So, my BF's company has this main client... Who has asked us to work with another contractor he has to develop some code to interact with third party software designed by this contractor (who I'll call... Moron, because he is one).
Moron has consistently, since the start of the project, made numerous assumptions about our code and how it operates, and proceeded to try and tell us how to do our jobs, and how to re-write code that he hasn't even seen. He has been rude, condescending, and completely unprofessional as well. And its taken him 6 months to do a job we could have done in 2 weeks. But yes, he is all knowing, and we're the idiots... =\
Well, I've just about had it with this guy. The latest set of emails that have gone back and forth have been about setting up testing to make sure that our code and his code interact properly. What does he want to do? He wants us to test it on our client's LIVE system. The PRODUCTION system. The one where if something breaks, our client loses business. We of course told him that this was a stupid idea that not only goes against our corporate policy (it does -- we're not idiots), that it would endanger our client's system, and that it was not a viable means of testing anything (it's not. ever heard of a controlled environment?). But his response to that was to try to impune us in front of our mutual client, to call us stupid (not in those words of course), and proceed to tell us how HE thinks we should implement his idea (despite the fact that our code isn't written the way he thinks its is -- and a good thing too, or the thing would fall apart under the least bit of stress).
Every time we get an email from this guy, I have an anxiety attack. Hell, all I have to do is see his name in my inbox, and my heart rate goes through the roof. I've gone through more Ativan just reading his emails than I have ... well, ever.
The problem is, I want to tell him off. I NEED to tell him off. But I have no idea how to go about doing that. See, I understand whats going on, but I lack the scientific jargon to refer to it properly. I lack the intimate details of the processes, and as such, I'm sure I would end up sounding stupid.
But this guy needs to be put in his place. He is bad-mouthing our company based on his half-assed ideas and assumptions (incorrect ones, btw), and ridiculing us for being professional and scientifically sound in our quality assurance practices. And I, for one, am fucking sick of his bullshit.
Any suggestions on how best to shove my foot so far up this guy's ass that he chokes on my shoe laces would be greatly appreciated... =)
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Monday, April 09, 2007
Allergic to Nevada
This past friday, the BF and I had to drive my son up to Nevada to see his dad for spring break. We're picking him back up again this coming Sunday... *sigh* But anyway... I was fine for most of the 6 hour trek (including stops, mind you. If we'd driven straight through, it would only have taken 4 and a half hours).
Fine through the central valley, fine through the foothills, fine through most of the mountains -- until we got over 4500ft, when I started getting elevation sickness -- but then we crossed the state line, and headed down out of the mountains, into the desert. And I do mean DESERT.
For those of you who have never been to any part of Nevada, or any part of Nevada other than Reno or Las Vegas -- the entire state of Nevada is nothing but dust and very very low scrub brush. There are no trees. There is no grass. There are no streams, no rivers, no wildflowers or puffy happy shrubs.
You know the saying "I'm in the middle of BFE"? Well, Nevada embodies BFE. Bum Fucking Empty.
So we enter BFE... And the humidity drops to oh, say, negative 75% (yes, an exaggeration, but I really don't see how the air could have gotten any drier). For me, who finds the bay area too dry (averages 35% humidity), this additional drop in moisture was too much for my poor poor respiratory system.
It was as if someone had taken my sinuses, microwaved all the water out of them, then balled up some barbed wire, and stuffed that into my head. My chest hurt from trying to breathe all the dust.
And we were still not at our destination.
Our destination required us to drive through a one stop light piss poor excuse of a town, drive another 15 miles or so through an even smaller piss poor excuse of a town, then drive 5 miles to the ONLY stop sign for 20 miles, go off the paved road, drive past what seemed to be a junk yard, to try and find one lone house in the middle of... well... BFE.
The drive there was somewhat interesting, what with the kamakaze jack rabbits and high wind warnings, and being scared to death the car would break down in the middle of nowhere, with no cell service and the getting a little bit lost because apparently mapquest doesn't know the difference between left and right in Nevada, and all (I was having those waking nightmare hallucination things I get when I'm too stressed out)... But that was more hare-raising (haha, sorry, couldn't resist) than enjoyable, and the whole time I'm saying over and over: oh my god. oh my fucking god. there is NOTHING out here. Nothing! oh my god.
Not that I don't like the middle of nowhere. I do. But I prefer my middle of nowhere to be... Well... Tree covered. With water sources that don't require a half mile of drilling to get to. And wild animals that you can kill for food if you get stranded. Not the kind of middle of nowhere that has TUMBLEWEEDS and nothing else.
So yeah... We drop off the kiddo (and suffer through his dad trying to show off the pre-fab house they plopped down on their 5 acres of dust), and head back in to Reno to get dinner.
The moment I get out of the car in Reno, I have an asthma attack. Me, being the stubborn "no I'm not sick, I can handle this" kind of person that I am, I walked it off. Well, that and I was starving, and needed food, or I was going to keel over anyway. So I basically couldn't breathe. And someone had decided that on top of the barbed wire in my head, they were going to detonate a shrapnel grenade too...
Needless to say I had a hard time eating dinner. And I was miserable. Even just the short walk to the restroom left me gasping for air for a good 10 minutes. So it was a good thing the BF wasn't the least bit interested in Reno (he and I are both too intelligent to fall for slot machines with flashy lights on them). We got back on the road, and didn't stop until we were well back across the California border.
Guess what? 5 minutes after we got back into California... The barbed wire and shrapnel miraculously disappeared. The asthma went away. I could breathe again.
And given that last time I was in Nevada (Las Vegas), I wound up in the ER with full blown pneumonia after being there for 24 hours...
I've decided that I am allergic to Nevada. The entire state.
Fine through the central valley, fine through the foothills, fine through most of the mountains -- until we got over 4500ft, when I started getting elevation sickness -- but then we crossed the state line, and headed down out of the mountains, into the desert. And I do mean DESERT.
For those of you who have never been to any part of Nevada, or any part of Nevada other than Reno or Las Vegas -- the entire state of Nevada is nothing but dust and very very low scrub brush. There are no trees. There is no grass. There are no streams, no rivers, no wildflowers or puffy happy shrubs.
You know the saying "I'm in the middle of BFE"? Well, Nevada embodies BFE. Bum Fucking Empty.
So we enter BFE... And the humidity drops to oh, say, negative 75% (yes, an exaggeration, but I really don't see how the air could have gotten any drier). For me, who finds the bay area too dry (averages 35% humidity), this additional drop in moisture was too much for my poor poor respiratory system.
It was as if someone had taken my sinuses, microwaved all the water out of them, then balled up some barbed wire, and stuffed that into my head. My chest hurt from trying to breathe all the dust.
And we were still not at our destination.
Our destination required us to drive through a one stop light piss poor excuse of a town, drive another 15 miles or so through an even smaller piss poor excuse of a town, then drive 5 miles to the ONLY stop sign for 20 miles, go off the paved road, drive past what seemed to be a junk yard, to try and find one lone house in the middle of... well... BFE.
The drive there was somewhat interesting, what with the kamakaze jack rabbits and high wind warnings, and being scared to death the car would break down in the middle of nowhere, with no cell service and the getting a little bit lost because apparently mapquest doesn't know the difference between left and right in Nevada, and all (I was having those waking nightmare hallucination things I get when I'm too stressed out)... But that was more hare-raising (haha, sorry, couldn't resist) than enjoyable, and the whole time I'm saying over and over: oh my god. oh my fucking god. there is NOTHING out here. Nothing! oh my god.
Not that I don't like the middle of nowhere. I do. But I prefer my middle of nowhere to be... Well... Tree covered. With water sources that don't require a half mile of drilling to get to. And wild animals that you can kill for food if you get stranded. Not the kind of middle of nowhere that has TUMBLEWEEDS and nothing else.
So yeah... We drop off the kiddo (and suffer through his dad trying to show off the pre-fab house they plopped down on their 5 acres of dust), and head back in to Reno to get dinner.
The moment I get out of the car in Reno, I have an asthma attack. Me, being the stubborn "no I'm not sick, I can handle this" kind of person that I am, I walked it off. Well, that and I was starving, and needed food, or I was going to keel over anyway. So I basically couldn't breathe. And someone had decided that on top of the barbed wire in my head, they were going to detonate a shrapnel grenade too...
Needless to say I had a hard time eating dinner. And I was miserable. Even just the short walk to the restroom left me gasping for air for a good 10 minutes. So it was a good thing the BF wasn't the least bit interested in Reno (he and I are both too intelligent to fall for slot machines with flashy lights on them). We got back on the road, and didn't stop until we were well back across the California border.
Guess what? 5 minutes after we got back into California... The barbed wire and shrapnel miraculously disappeared. The asthma went away. I could breathe again.
And given that last time I was in Nevada (Las Vegas), I wound up in the ER with full blown pneumonia after being there for 24 hours...
I've decided that I am allergic to Nevada. The entire state.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)