Obviously, I understand many of these True Detective Stories are little more than bitch-fests. That said, this is the bitchiest bitch-fest I have ever written since I started blogging in 2005.
(2005? Holy crap, I’ve wasted sixteen years of my life!)
After two glorious days off, I returned to work Thursday afternoon ready to roll up my sleeves and put in the usual twenty unassigned jobs my coworkers left me. The good news is there were not twenty unassigned jobs in the queue, there were sixty-one.
After seeing the list, I stood up and walked downstairs, went out the door, and walked around the building before I literally murdered someone. I came back, notified my supervisor, and started entering the jobs. So I was looking at sixty-one jobs, plus the current jobs which were coming in. I worked from 3pm to 9pm, only stopping to use the bathroom and a very quick scarfing of my salad…
I was at the pistol range on my last day, then off for two days. Three different detectives took the front desk each day, and I sincerely do not know what they did for eight hours. Yes, nightwork is busy, but the replacements put in maybe ten to twelve jobs. You couldn’t enter a few of the old jobs, too?
I mean, I like a good amount of my coworkers, but they seem to stop working when I’m not in the building. It’s almost as if I can’t take a day off for fear of coming back to a crap ton of work which should have been handled.
In the end, I managed to enter fifty-two jobs, which I believe are the most jobs entered in one eight-hour tour. I was pretty proud of myself, considering, and was even more proud of myself for not burning the building down.
Oh, I guess the silver lining is all those detectives’ inboxes are full with jobs, because they were the ones working when the jobs accumulated.