A while back a new position was created; something about handling a data-base of previously published material. I don't know details, it involves the only PC in our whole building and a mainframe across the street. A very nice lady from Abbotsford won the competition for the job; we were a bit worried at first about a bureaucrat joining our freak-show, but she fit on quite nicely. Too bad she applied for another job so left after a short while.
The replacement is some other paper-pusher from the suburbs and she does not fit in AT ALL. First of all she totally keeps to herself, doesn't say "hi" in the morning and doesn't chat with any of us. Secondly she doesn't understand that we are all about deadlines, giving Jason a heart attack when he asked from some data; telling him to expect it in a few weeks. He can't understand that because the girl before was able to do it the same day, so he is trying to impress her with the urgency.
After Years of Practice, Coworkers Become Professionals at Avoiding Work
He's treated to the same irritating song & dance Donna always gives, "That means I have to do x y & z, then I have to blah blah blah etc. etc." Petra always says, "What the hell Donna . . . that's your job." If we all sat around explaining to everyone what procedures we had to go through to do our work we'd never get anything done. No wonder it takes weeks around here to do something a normal person can do in a few hours.
Fiona and the guys in the shop have taken to calling her The Stick, because they don't like her and because she is so tall and thin.
Jason can't get anywhere so he's gone to Jack and explained the situation. I'm listening to all this with radar ears; I've been relishing no longer being the newest person here, and watching someone else go through the pains of settling in is giving me not a small amount of glee. Jack waddles over to The Stick, asking about Jason's project.
"Yes he just asked me for that. I'll have it for him in a few weeks."
"What do you mean, it doesn't take that long? He needs it right away."
The Stick replies in irritation, "Well, I have to do x y & z, then I have to blah blah blah etc etc." She turns away from Jack as if that was the end of it.
What is it about this place . . . people are like professional slackers or something.
"What is it that you are doing right now?" Jack is starting to sweat. Our deadlines are not to be toyed with; they have an impact on a lot of other departments and particularly outside the company. If Jason says he needs something today then he certainly must.
The Stick almost breaks her neck snapping her head back towards Jack. Clearly her attitude is: "Are you still standing here??" but she doesn't respond, she's completely dumbfounded at the question.
"What are you working on right now that is preventing you from getting this information from Jason?" Jack struggles to remain civil.
She describes some maintenance and administrative work, all of which can wait until she does what Jason has asked. Which is what Jack tells her; to do that later. As he walks back to his office I sneak a glance in their direction; Jack looks completely pained - he's been stuck with these kinds of non-workers before and knows it's almost impossible to get rid of them - but the look of complete rage on The Stick's face really catches my attention. If she could shoot daggers from her eyes into Jack's back I'm sure she would do so! She notices Petra and I staring at her aghast and quickly turns back to her computer.
Such a display of laziness and lack of co-operation really captures my interest. In my time here I have dealt with a lot of completely useless, in fact detrimental, people from the main building. Like the one time I needed an Excel file from a particular department; they sent me over a blank disc. Not once, but TWICE. Each time it took an entire day in the interoffice mail because the mail room does not like to deliver over to us more often than that. So they set me back three days in my project; when I called the second time to tell them the disc was blank AGAIN I allowed my opinion of their work ethic leak through the phone. They did not seem in the least bit perturbed; blandly replying that they would send it over once more. In fact, it didn't even seem like anything special to them that they should make such a basic blunder not once, but twice!
I have to paste together a proof. Using the waxer on the layout table gives me a perfect view over The Stick's shoulder to her computer screen. I really need to know what she is doing all day, since she is clearly not working. I am astounded to see that she is simply opening and closing windows. Seriously, she isn't DOING anything, she's just bringing up one window after another then closing them all. It's so mind-boggling that when Adam comes out of the shop I call him over.
Professional Work Avoidence Honed to a Highly Skilled Level
He stands beside me looking at the proof I am holding, obviously thinking I am going to say something about it.
I mutter under my breath, "Look at what's she doing! She's not doing anything she's just opening and closing windows." I point towards The Stick with the papers in my hand then return to my desk.
Adam looks at me like I am insane. I'm not usually a gossiper and he can't quite figure out what I am getting at. But he keeps standing in the same spot and does look over The Stick's shoulder at her screen. I can see by her reaction that he notices the same procedure that I did. I shuffle my papers loudly; he looks at me in complete amazement then keeps staring over at The Stick. This goes on for so long that she must begin to sense his presence and glances backward over her shoulder. Again she has a look that could kill on her face. What an unpleasant person. Adam coughs and leaves the room, not without looking over at me and rolling his eyes.
Professional Work Avoiders Are Never Punished
Foolishly I expect some kind of reprimand to take place; I understand that we are union members and are protected in our jobs but I also think it is within the right of an employer to chastise staff for deliberately not working. I guess they've all been here for so long and know all the ropes that they know pursuing it would be pointless. So basically those that have a non-work attitude get away with it, everyone else does what they can but it takes forever to get anything done.
I have taken a great dislike to The Stick (without stooping to actually calling her that) and try to ignore her as much as possible. She never tries to talk to any of us anyways so it's pretty easy. We laugh at her even more now actually, because she said she found the air in the layout room "thick" and got a safety officer from across the street to take measurements. Another stupid fucken waste of time which I found so preposterous that when he was setting up the gear I found an excuse to walk over there and said, "The only place that creates fumes in here is the shop, so shouldn't you set that up in there? I mean that's where they use the solvents to clean down the press."
The Stick looks at me sharply; am I trying to take away her excuse for not working this time? I ignore her. The safety officer replies tiredly, "The odor was reported here, and you never know where the fumes can go . . . in the vents and stuff. . . " Lamely he indicates the nearest vent. We all know this building is within code; when the print shop was brought over here from the main building years ago everything was tested and approved.
If All Else Fails, Call in an Environmental Assessment
The Stick works for a few days with the meter on her desk, flashing red and green lights intermittently. I am so bugged by this because now she wasting not only her own time but that of other staff. When the safety officer comes back to collect his meter he is careful to show her that the air is well within safety levels then exits as quickly as he can. I chuckle under my breath.
Petra isn't here today so it's just me with The Stick across the room like a little black hole of uselessness. I ignore her, just play my radio and work quietly. At ten in the morning I suddenly hear the sound of a shower. Apart from male and female washrooms we are provided with male and female showers, because they have the in the main building next to the gym and we have to have all the amenities that other staff do.
I assume it's the men's shower because that's the only one that gets used; the guys in the shop go jogging together at lunch time. My jaw drops when I see that it is in fact the female shower, and that The Stick is not at her desk. I'm just fuming; this is really too much! I can barely work as I let myself get all really annoyed by this, especially when the shower goes on for 20 minutes. What the hell is she doing in there? Once the water stops it another eternity before she emerges, wet hair and all.
I really want to shout something across the room but hold my tongue. Petra's not here to run interferance so I'd better be cautious in what I do. Shower smell permeates the layout room. You know, that damp, strongly perfumed air that can only come from a shampoo-conditioner combo. Just then Jack comes out of the shop; he's hit full in the face with the scent and immediately looks over at The Stick's wet hair. This time I'm not trying to hide my attention; I'm not even pretending that I'm looking. Jack turns to see me staring at him, makes a "Huh, that's weird" face and goes into his office.
Nothing happens, as I'm sure The Stick knew it would not.
I'm super-pissed, if I had known that I could take a lazy shower in the middle of the work day and generally avoid doing my job as much as possible with no repercussions I certainly wouldn't have been working as hard as I have been for the past couple of years.
