Bank On It

March 13, 2009 at 11:15 PM | Posted in The Corporate World | Leave a comment
  Stuff is happening at the bank, too.
  We are busy, busy, busy.  At least in our department.  Rates are low, so people are refinancing like it’s going out of style.  Ironically, of course, it just may do that.  We hired back the one guy that got laid off about 9 months ago, and hired another guy as well.  That’s just in my group; as far as the whole department goes, I see many new faces.
  The guy we re-hired…I have no idea what he does, if anything.  I don’t see him working.  I see him sitting at his computer, with a scanner.  Is is it running?  I don’t really know.  I remember he wasn’t doing shit before, and that was the reason HE was chosen when layoffs came around.  Now that they hired him back, is he back to doing nothing? 
  This other guy we hired, the one who is actually working, is also a pain in my ass.  First of all, his dad is a loan officer–they are treated like royalty around here.  I guess Little Shine thinks the privilege extends to him as well.  And I guess it does; he could complain to his father about something, and then it would get back to my boss’s boss.
 
  And I was interrupted just now–by him–about some ridiculous shit having to do with the scanner he uses.  If you recall (and you will be tested on this later) I am the "Peripheral Support Liaison."  That’s the title I made up.  When there’s a problem with a machine, people come to me.  Our service vendors like to have as few contact people as possible.  On this floor, I am the man.  I have 12 scanners, 8 copy machines, 5 fax machines, and 37 printers.  And dozens of impatient bitches if there is a problem with one of them.
  We have problems every other day with one copier or another.  Occasionally we have a problem with one of the high-speed scanners, of which we have 7.  Actually 8, but one is in the back room for parts.  The FNG runs a scanner, scanning for the girls in shipping to free up their time doing…whatever the hell it is that they do.
  He had a problem with the scanner squeaking.  *Really*.  I deal with real problems.  The copier jams, or the jam won’t clear, or the top feeder won’t feed, or the paper sensor guide is out of alignment, or things like that.  You want me to call 9-11 because what?  The scanner "squeaks."  "What?"
  "It squeaks."
  "I don’t hear it."
  I called the tech.  They didn’t come out right away because–surprise!–we aren’t the last corporation on the planet.  They’re busy.  They usually get to us pretty quickly, however, but they didn’t come out that day.  The next morning he (the FNG) is on me to call them again.  I already did.
  "Today?"
  "No, yesterday."
  "You should call them today."  A not-too-subtle attempt to control me.
  "Why?  The information hasn’t changed.  The need hasn’t changed.  They said they would be out today.  I believe them.  You should too."  I put my headphones back on while he was responding and turned my attention back to my work. 
  The tech did come out that day and looked at it.  It had a burned out clutch.  Some people you can’t give too much information to, because they want to manipulate the situation.  This guy (the FNG in question) is a sales rep at heart, because he always wants other people to do things for him.
  (To any sales reps or brokers out there that might be offended, I apologize for not being clearer about this:  I really do think you are scum.  You are users of people.  All you care about is eliminating inconvenience to yourself, no matter how much it inconveniences other people.  Do you understand now?)
  The tech said they had one in Mt Vernon (IL), and there was some one there on a call, so we should be able to get the part easily.  He should have added, "But not today."  If you don’t spell it out, they are going to assume.  The FNG doesn’t care that it’s late in the afternoon, and that Mt Vernon is about 3 hours away, and that the guy is not going to rush right up here with your part after business hours on a Friday.
  Besides, FNG has three OTHER scanners he can use.  Go use them.  But, Monday the guy doesn’t come in with the part.  FNG is bugging me about it.  "You should give them a call about it."
  "Has the situation changed at all?"
  "They said they would be out and they aren’t here yet."  Fucking impatient child.  I called, and the part is in transit still.  He didn’t understand.  "They said they would bring it right up from Mt Vernon."
  Since I live in the real world, I understand that shit happens, which I try to explain to him.  But he–look, I can read people–he obviously comes from a tiny bit of wealth and is used to getting his way.
  Of course, the problem is, since he comes to me bitching about the equipment so much, I don’t do anything about it, which makes him think I’m no good at my job.  He has no clue that the problem is in fact him; that’s how conceit works.
  I get along well with all the techs, and the service manager.  This relationship is important, because sugar works better than vinegar if you want your shit to work.  If FNG was in charge of it, he would be calling them constantly, bitching about them to their bosses, making unreasonable demands and wondering why, the next time our contract comes up, the price is increased.
  Today, I had someone coming in to fix a copier issue.  When he got here, FNG wanted me to have him look at his scanner.  Because after it had been fixed–clutch replaced–it was still having the initial problem, which is, it squeaked.  Bummer.  If your hearing was as bad as mine, it wouldn’t be a problem.  I said, that’s not how it works.  Because it isn’t.  The guy here works on copiers, knows nothing about scanners.
  Can you call on the scanner?  I did, yesterday.  I think you should call them again.  As if what he says carries *ANY* weight with me whatsoever.  It’s fine line between quiet vindictiveness and passive-aggressive stalling.
  I put my headphones on again.  In less than ten minutes, the tech shows up to work on his scanner…So, hahaha, bastard.  I just had the thought that when he goes out to eat somewhere and there is a wait, he is the one bitching and raising a fuss even when *THEY TELL HIM THERE IS A WAIT*.  Because this doesn’t apply to him. 
  I guess I have worked in the service industry too long, because I am pretty forgiving.  This translates to all services.  No really.  You all may not believe that, I know.  You read this and think I bitch about pretty much everything.  That’s not (necessarily) true.  When I am at work, I know that people don’t understand what I am doing or something takes too long.  As long as they know I am busy, I am working, and I am trying, then they are okay.  If I have to wait, I understand if they are busy.  I understand.  I know there are things I don’t understand about how their business works, so I will give them the benefit of the doubt.  Always.
  Finally the tech fixes the squeak.  Kind of a metaphor, I suppose:  The squeaky, annoying dickhead gets all the attention.  And now IT is moving the scanner in question over here by me.  Dickhead FNG is going to be over here by me.  Yet again, yay.
  The way he acts reminds me of the PHB (pointy haired boss) on Dilbert.  The applicable quote:  "Logically, anything I don’t understand is easy to do."
  I thought all the young girls over here were fawning over him, but maybe not.  He is a young, clean-cut, well-dressed guy.  Perhaps TOO well-dressed.  I was chatting with Peggy-Ann, and we heard a phone ring.  FNG got up and walked out of the open-air cubicle (I prefer to think of them more as beergartens) talking to himself.  Yeah, he has a–wait, no he doesn’t have a Bluetooth.  His headset is connected to his phone by a wire.  How 2007.
  But his phone rang, and it was an odd tone I didn’t recognize.  I said, "What was that?"
  Peggy nodded her head towards the leaving FNG.  In a low voice she said, "That was ‘Metro.’"  As in, Metrosexual.  I don’t think she meant it as a compliment.  Mr Fancy-pants FNG is a little too prissy for these working-class chicks who have already seen all kinds of bullshit.
  Do I sound petty?  I never said I wasn’t, brother.
  I think the long and short of it is, it bugs me that because of who is dad is, he’s going to get fast-tracked to a higher paying job.  Christ, he could end up being my boss.  That is *NOT* an honorable way to die.
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