A Logic Problem For You

If I sent you the following in an e-mail on Wednesday afternoon....

"...Please make sure George Blow's computer gets checked over AS SOON AS IT GETS THERE and please get it back to him tomorrow; this is hugely important because he's been waiting for it for a long time and I told him he'd have it Thursday at the latest..."

Would anything in that message lead you, when asked on Thursday afternoon, "Is there any hurry for checking out George Blow's computer?" to answer, "No, not really..."???

I was working on a computer from my regular building, which I'd brought to the downtown building so I could finish it. It took longer than I thought, and so on Wednesday, when I packed it up to send back to the main building, I sent my boss (Joe) an e-mail containing the sentences above. I made it a point to emphasize that I wanted him to get the computer to George on Thursday because I'm off on Thursdays and I knew I was in no position to check up on him til Friday afternoon at the earliest.

I got to work Friday, and the ticket was still in my queue. I called Joe and left a message for him to call me; when no call was forthcoming, I called twice more, then called the help desk to see if he was even in the office. "He's in a meeting," I was told.

Around 5 PM--you know, when reasonable people on a 9-5 shift are pretty much ready to go home--I got a call from Carl, one of the other techs. (Carl actually used to be our boss, but due to office politics he was "reassigned"--translation: demoted--and his job was given to Joe. Carl was EASILY the best manager I'd ever had, and I was so mad when he got shafted like that...) Anyway, Carl called me to ask me a question....about George Blow's computer.

"That's not DONE?" I squeaked. "I TOTALLY e-mailed Joe on Wednesday to tell him that needed to be done YESTERDAY!"
"Well then how come he told me, when I asked him 'Is there any rush on the George Blow machine?' he told me 'No, not really,'?" Carl asked.
"Carl, I have NO idea. I told Joe that George should get that computer back on Thursday."
"Well why didn't you tell ME that?" Carl asked.
"Dude, I had NO IDEA that you were going to be the one who got it. I figured Joe would have assigned it to one of the new guys..."

And of course, by that point in the day, George had long ago left for home, so by this time there really WAS no point in hurrying. But steam was coming out my ears. Talking--or e-mailing--to Joe is like talking to a brick wall, I swear. There is literally no point in telling him ANYTHING, because he will ignore it, forget about it, override it, or otherwise discard it, and then leave US to clean up the mess when it comes.

--done venting now.

:::deep breath:::
Okay. Goodnight, all.

I Am Going To Kick SO Many People's Ass,

Tonight's candidates for the Oh My God, You Totally Have To Be Fucking Kidding Me Awards:

1. Mom.
Normally, in the grand scheme, I call Mom at about 6:50. Gives me time to feed the cats, open the mail, and pee. Everything else can wait.
Tonight: 6:45. I open the door. Feed the cats. Pee. Call mom. "bzz-bzz-bzz" Okay. Mom is talking to...someone.

7:00. I sit down at the desk with my fresh cocktail. Dial Mom: "bzz-bzz-bzz" Damn, Mom; get off the phone, eh?

7:15. 7:20. 7:25. Mom: "bzz-bzz-bzz". Oh. Um, Mom? Get off the phone. Seriously.
7:30. Call across-the-street neighbor, friend of mom's. "Hey, Mr. E. This is Mom's daughter Gladys. Could you do me a favor?" Mr. E tells me to call back in 10 min.

7:41. "Hi, Mr. E?" Mr E tells me that he and Cop Across The Street have stood on chairs and peered into windows. He and CATS don't want to break in, though. "Well, there's a key in the...." I tell Mr. E where key is stored. "Would you want me to go in and check?" he asks? "I would MUCH appreciate it," I tell him. "Call back in 10", he says. "Wait," I say. "Is her car there?" "Yep," says Mr. E.

7:50:59. "Hi, Mr. E?" I have already begun to frame my explanation for why I won't be in to work for the rest of the week. "Well," he says. "You might wanna hide that key somewhere else," he says. Which, yeah, okay, but NOT SO VERY IMPORTANT RIGHT JUST AT THE MOMENT, HM? "Me and CATS went through the whole place," he said. "It's a good thing CATS is a cop, because he knew all where to look--in the shower, down the basement, etc. She's not there." "If you see her," I say, "before I talk to her? Would you please tell her that she is in SO MUCH TROUBLE????"

I am serious. I am going to kick my mother's ass. Because O---M---F---G! How do you LEAVE THE PHONE OFF THE HOOK, Dingbat? And NOT CALL and NOT TELL your kid that you're going out?? And you're 79 YEARS OLD????

I am soooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooo pissed. She is going to get some SEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEErious shit from me.

(GAWD. These ELDERS today. You gotta watch out for them EVERY DAMN MINUTE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

I STILL do not know where she is. I STILL have no idea whether everything's okay. I assume, based on a lack of evidence to the contrary, that she's fine. But OHHHHHHHHHman, she is in SO. MUCH. TROUBLE.

Update--11:30--she's fine. Playing poker with her friendses, as a matter of fact. She lost--just what she deserved. I told her so. I also told her she is grounded for the REST of the WEEK and that's ALL THERE IS TO IT, YOUNG LADY. Also, do NOT raise your voice to me--or are you aiming for a NOTHER week in your room?

In further news: still, disgustingly and OHSOVERY dishearteningly. still MADLY in love with CR. (I am IDIOT, hear me ROAR.))