What the fuzzy-sweatered f*ck?
Dec. 1st, 2011 01:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lostakashaIs it 1988 again? Lemme see -- shoulder pads? Nope. Maxipads? Nope and nope.
How can the telemarketing manager not know how to type text into an Excel worksheet?
How does he not know keyboard save/cut/paste shortcuts?
When I want to go to the festering pustule that is my work's HQ, you know the situation is dire. But today I wish I could hop on a plane, arrive at the office, and shake the living shit out of the telemarketing manager.
He's not some pimply kid; this is a 40-something office worker with an absolutely astounding lack of office skills. As in picking up the phone and dialing out is it. I'm not sure what freaks me out more; this fact, or that his reaction to my request that he fill in a spreadsheet was "I'm really afraid I'm going to get fired."
Wait. WHAT?
Me: "You're afraid you'll get fired if you accept this assignment?"
Him: "No, if I make mistakes."
Me: "Well, you're going to make mistakes, but you're not going to get fired for them. It's just data entry, and I'll be here every step of the way if you need me."
Him: "But I've never done this before."
Me: "Thursdays are great for first times. Now let's get going..."
Okay. Anyone might fear that an obvious lack of skills might put them in jeopardy, true. But for that to be an immediate reaction to a task? Holy cow, either this guy's been traumatized within an inch of his life -- which, possible -- or...
*throws up hands*
*flails*
Then he says of my puny list of 150 names and addresses -- "that's a lot of typing."
Say what????
The rollercoaster of pity and disgust is just too loopy for me today.
In this economy, where great people with mad skills are on the street begging for crumbs, how in the holy hell does this fuckwittery happen?
I'd like to fire him -- as in throw him into a burning pit and put the lid on.
Jesus, take the fucking wheel. I don't care if you lost your sandals and the DMV says no barefootin' and your daddy's gone rogue, dammit, just drive.
*slams head on desk*
How can the telemarketing manager not know how to type text into an Excel worksheet?
How does he not know keyboard save/cut/paste shortcuts?
When I want to go to the festering pustule that is my work's HQ, you know the situation is dire. But today I wish I could hop on a plane, arrive at the office, and shake the living shit out of the telemarketing manager.
He's not some pimply kid; this is a 40-something office worker with an absolutely astounding lack of office skills. As in picking up the phone and dialing out is it. I'm not sure what freaks me out more; this fact, or that his reaction to my request that he fill in a spreadsheet was "I'm really afraid I'm going to get fired."
Wait. WHAT?
Me: "You're afraid you'll get fired if you accept this assignment?"
Him: "No, if I make mistakes."
Me: "Well, you're going to make mistakes, but you're not going to get fired for them. It's just data entry, and I'll be here every step of the way if you need me."
Him: "But I've never done this before."
Me: "Thursdays are great for first times. Now let's get going..."
Okay. Anyone might fear that an obvious lack of skills might put them in jeopardy, true. But for that to be an immediate reaction to a task? Holy cow, either this guy's been traumatized within an inch of his life -- which, possible -- or...
*throws up hands*
*flails*
Then he says of my puny list of 150 names and addresses -- "that's a lot of typing."
Say what????
The rollercoaster of pity and disgust is just too loopy for me today.
In this economy, where great people with mad skills are on the street begging for crumbs, how in the holy hell does this fuckwittery happen?
I'd like to fire him -- as in throw him into a burning pit and put the lid on.
Jesus, take the fucking wheel. I don't care if you lost your sandals and the DMV says no barefootin' and your daddy's gone rogue, dammit, just drive.
*slams head on desk*
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2011-12-01 06:40 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-12-01 06:57 pm (UTC)I love you, baybee. Srsly.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-12-01 07:04 pm (UTC)Also I hurt my ribs reading this. Bwah!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-12-01 07:05 pm (UTC)Tell Jesus I'll bring snacks.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-12-01 11:08 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-12-02 02:57 am (UTC)*dies laughing*
I don't know any keyboard shortcuts. But then, i don't work in an office, either, so....
*pet pet pet*