(Warning: Major
Spoiler Alert towards the end re: Dan Brown’s “Origin”)
Lately, I feel like I am being driven slowly
insane by a continuous game of Consumer Roulette—not in my personal life for
once, where I expect chaos, but in the orderly, well-oiled machine of my job,
which I have worked very hard to forge into said orderly, well-oiled machine.
Although I work in a very large organization, I run a one-woman shop within it,
and I like things ship-shape: My deadlines met, my e-mails returned, and my promises
delivered on. But my credo of “Deliver the Goods” has been challenged lately
due to what appears to be a complete breakdown of the office supply store
social contract. You see, I recently took on something of an extra-curricular
project that requires a large number of photo frames. My strategy was to order
a few frames in different styles and finishes, and decide which one would work
best before placing the large order. Upon unpacking the first delivery from
Anonymous Gargantuan Office Supply Store, I was puzzled to find a solid block
of wood accompanied by a flimsy sheet of laminate and some dodgy-looking “wood
tacks.” Upon inspecting it further, it turned out to be what I can only define as
a mounting block—a far cry from the picture frame that I was certain I ordered.
I placed a second order for what I also thought was a picture frame, and received
yet another mounting block, although this time they did honor my request for
mahogany wood.
Upon the third order, it was clear they weren’t
even trying anymore—they sent me a glass display box with a white painted
frame, which was decidedly not the walnut wood picture frame that I had actually placed the order for. I finally hopped
on with Customer Support live chat, and found myself desperately trying to
explain to the poor person on the other end that I needed a picture frame, for an 8x10 photo, one
where you slide the little velvet-covered back off and put the picture in it and put the velvet thing back on--you
know, like what you would put your kid’s pictures in? That was maddeningly unproductive.
I politely disconnected and slumped at my desk, head in hands. Words used to
have meaning. I don’t know what is going on with AGOSS, but I suspect it probably
got too hard to locate the actual products I was ordering, so they just starting
throwing similar-ish things into boxes, figuring they were “close enough.” They’re
not close enough, AGOSS. They’re not. I am now waiting on yet another frame,
which is, you guessed it, on backorder.
The other thing I am having trouble with is
paper. I run an event for work every year, which is the functional equivalent of
putting on a wedding, and I have to start the planning a minimum of eight months
out. Everyone thinks I’m crazy, but here’s just one example of why I need eight
months lead time: For next year’s event, I need a certain grade and shade of fancy
paper for the program inserts. I am a bit of a paper snob, and I don’t want to
use cheap colored copy paper. Details are important to me, and I take pride in
having beautiful programs. After an extensive and disappointing search across
not one, but two AGOSS’s, several art stores, as well as a general internet
search, I finally found a product that met my criteria. When I went to place
the order, I was crestfallen to find that it had been discontinued. After going
back to the drawing board for yet another maddening round of Find the Paper, I
came across something not as good, but workable. And of course, it’s
backordered. I have a sneaking suspicion that it’s going to be straight-up
discontinued, though. I’ve started to feel like Patty Simcox in “Grease” when she screams “I don’t know what’s happening!” Meanwhile,
the non-event planners in my life just shrug and say “What are you so worried
about? It’s, like, four months away,” while I am struck with event-planner
panic at the thought that it’s four
months away--and I still don't have program insert paper!
My office products aren’t the only thing on
backorder—so is my sense of personal ambition. With darkness falling at 4:15 in
the afternoon these days, getting dressed on the weekends seems like a foolish
waste of energy, and spending four hours in the evenings curled up on the couch
reading a middling novel feels like a perfectly legitimate use of time. In case
you’re wondering what the middling novel I refer to is, it’s “Origin” by Dan
Brown. MAJOR SPOILER ALERT:
The Artificial Intelligence did it. All of it. The assassination, the framing,
the murders, the set-ups, the lies. And he didn’t feel the least
bad about it, either. AI wasn’t one of those things I had the emotional
bandwidth to worry much about before I read this novel, but now I am legit
terrified of it. Thanks, Dan Brown!
I don’t know about you, but I could use a good
old fashioned dance party about now:
--Kristen McHenry
No comments:
Post a Comment