, pondering my budget for the next month (I really am trying to save money, and the office's habit of scheduling this sort of thing for right after payday is, in all seriousness, something I want to escape - thinking "I have money, I can splurge now" is a really stupid thing I tend to do, and being compelled to splurge, on something I don't even want, just compounds the problem) and contemplating calling in sick. Then we got the email from the supervisor - lunch is on her.
Reactions:
1) Curses! Defeat tastes like cold coffee!
2) Hey, free lunch.
3) That's pretty generous - maybe she's getting a really nice raise with the officializing of the promotion. It'd be ungracious to decline, even if the macaroni is kind of mushy.
4) ...can I still keep that half-hour early thing I was making noises about?
So, I am vanquished, but at least it's not the gross "Thai" place again.
Edit - I just opened an obvious spam mail out of curiosity, and the URL to the porn site included the name "kellycapowski." Like, from Saved By The Bell? Now I'm disturbed and I have the song stuck in my head. Hopefully I can pass at least one of these reactions along.
But now I kind of want to make an FLCL skin... I'm thinking a lime-green-and-purple gradient layer set to burn will make it sufficiently pretty. This is the same impulse I have whenever people ask me for skins of GODDAMN FUCKING SEPHIROTH. Trouble is, making the skin is too much effort. Maybe I'll pretend I've made a skin, create a fake screencap and post it as if it is one and then either have no download link to it, or else it'll be a link to one of the FF6 skins... but then they'd email me. If only I could think it'd be funny enough to justify all the annoyance.
Or, worse, they'd actually like it. They liked the fugly, non-functional FF8 thing, my second skin ever. Never underestimate the stupid.
Annoyance is my theme for today. At work, we have to have ANOTHER celebration lunch, blargh.
My situation, currently, is that I work in the billing department of public works for the city where I live. The job itself is routine but not bad, certainly an improvement over the phone center where I worked for two long years before this; it's my coworkers who drive me up a wall. They're perfectly nice people (except Klan Smurf, my internal name for the woman who forwarded the racist poem a while back - and even she appears to be perfectly nice, even sugary, it's just she then sends stuff like that) it's just that they're all about twice my age, so we have little in common, and more than that, I just don't like humans very much. So all the little things that just come of having a bunch of humans in one place - the sounds of other people talking, making phone calls, and listening to the radio, or sighing loudly and often when performing the simplest of tasks, not that the woman, privately nicknamed "Whiny," in the cube right next to mine EVER does that or anything - start to get on my nerves, and that's the real cause of a lot of my complaints and homicidal urges over the course of a day. I try to keep it off the LJ because I realize nobody actually wants to hear about my every temporary annoyance, and because it really is just trivial BS. Though of course I'm doing just that right now. I said "try."
Anyway. The woman who's been our supervisor for months now just finally officially got the job - I guess she'd been acting supervisor. Yay for her, and all that. She decided we should go out for lunch on Friday to celebrate. I immediately began plotting to extricate myself. I can be happy for her from a distance while eating a bag lunch. Please?
Once, team lunches were fine by me, back when I worked in the phone center. I realize that those of you who were around when I was posting the daily rants about the coworker I called Tim LaHaye (actually a woman, named for a different best-selling writer - I named her Tim because the Left Behind books were the only fiction she ever read) may not believe this, but I liked most of my comrades-in-phone. Tim was a special case, with the loud radio, the attitude, the putting customers on hold to make personal calls, the eating of oranges right next to me (I can't stand the smell of oranges, watching somebody peel and eat one can make me gag) the discussions of Armageddon with customers, the ARGH I HATED HER SO. MUCH. Before she arrived, I liked the people and hated the job. I don't hate the people in billing, except for Klan Smurf, but I can think of lots of things I'd rather do with my time than sit around silently while they talk about food and their grandkids, or in one case (my birthday lunch) whine non-stop about the service, the food, the price of the food, and the amount of salt on the breadsticks. Whiny believes in earning her name. (It was just her! Everyone else liked their food! I swear to God, that woman....)
Plus, we tend to favor buffets - this is actually wise, when you have a party of twelve, in terms of efficiency in getting seats and food, but as the tale of the nauseating "Thai" buffet proves, it can make for a barely-edible meal, and everyone loves Golden Corral, which is known, at dinners, for steaks, and for a lunch buffet much favored by the slow-moving elderly. There's usually macaroni at least, so yayz. If by "yayz" one means "I guess this'll tide me over until I get back to my desk where the granola bars live." I desperately resent spending $7 to eat overcooked macaroni and cardboard-y brownies while gnashing my teeth over the aforementioned slow-moving elderly. If only I had picked up the habit of walking slowly myself I would be a much more serene, cheerful person, I'm certain of it, but unfortunately, I am a comparatively fast-moving person in a world of mosey-ers and IT HURTS MY SOUL.
So when a coworker declared we were going to Golden Corral, I decided to lay the groundwork for my escape. "It's too bad, I need to take a half-hour lunch Friday and leave early," I said, confident that I could prevail. But the supervisor, with Silverberg-like skillz, had already outmaneuvered me - "Oh, she'll work with us on that, I already asked her," my coworker said. I nodded and chewed on my defeat for a bit, wondering if I could recoup, pondering my budget for the next month (I really am trying to save money, and the office's habit of scheduling this sort of thing for right after payday is, in all seriousness, something I want to escape - thinking "I have money, I can splurge now" is a really stupid thing I tend to do, and being compelled to splurge, on something I don't even want, just compounds the problem) and contemplating calling in sick. Then we got the email from the supervisor - lunch is on her.
Reactions:
1) Curses! Defeat tastes like cold coffee!
2) Hey, free lunch.
3) That's pretty generous - maybe she's getting a really nice raise with the officializing of the promotion. It'd be ungracious to decline, even if the macaroni is kind of mushy.
4) ...can I still keep that half-hour early thing I was making noises about?
So, I am vanquished, but at least it's not the gross "Thai" place again.
Edit - I just opened an obvious spam mail out of curiosity, and the URL to the porn site included the name "kellycapowski." Like, from Saved By The Bell? Now I'm disturbed and I have the song stuck in my head. Hopefully I can pass at least one of these reactions along.