![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
What next?
Jan. 23rd, 2006 08:32 pmWe stopped at the kids' place on the way home yesterday, and the sight of Drew hobbling around on his knee brace put me on notice that today would dawn with challenges ahead, surely, but it would appear I underestimated those somewhat.
Galina told me that Drew would open the store and do the report and go home, so I would go in to help in the morning, and we'd swap around 10, at which point I'd go translate and she'd be left to work with Brady, our one employee.
It didn't quite work out that way.
<whine>
I guess we'd put the boys on the very edge of burnout (if not over) by abandoning them and going to Houston for a week, because it turned out that a number of things had been left undone at the shop, of which the non-filing of the Q4 sales tax return was the least of my worries. Drew was not there today, would not be, and appeared to stop taking my calls after about the fourth one, so I was left alone until Brady showed up to cope with customers and two reports (Saturday's, and the one from Friday had not been done because Drew was working the store alone on Saturday).
The back computer had gone to sleep and uncharacteristically would not wake up in response to my gentle keytaps and encouraging mouse gestures, so I ended up pulling the plug on it and all the unsaved files that were open at the time. Customers kept me from logging back in for a good hour, at least. Brady called to say he had overslept and would be in 30 minutes late. I seriously considered putting a sign on the door along the lines of "Go to hell. Will reopen in 30 min," but thought better of it.
I tried, I really tried to keep my cool during the day.
One customer came in with a fax to send, and as I took it, I glanced at the cover sheet and asked, politely, if the number on the cover sheet was the number to which the fax should be sent. "Of course it is," snapped the man, "why do you think the number's there?"
"I'm sorry," I replied, "I had to ask. You see, most people who want pages faxed aren't as cooly logical as you are," (and here, it took a conscious effort not to interject "Mr. Spock"), "and intend to fax the document to some other number, so I always ask to make sure." He gave me that look that said he wasn't sure whether I was trying to be funny or not, but then again, I don't recall attempting to inject any humor in my tone, so perhaps his look was justified.
I finally got the reports done after Brady showed up, and went home about noon to pick up Galina, who took the reports downtown and picked up mail while I returned to the store. After she got back from downtown, I sorted mail until about 3 pm. In the meantime, it was a pretty active day, and there was literally a small mountain of packages to process for FedEx ground, and a healthy number of boxes that were to go UPS. Thank goodness for Brady.
I finally took a break for lunch around 2:30 pm, picking up a take-out for Galina in the process. I went back to sorting mail until about 4:20, when Galina took me home. I lay down to take a nap, from which I woke about a half hour ago, ready to start translating.
I went downstairs to get a box to use as a tray so I could temporarily clear some stuff off my desk (one of the major tactics of my disorganized life) and noticed that the carpet at the bottom of the staircase was soaked (which was not the case yesterday night). A closer look at the shower pan in the downstairs bathroom shows that, apparently, the sewage line from the house has backed up through the downstairs shower, which meant that... omygod! I took a pair of large steps and opened the door to my old office, to find that the carpet inside was wet and that a couple of the boxes of books that were near the door were soaked halfway up the cardboard. I moved them off the wetness but did nothing else for now, as I have to get down and do that translation that's due tomorrow morning.
That pesky translation.
Ten pages.
Lousy image quality.
<\whine>
Galina called our downhill neighbor to take a look at the downstairs. The neighbor has just arrived. Now I need to get out of this "pity party" mood and get to work.
Cheers...
Galina told me that Drew would open the store and do the report and go home, so I would go in to help in the morning, and we'd swap around 10, at which point I'd go translate and she'd be left to work with Brady, our one employee.
It didn't quite work out that way.
<whine>
I guess we'd put the boys on the very edge of burnout (if not over) by abandoning them and going to Houston for a week, because it turned out that a number of things had been left undone at the shop, of which the non-filing of the Q4 sales tax return was the least of my worries. Drew was not there today, would not be, and appeared to stop taking my calls after about the fourth one, so I was left alone until Brady showed up to cope with customers and two reports (Saturday's, and the one from Friday had not been done because Drew was working the store alone on Saturday).
The back computer had gone to sleep and uncharacteristically would not wake up in response to my gentle keytaps and encouraging mouse gestures, so I ended up pulling the plug on it and all the unsaved files that were open at the time. Customers kept me from logging back in for a good hour, at least. Brady called to say he had overslept and would be in 30 minutes late. I seriously considered putting a sign on the door along the lines of "Go to hell. Will reopen in 30 min," but thought better of it.
I tried, I really tried to keep my cool during the day.
One customer came in with a fax to send, and as I took it, I glanced at the cover sheet and asked, politely, if the number on the cover sheet was the number to which the fax should be sent. "Of course it is," snapped the man, "why do you think the number's there?"
"I'm sorry," I replied, "I had to ask. You see, most people who want pages faxed aren't as cooly logical as you are," (and here, it took a conscious effort not to interject "Mr. Spock"), "and intend to fax the document to some other number, so I always ask to make sure." He gave me that look that said he wasn't sure whether I was trying to be funny or not, but then again, I don't recall attempting to inject any humor in my tone, so perhaps his look was justified.
I finally got the reports done after Brady showed up, and went home about noon to pick up Galina, who took the reports downtown and picked up mail while I returned to the store. After she got back from downtown, I sorted mail until about 3 pm. In the meantime, it was a pretty active day, and there was literally a small mountain of packages to process for FedEx ground, and a healthy number of boxes that were to go UPS. Thank goodness for Brady.
I finally took a break for lunch around 2:30 pm, picking up a take-out for Galina in the process. I went back to sorting mail until about 4:20, when Galina took me home. I lay down to take a nap, from which I woke about a half hour ago, ready to start translating.
I went downstairs to get a box to use as a tray so I could temporarily clear some stuff off my desk (one of the major tactics of my disorganized life) and noticed that the carpet at the bottom of the staircase was soaked (which was not the case yesterday night). A closer look at the shower pan in the downstairs bathroom shows that, apparently, the sewage line from the house has backed up through the downstairs shower, which meant that... omygod! I took a pair of large steps and opened the door to my old office, to find that the carpet inside was wet and that a couple of the boxes of books that were near the door were soaked halfway up the cardboard. I moved them off the wetness but did nothing else for now, as I have to get down and do that translation that's due tomorrow morning.
That pesky translation.
Ten pages.
Lousy image quality.
<\whine>
Galina called our downhill neighbor to take a look at the downstairs. The neighbor has just arrived. Now I need to get out of this "pity party" mood and get to work.
Cheers...
