I'm delivery and installing some furniture. What should have been a relatively easy day was an unbelievable clusterfuck because of inadequate plans and incorrect plans. Details weren't clear and details weren't verified. One such detail was just who the fuck my client was. I had a few people coming around who were barking orders and instructions. Due to what they were telling me and the product not matching my plans, I spent the morning on my phone rather than actually working.
After dealing with that treat, we had to finish things off with a couple of office suites. Real simple, just tell me what office they go to. Oh, the designer doesn't know, but "they" will. This just struck a nerve with me. I just spent my morning trying to clean up your clusterfuck because you are too fucking lazy to do your job correctly, and now all I need is a fucking office number, and you won't give me that, I'm supposed to ask "them". I reply back "who are "they"? I need the name of the person who is making this decision."
I was worried that this was a little snippy and sassy, but decided to hell with it. This asshat needs to realize that his little lazy shenanigans piss me off and I'm not just going to kiss his ass.
He comes back with an excuse: he doesn't know who was showing up today so he doesn't know who I should ask. Good enough for me. I check in with the first person I see, whom has no idea where it should go. Good enough for me, we're placing it in the hall here, call us back in when you figure it out.
If and when we have to go back to place this stuff, let the 3-way dance begin between my office, the designer and the client over who is paying for the return trip, I'm all out of fucks to give.
After dealing with that treat, we had to finish things off with a couple of office suites. Real simple, just tell me what office they go to. Oh, the designer doesn't know, but "they" will. This just struck a nerve with me. I just spent my morning trying to clean up your clusterfuck because you are too fucking lazy to do your job correctly, and now all I need is a fucking office number, and you won't give me that, I'm supposed to ask "them". I reply back "who are "they"? I need the name of the person who is making this decision."
I was worried that this was a little snippy and sassy, but decided to hell with it. This asshat needs to realize that his little lazy shenanigans piss me off and I'm not just going to kiss his ass.
He comes back with an excuse: he doesn't know who was showing up today so he doesn't know who I should ask. Good enough for me. I check in with the first person I see, whom has no idea where it should go. Good enough for me, we're placing it in the hall here, call us back in when you figure it out.
If and when we have to go back to place this stuff, let the 3-way dance begin between my office, the designer and the client over who is paying for the return trip, I'm all out of fucks to give.
Comment