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October 29, 2009

October 16th Part One.

I am eye twitchy like a mother fucker.

Hi, yes, so good to see you as well.

So the last time we spoke I tried to bribe someone with a blow job to find some shoes. It didn’t work and I am wearing the sensible (gasp!) substitute ones that I got instead and they feel like I am giving birth through my feet. No, Blanche, I don’t know how it is possible for three inch pumps to be uncomfortable. Moving along.

Okay, so, yes. I have been gone for a while, but this time (baby) I actually have a good excuse. Well, not really. It sounds good on paper. I mean, it sounds perfect on paper. Kind of like that guy you accepted a date from online and when you met him in person he wasn’t the 6’2”, dark haired, green eyed, athletically built, from old money with a huge… trust fund that he had billed himself to be. More like a 5’7”, dirty dreds, one left cast eye, built like a star fruit and living in a van down by the river with a really huge… goiter kind of guy.

Excuse = I had surgery.

Send wine… and a really large (mute) Samoan with talents in massage therapy. (This is not the first time I have requested this. I will continue to do so until I have said Samoan on property.)

That excuse sounds pretty good right? But then you factor in that I was at home recovering for the better part of 4 weeks… then the excuse unravels into a poorly thought out concept filled with days of HGTV, all the books I could get my hands on. Oh, and a twitchy right eye. Not one little blog entry (or blog read) in sight.

Seriously. The 140 characters of Twitter were too much for me to handle. I am fragile.

I have a theory about the eye. We’ll get to that in a minute.

So, yeah, I am back at work and was on FMLA while I was out. I wasn’t supposed to work, or check email, or talk to people about work… or do mail merges and put together a packet of stuff for my speakers that was collated by someone at the office and mailed out. So, yeah, I definitely DIDN’T do that… or anything. I was a model patient. Sweet, caring, kind, quiet… Ha.

If you are new ‘round these parts here’s an FYI… I mentioned it before but my plumbing was jacked so they went rooting around amongst my innards and decided to remove my uterus. I do not miss it. It was kind of like a couch surfing cousin with the tendency to overstay their welcome, speak of inappropriate things at family dinners and borrow your car and return it with the fuel indicator reading “EMPTY! BITCHES!”.

Yes, my uterus was a parasitic frat boy on the 7 year college plan.

Clear, concise, perfectly worded entry. Yes, coming right up. (Riiiiiiiight.)

So in the few weeks that I was home I worried about work a bunch. I was all butt clenchy and doing laundry and dishes and short of re-shingling the roof, SURE, I totally took a break. I completely relaxed. Except for that time, like a day or two after I got out of the hospital and my mother and I cleaned out my closet.


Okay. Yes, I did over do it. I over did everything enough that my doctor ordered me to sit the hell down. He also made me stay out of work for seven business days longer than I expected. I went back to work on Monday the 26th. You know when I relaxed? On the 20th. I finally GOT it. I finally realized that they don’t just tell you shit like, “Relax, rest, sleep, don’t lift anything over five pounds, no bending or stooping, take it easy.” just for the sheer fun of making you change purses. There is a reason. And if you have surgery, I don’t care what kind, please… follow your doctor’s orders.

This is how weak I have been y’all. I have played ONE game of Rock Band 2. ONE.

On to the eye twitch. So yeah, I totally worked when I was out on leave. I was only planning on being out for two weeks. And when the doctor was like, “Listen, sister, if you do not follow my orders, I am going to keep adding days, NAY… WEEKS, to your leave time.” I finally stopped checking email (sort of) and calling coworkers, ect.

But nothing, seriously, nothing prepared me for the day of the 16th.

I have been working at my current job for just about six years. On December 1st, the reign of Sue will reach that six year mark. I’m kind of proud of it in a weird way. Kind of like being proud that my marriage has lasted this long. Shut up. It is the little things that matter.

Anyway, I save certain things in my Outlook folders. I have many subfolders under my personal folders. The IT department harps on us to keep our Inbox empty as possible and keep everything that we are not currently working on under our personal folders. On top of the stuff that I need, but am not currently working on, I save three years of past conference stuff (that I totally reference ALL the freaking time) and I have other folders of conference stuff that I have planned out through 2012.

What? I am a planner. That is what I DO*.

*It is not who I am.

So I was hanging around the house the morning of the 16th. During my post surgery sabbatical I took to getting up when Mister did, just so I wouldn’t be on a wacky world of Susan sleep schedule (this, if I had my druthers, would be 2am – 9 am, maybe the preferred 3 am – 10 am or something weird like 3 am – 7 am with a nap from 2-3:30 pm). I was reading one of the many books that I devoured along the way and my personal cell phone rang. I looked at the number and it was coming from the office. I answered and there was a man from IT on the line.

Little fleshing out the story with a bit about my personal relationship with this man. I affectionately refer to him as Satan. He makes my life SO complicated sometimes. For some reason (oh, YES, I will totally give you a reason) he can push my buttons like nobody’s business. And NO, not in a good way. Case in point; a coworker and I were in San Antonio and we were trying to get connected to our system remotely, so we could get some work done. We had an IP address, yadda yadda yadda, all I wanted him to do was to white flag it with the security system, wasn’t happening… three hours later and with almost a full day’s help from the resident audio visual/tech guy on site, Satan actually told me, “Get your facts straight before you complain.” I put the phone down and walked off. (Leaving the poor AV guy to try and salvage what tenuous thread of patience he had left.)

I believe in customer service…. Internal and external. This guy and I are not on the same page. At all.

So when I picked up my phone (my personal cell phone… the number that he shouldn’t have) I was completely surprised to find Satan at the other end of my hello. The following conversation** took place:

**maybe with a bit of creative license but not much

Satan: Susan?
self: Yes.
Satan: It’s Satan.
self: Hello. (I said trepidatiously.)
Satan: I have some bad news.
Satan: I have lost all of your .pst files.
self: Excuse me?
Satan: I was repartitioning your hard drive and something happened with the backup.
self: Something.
Satan: Yes, there was an issue and even with the backups from Carbonite, the backups, (which were current) come in corrupted.
self: You have been telling me and the rest of the company to put everything under our personal folders for years.
Satan: Yes.
self: And we have.
Satan: Yes.
self: And now it is gone.
Satan: Yes. I must apologize.
self: Okay.
Satan: Um, I apologize.
self: Do you realize that you have lost over three years worth of past conference materials, all of my sponsorship information, speaker reference emails and all of the conferences materials that I have planned out through 2012.
Satan: Yes.
self: Yes?
Satan: Yes, and I apologize.
self: Satan, you will find and replace that material. All of it.
Satan: I will try.
self: [I started to get that scary calm voice, but I was shaking SO hard.] I need to go up the chain of command with this.
Satan: I understand.
self: This must be fixed.
Satan: I understand.
self: You… do?
Satan: Yes.
self: Bye.

So I called my boss and left her a message, called the IT demi-god out of Austin whom around certain circles is referred to as “The Wolf” (because he gets shit done, yo) and told him about the issue. He was all, “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck, seriously?” I said, “Yeah, seriously, is there anything you can do?” He said he would poke around ect. I got a call back from my boss, Satan had just left her office. He admitted to her that he had made two grave mistakes, one when doing the back up, and one somewhere else. He forgot to mention these to me. Apparently he didn’t have his facts straight before he cut me off at the knees. She basically said, “Well, if they can’t find the backup, just rebuild.”

And then I threw up.

Now, I don’t know about y’all. But when I get angry… I mean, really really angry… two things happen. Well, three. Number one, my eyes turn blue. Number two, I cry. Number three, I get even angrier because I am being such a pussy and CRYING. How cliché.

But I have never gone straight from full blown rage… to vomit.

Twas a first.


So I was all Fra-Gee-Lay and went into the living room to channel surf.

I think I will end this one here and pick it up again with the next part, I like to call, “The Day I Dropped Mah Basket.” Imagine me saying that all hiccuppy, crying with a thick Southern accent.

About October 2009

This page contains all entries posted to Suzanna Danna in October 2009. They are listed from oldest to newest.

September 2009 is the previous archive.

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