Retail Therapy

About to run off and grab m'self some lunch (early lunch because God I'm sick of being in this office), but thought I would make mention of the fact that it is finally payday. Which means I can go birthday present shopping. Also means that I can do the "treat myself because you have had a singularly crappy January" thing. So I trundled off to Amazon and purchased myself The Book of Madness and Ghouls: Fatal Addiction from my ever-expanding wishlist. Fine, I probably should have got WoD or Requiem, but I think I've given up on the idea of writing Vampire for this novel comp thing. I'm just not that into it. Still want the book, but it's not urgent. As for WoD, I'm convinced I can get a better price elsewhere. In any event, it's a bad idea to do too much shopping before one's birthday. I like to avoid the situation that weaselbitch and I had on her birthday and Christmas respectively where you get someone something only to find that they already have it.

Argh. At least someone told me I was helpful today. It's nice to be a little bit appreciated.

And the stress just keeps on coming.

Stupidity utter and complete.

There's some fol-de-rol with a document at the moment. Basically some company has asked the annoying consultant to make changes, fax them back so they could be incorporated into the document, and then the document needs to be retyped on the company end and couriered here so that he can sign the bloody thing and have it couriered back to the company so that it gets to where it's supposed to be tomorrow.

Except the lady at the company did not check the address before couriering this document. Sent it to the wrong place -- instead of to my office, they sent it to one of the labs where the annoying consultant sets up shop sometimes. No problem, you'd think -- we know it was signed for and that it was probably dumped in the annoying consultant's room. However, the fact is that he will not go to his room to fetch this document, instead content to have me ring 'round like an idiot to see if it's even traceable before I go and pick it up. Wouldn't it be easier if he just went and signed the thing and brought it back to me? He knows where his office is, presumably.

And then there's the notes. He wants notes on a patient in the hopes that his phone number's in them. However, I filed them last week. After I file them, I don't know what happens to them, and if people don't book the notes out, I can't trace them to where they're supposed to go. This happens. It's impossible to control or predict. So the bloody annoying consultant has no damn right to snap at me for not knowing where the notes are when they're not where I put them.

I hate this man, this job and life in general just at the moment.

On the other hand, there was a luciusmarwood update last night that made me laugh, so I suppose it's not all bad. Thanks, weaselbitch; that particular write-up was well-timed. I can't really remember if you're owed an XP but take it anyway.