Beware, she bites

"I have come to the conclusion that one useless man is called a disgrace, that two are called a law firm and three or more become a Congress."

~ 1776 The Musical

It's 6:30 a.m. and the phone rings. I check the Caller ID. It's work. My boss's brother, Joe, said I had an operative report from Thursday that had not been sent back. He gave me the number. I hadn't even gone into my office yet. I was eating breakfast. I said I'd call him back. I checked. It wasn't on my computer. I checked the very careful list I keep of the jobs and there it was, one of the third batch of reports I downloaded, typed and sent back. I called Joe.

"I don't have it on my system, but it's on my list."

"We don't have it."

"It was signed off. It was a duplicate dictation. I sent an email."

"Oh, I haven't read the emails."

I gave him the number of the original report, said goodbye and hung up. It was 8:30 a.m. there and he was calling me before he had checked the list of returned jobs and the emails. Good. All right then. I can already tell this is not going to be a good week. So much for the five hours of sleep I got last night and I still have to take out the trash.

I got my semi-annual review in Friday's mail. There was good news and bad news. The good news is that my error rate for the previous six months was 0.09%. I had one error and I think it's in one of my macros. A word was missing. Not a major error, but it cost me 4 points and hence the 0.09% error rate, when it should have been a 0% error rate. Oh, well, there's always the next six months.

I have typed more average pages over the past six months than I did the previous six months, but my average page total is down nearly three pages. What's up with that? Therefore, the bad news is that I get less money for vacation and sick days. Good. All right then. And this is on top of all the times that the office calls, usually Joe, and asks me if I can do a few op reports that should have been done earlier in the day, the day before or the week before and need to go out NOW. I always do them. I even stop whatever I'm typing during the day to do special reports for doctors who must have their reports done first and can't wait in the queue for an hour or two. I'm their Go To Girl whenever they need something done quickly and accurately. That should make me feel good but it doesn't, especially not in light of a one-word mistake and a miscalculation of my page totals, in addition to working on the worst account in the company where my pay is automatically docked a minimum of 30% (according to their records and 45% according to my records and math skills).

This is no way to start the week and I can't take vacation until after September. I won't ask if things could get any worse, but then they would.

It's not like I don't have a job. I do. It's not like I don't like my job. I don't. It's not like I have to go to work in an office all day. I don't. And it's not like I have any other options -- at least not until my novels are published and I have a movie deal or two. I don't, not if I want to continue to work at home, thus saving gas, wear and tear on my car, the need for a whole new wardrobe and shoes and boots for inclement weather and my sanity. So, just to be clear, I'm not whining, just reminding people that this week is not a good week and that you should read the warning signs. Beware, she bites.

That is all. Disperse.