i could just cry

EG is away on holiday this week and part of next.

Left us doing the report - weeks behind schedule.

The Boss threw all the stuff at me the other day and told me to coordinate design.

“Fine,” I thought. “No problem.”

Except EG didn’t leave the data for graphs and tables to be inserted into the report and The Boss, because he didn’t bother to actually look at it properly, didn’t know.

This morning he barks that I need to chase design.

I dutifully do.

Design informs me that there is no way we will get draft 1 today. Will definitely require the weekend to generate all the graphs - oh, and how will design do that without the data?

Without data? Huh?

And design is absolutely right. No fucking data.

STUPID EG.

How does she honestly expect tables, pie charts and graphs to be drawn up without any figures?

Right, I have to hunt through her file to find all the raw data, make sense of what I am looking at, extract the relevant bits and get them over to design.

Except STUPID EG doesn’t save ANY of her work on the shared drive that we all have access to. No, EG saves everything on her computer. Her hard drive. The drive that only she can get to.

So, I have to wait for IT Guru to come in and log into EG’s machine.

Finally, I am in.

And then, guess what? It’s another case of, all together now: STUPID EG!

For some reason, EG is lacking a filing system. Full stop. Everything is just scattered around her desktop. Mindless.

Eventually I find what I am looking for. All 15,000 files of it.

Except none of these files seem to have any data in either.

LOADS of graphs and bar charts that have been drawn up elsewhere and then copied and pasted into Excel sheets, but NO FUCKING FIGURES.

(All together again) STUPID EG!

Let’s make that STUPID FUCKING EG, shall we?

So, I have done as good as I can with what there is, but the remainder of this morning and much of the afternoon will see me pouring over charts and bits of paper trying to work out what the HELL the numbers are and then, totally inefficiently, putting them into tables.

For FUCK’s SAKE.

I. HATE. MY. JOB. AND. THE. CRETINS. I. HAVE. TO. WORK. WITH.

(Although they clearly think I am a fucking miracle worker or something).

It was always going to be a shit day. I knew it when I saw a woman dragging her wheelie suitcase down the stairs at Clapham Junction - the two worst aspects of commuter hell in one place at the same moment. I really thought I was going to die. It was always going to be a shit day.