Earnest Beginnings, Fractured Hardware

Today, I had an eye-opening experience. A few of them.

My job is boring. It takes a fraction of my mental capacities and I frequently find myself daydreaming or allowing my mind to wander. To fill in the gaps when I simply cannot look at my next project, I do some writing. On Mondays and Thursdays, I will sometimes outline or write an entire blog entry. The other days, I bug my coworkers who either lack my ability to multitask or actually want to do their work. I suspect the latter.

On other days, I make lists, outlines for writing projects, fill out character sketches, keep a Sanity Diary where I log my random thoughts and obsessions so as not to bother my friends and coworkers, research whatever randomness enters my head, or even write scenes on my next writing project.

And, in case you were wondering, yes, I do eventually get my work done, and I do it well. I get good reviews, occasional spot bonuses (where my bosses shovel money at me for doing what they think is a diligent job), and have had positions actually created for me. I’m good at what I do; it’s just so boring that I find picking my nose to be more mentally stimulating. This is good in a way, because it forces me to find ways to entertain myself. I have outlined many a writing project, written entire chapters, and proofread hundreds of pages over time.

Today I was deep in the middle of a Sanity Diary entry (about my crush on Prince Scientist Charming, of course. We talked today and my lame responses likely told him — finally! — that I’m insufferably shy and that I might actually be interested). I was e-mailing my friend. I was making my Weekly List of things I want to get done this week. I was writing a bit of a document for the current writing project (which I have written all of two pages of). I keep all these non-work projects in a folder on my personal desktop in a business-named folder. The slightest intrusion into this folder would show that its contents have nothing at all to do with what the folder is named for.

I was typing away in the Sanity Diary and making notes about a writing project when something happened. My monitors went dark, then into power save mode. The surge protector was functioning. But my computer refused to power on. I unplugged and plugged it in. I changed the plug to another outlet. Nothing. I got my supervisor and he tried everything I had with no more results. He got the local computer guy who told me that these computers have a history of failing power sources.

They told me to call IT. I talked to a lovely woman in Ireland (who knew we outsourced there?! I’m ready to move!) who told me a story about some girl here in California who had called her talking about how it was 72 degrees and it was sooooo cold that she had to wear a jacket, scarf, and gloves to work. *rolling eyes* In her beautiful Irish accent she told me, “Do you know what we would be doing if it was 72 degrees here? We would be swimming in the Atlantic Ocean. No wet suit! Seventy-two degrees…” She said it like the words were filthy and foul and she couldn’t wait to spit them from her mouth. I cackled until my face was red. I told her that being cold at 72 degrees was remarkably dramatic for anyone who was not born in the belly of a volcano or on the planet Venus.

They called in a work order for my computer. Then I started to think. My Sanity Diary is on that thing. Not all my thoughts are work appropriate. Some of my writing is on there, and that is definitely not work appropriate (the swearing alone…). My convoluted thoughts on Prince Scientist are on there! My outlines on Elizabeth Bathory and Vlad the Impaler are on there, research I did for a project I set aside. I had a tarot card reading done which I documented in the Sanity Diary.

I’ve worked there for a billion years. I have never been worried like I am at the moment. They tell me that they can simply put a new power source in there and the computer will be returned to me…so I can clean the fucker out. There should be no need for them to go through the contents of the computer. I don’t have a virus; I know that. But what if?

In two business days I will know the fate of all that work, all those musings, all that dangerous, seemingly psychopathic research. I will know if I need to explain, or if I need to pack.

But I had good work on there, good research, good character profiles, good current work. I was writing…and now it may be gone. Or being read by a very bored (and soon to be very shocked) IT person. Lucky for me, my boss and his boss and his boss seem to think highly of me. I might be able to play on their good will.

Or at least get my goddamned stuff back.


~ by Darren Endymion on December 15, 2014.

2 Responses to “Earnest Beginnings, Fractured Hardware”

  1. Crossing my fingers for you that they don’t find it!
    But if they do – well, then I guess t was meant to be, and they’ll just know you a little better (and probably like you even more when they see your deeper self!)

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