The Morning And I Are Not Friends
At best, we have a mutual agreement to try as hard as we can to stay out of each other's ways until I have an ample enough amount of coffee in my bloodstream to deal with the inevitable onslaught of bullshit that is my office email account. My coworkers know this. I can be a pleasant person. I'm relatable and kind to others...
So long as I've had my coffee.
After three years on a relatively small team, you get to know your coworkers. They get to know you. And everyone knows, don't talk to Quantum until his coffee is at LEAST 3/4 done, and he's had time to read his emails. But today, everyone decided they'd just ignore the rules.
It's one thing if I walk into the office and everything is on fire. I can engage a rare "panic recovery mode" and help get things back on track if there's been a virus outbreak or a server malfunction. These are rare emergencies that demand my very best, and I'm willing to provide it. But if my day starts out with snarky, witty remarks from those that got in the office two hours earlier and have already had time to acclimate to the environment, then we're all in for a bad time. Quantum doesn't deal well with snark this early.
I didn't even get TO my desk before I was fending off the laughing, jovial taunts of my coworkers. I don't even remember what was said, because my brain immediately started to plot about the retribution that must be paid for the transgression. Someone's perfectly organized desk was going to have a pen holder out of place after lunch, that much was for certain. I'm not a prankster, no, they would not pay their penance in a fell swoop. Instead, I would take my payments in the form of minor inconveniences until I was bored, satisfied, or properly caffeinated, whichever came first.
A Wave of Stupidity
I deal with real pieces of work sometimes. Coworker's taunts aside, the real struggle of the day was a seemingly endless wave of emails from those who refused to so much as give my replies a cursory glance before flying off the handles that I must be mis-managing their accounts. After three back-to-back emails about one such instance with a single customer, I received a call from them, to my desk phone.
I do NOT take calls on my desk phone. This is a capital offense, but I'm not allowed retaliatory strikes against customers. The boss forbade it. So, after being stunned at the strange noise my phone was making, I answered it, and endured several minutes of auditory insolence before simply reading, aloud, the last email that I sent the customer, where I explained everything in the simplest language possible. This column had the stuff we WERE working on, that column had the stuff we WEREN'T working on. Despite the big bold headers she had confused the two somehow. After hearing it she suddenly seemed to understand, proving that she didn't bother with basic literacy. Next time I'll use giant glittery letters I guess.
Not Even Two Hours In
And I've given up. All hope for humanity is lost, and all I want to do is go home, where at least the anxiety of needing to pack up my entire livelihood and transition to a new place of living has become the new norm. I have enough going on in my life to worry about your inability to do the most basic human functions when you're several times my pay grade.
But I digress. There's always a bigger fish, or in this case a dumber one. I gave up on making any significant headway on any of my projects rather early, and hit the big fat AUTOPILOT button on my brain. There was no sense in trying anything else. The morning had won this day, going back on a years-long truce in the great war. I'm not sure what plans I would concoct for my rebuttal, but it was clear that mornings and I were to do battle once more, and soon.
How Do YOU Fight the Morning? Where is Your Greatest Battle Waged?
