Must... Control... Fist... of Death...

[catsidhe]

Thomas: Mr Sparkles! Come here, I have a job for you.
(30 seconds later...)
Thomas: Mr Sparkles! I have a job for you.
(2 minutes later...)
Thomas: Mr Sparkles! I have a job for you. How is job[1] coming along?
Repeat another three or four times...


AAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh! Fuck off for ten fucking minutes and let me finish just ONE of the jobs you have pre-emptively set me you motherfucking son-of-a-bitch!


Thomas asked if he had "stomped on me" too hard.

I refrained from swearing at him. I am proud of my self-control.

I replied that it was not the force of the "stomp" which was getting to me, but the repeated kicking while I was down.

Let's see if memory serves:
$job[0] = move boxes out of the fishbowl (where we set up new servers and such) so that they would be collected by the cleaners.
$job[1] = move a monitor down to a lab where one machine was missing its monitor because it was away on repair. Pity the monitor I had taken from the sixth floor to the first turned out to be faulty itself.
$job[2] = remove old servers and associated equipment from a rack into storage. Never mind that I was trying to help an academic at the time. Thomas takes precedence.
$job[3] = Log a service call on the faulty monitor. Detailed instructions on how I should log this in the inventory spreadsheet were supplied. Gee, it would have been nice if I could have mounted that network drive on the first try. I ended up having to screw around with /etc/fstab. While I was fighting this,
$job[4] = Oh, throw out the keyboards with the old chunky connectors. That involved sorting through an unstable pile of ~100 old keyboards, including PS2, serial, console, Sun and Mac keyboards.
$job[5] = Somewhere in this cupboard is a hard drive enclosure with an 18Gb drive. We would like to recycle it. Find it. (This involves opening up half a dozen various enclosures, some of which seem to have been designed by Mr Rubik.) By this time it was lunchtime.

Oh, and how was I going with $job[3]? Well, not good. I have been trying to open the spreadsheet so I could start. Well, says Thomas, if you would stop reading Slashdot, then...

I refused to dignify his "little joke".

Comments

[tooticky.livejournal.com]

Hm. One job at a time. It doesn't sound like too big an ask, does it? If he stopped to think, or if it was explained to him, he would probably realise it. Perhaps you can offer him an opportunity to think twice?
Please don't go postal- Abby needs a father!
Maybe that transfer is the way to go.