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Mst-Chief I'm your favorite person, you just don't know it yet

mst



Last Updated: 7/8/2009

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Gender: Female
Status: In a Relationship
Age: 28
Sign: Gemini

Signup Date: 7/1/2006

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Thursday, August 27, 2009 

Category: Life

I had just finished explaining the model we had designed to facilitate the outsourcing of correspondence generation, something that would potentially save the company over $350k a year. The model includes;

 
  • Reviewing the current data load mapping and upload process
  • Ensuring issues are addressed that they are addressed and rectified before outsourcing can occur.
  • Checking all calculations are current, effective, and maintain their integrity through the load process

 

The response was not warm.

 

“I’m telling you that it won’t work. I won’t support the outsourcing of our correspondence module”

 

I sat at the end of the meeting room table where the voice inside my head is screaming “because you don’t like effing change!” and resisting the urge to throw the wireless mouse in her general direction. Once composed, I pressed on with the knowledge sharing exercise.

 

“What is the major concern that you have with outsourcing correspondence?”

 

“Everything needs checking” the stare was steady and unwavering.

 

“Why does everything need checking?”

 

“Because I need confidence that the member will receive the right information”

 

“And we can’t achieve this by fixing the problems that we know we have before we outsource?”

 

“No”

 

“Because….” God this was like pulling teeth

 

“Because every letter is unique”

 

“Every letter? But we have standard templates”

 

“And we edit every single one”

 

“Why?”

 

“So we know they’re correct”

 

I paused, and rephrased “How do you know that they are incorrect? And why are they incorrect?”

 

“We check them against the member accounts to make sure the right fees and calculations have come across in the data load”

 

“So the data load is wrong?”

 

“Yes. And each calculation is unique, so we have to manually check them all”

 

“There aren’t standard parameters for the calculations?”

 

“Well yes, but they’re percentage based, so each one is different”

 

“But the same rules apply to each calculation?”

 

“Erm. Yes.”

 

“So they could be programmed and put into business rules so they can be applied automatically?”

 

“I suppose”

 

“And the other data discrepancy is a result of the data load being wrong?”

 

“Correct”

 

“So if we did this…” I scrolled back to the presentation slide that said

 
  • Reviewing the current data load mapping and upload process
  • Ensuring issues are addressed that they are addressed and rectified before outsourcing can occur.
  • Checking all calculations are current, effective, and maintain their integrity through the load process

 

“Then we could fix the problems?”

 

There was a pregnant pause, by the end of which the tops of her ears where decisively pink.

 

“I don’t want to outsource”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I need to check everything”

 

“Why do YOU need to check everything?”

 

Another pregnant pause, met by a defeated sigh, and the comment “Because I’m a control freak and I want to be indispensable”

 

I smiled to myself, on the inside, and the smell of victory drifted into my nostrils.

Monday, August 17, 2009 

Category: Life
Today I ventured to the mini mall near work on my lunch break.

I needed some new trainers, the Nike ones I have are three years old and are getting that stinky gym shoe phase where even though you wash them, there is always that slight hint of Au De Stinkie Foote (and yes that IS how the pronounce it in France. Honest)

Now I'm not always necessarily into brand names, and trainers are no exception.

So I engaged in conversation with the shop assistant, or was he a sales man? Who can tell the difference these days in our world of multi skilling? I discovered the ones I wanted he didn't have in my size. That's ok, I decided to try on my second preference. 

I took them out of the box. 

I unpacked the paper stuffed inside them to keep their shape. 

I loosened the laces. 

I put them on myself, and gauged how they felt. 

And the shop assistant / sales assistant finally decided to do his job and asked 'how do they fit'. 

I thought it was your job to tell me that? 

I remember (Granny Mode Is Now On) when I used to go to the shoe shop in the 80s and early  90s, where they had these things; 


 

You used to put your foot your foot in the strap and they would tighten it to tell the width, and they would move the slidy things back and forward to get the length. 

Then they would ask you what style you wanted. 

and they would come back with an assortment of items that met your needs; 


 

Then, they un box them for you. 

They let you put them on, then they check that it fits for themselved. 

They check were your big toe is. 

They check if width is too tight. 

They stick their finder down the back of the shoe to make sure there's growth room. 

What happened to this? 

What happened to the customer service?

Did we really decide somewhere along the line that we wanted to encounter sales people who only care about meeting targets and getting the bonuses and not people who know how to fit feet?

And don't even get me started on the rude girl at the register.

There's just no personal experience anymore, because apparently, we don't want that.

There are now self serve check outs at the supermarket - which I actually find really convenient if I'm carrying 10 items or less, but get really fucked off with people who pull up with a trolley full of shopping and take FOREVER to scan everything themselves!

Maybe I'm just shopping in the wrong store. 

Maybe I'm getting cynical in my 'old' age. 

Maybe I can go on Grumpy Not Even 30 Yet Women?
 
Sunday, August 16, 2009 

 

Jess has been with us since february.

She is well and truly part of the family.

However, it wasn't until the other day that I realised she had become almost like a child to me.

I say me because I know Paul sees her as a dog.

A dog that he loves very much, but a dog none the less.

Me?

Oh there's baby talk.

And pyjamas, just incase she gets cold while she sleeps.

Occasionally she gets to sleep on the bed with us. She starts at the foot of the bed, and by the time we've woken up in the morning she has subtly and stealthly worked her way up the bed to be laying inbetween us, back legs stretched out behind her.

It's happened, she's my kid.

Seeing as though my parents think I'm never going to have children, I figure this might not be such a bad thing.

She doesn't need to go to high school or college.

She wont want a car when she reaches 16.

She wont want us to pay for a wedding when she meets the man of her dreams.

She wont be eyeing off any family jewellery to be left to her in the will.

And she doesnt want the latest gadgets and fashion items.

I say, if I  had to choose between kids and a dog, I'd go the dog any day.

Unconditional love, always happy to see you and please you. Will play for food and affectioin, and only makes a mess outside.

Yes, it's happened.

She is, the Substitute.

Tuesday, July 07, 2009 

Category: Writing and Poetry
everything about the way he walked into the room spoke to her.

The confidence in his shoulders

The relaxed and natural movement of his muscels

The keen way that he scanned the room side to side, without making it obvious he was looking for bait.

Fun bait.

But bait non the less.

She watched him from the shadow of her corner table, her face not quite lit by the low levels of day light, and her newly glossed lips pursed in anticipation of his arrival. She wondered if anyone else felt it too. If it was all just part of his magic, that in trying to put people at ease, he made them fall for him.

Had she fallen for him? Only on Fridays. Only right now, at this moment.

He knew she was there, she was always there, but she knew they had to play this game of non existence with each other.

As he began to speak to some of the others in his friendly non authorative tone she envied them. She wanted his attention, just for a moment. Just long enough to say what she wanted to, without words. His conversation travelled from one to the next, the same line of causal chit chat greated with the same standard responses.

Everyone new everyone here, it was the nature of the institution.  

He removed his tailored jacket and placed it on the back of a chair, flicking his thick dark hair of his eyes as he lifted his head, and looking in her direction. He noticed her, lurking in the shadows. Reclined sideways in her seat, back against the wall, arm slung over the back of chair, legs crossed to the right. He nodded and smiled, she reciprocated, her heart quickening in her chest at his acknowledgement.

He approached her, the rest of the room going on about their conversation like they were the only people in the room, oblivious to his attentions being set upon her. She sifted in her seat, leaning forward, anticipating his deep low tones that she savoured, every friday.

"Hi Felicia"

"Hey" she flashed him a wide bright smile. She wasn't sure he noticed. 

"Good essay, a little room for improvement though, easpecially at year 12 level. How about you meet me after class for some pointers. Ok?"

"Yes. Sure. Thank you Sir"

She smiled to herself, tilting her head to the side slightly as he walked away, taking a mental picture to be stored with the countless others in deep recesses of her immagination.


Tuesday, June 23, 2009 

Category: Life
Tonight I have a meeting with the head of department at my local college so that we can discuss the ins and outs of the Advanced Business Management Diploma.
 
That’s right folks, I’m going back to school.
 
And given my ability to juggle just about everything providing the correct offset measure of regular alcohol is provided for, I’ll continue to work full time as well.
 
I’m sure it’s not that hard, heaps of people do it, besides, the time felt right, so why not?
 
The campus is a five minute drive from my house, and most classes would be on an evening. There are a few workshop days in there as well, that I can accommodate through the RDO scheme I have at work.
 
I have decided that there are definite advantages of going back to school; the first is the student card. I’ll get cheaper bus tickets, and because I bus it into work each day, that’s a big plus.
 
The second is it’ll keep me feeling youthful, because at the ripe old age of 28, I need all the help I can get (Yes that was sarcasm)
 
The third is this; I’m hoping that my metabolism reverts back to its former student glory, whereby I could eat anything I wanted and still look good and not put on weight.
 
Wishful thinking? Most certainly, but everyone is entitled to a wish.
 
Or three, depending on which lamp you rub.
 
Who ever came up with the concept of genies?
 
Never Mind, totally off topic…..
 
The diploma will hopefully help me progress work wise, I also want to add on some additional modules in finance and accounting so that maybe, one day, between the two of us we’ll be well equip to run our own business.
 
They (who ever ‘they’ are) say knowledge is power… and I want all the power I can get.