It is mid july, and the new job postings for educators have been released.  This is important, as I am attemtping to become a teacher.  In mathematics, not english, so please don’t groan over my spelling, sentence structure, and flagrant disregard to the health of the poor comma.

July is important for one thing, and one thing only.  This is when they tell you what positions are open and are willing to start taking applications for the positions.  From then, you start work in August.  September, the kids come in, and December you get the holidays for the nervous breakdown.  February, you get to make fun of all the popular girls that get lots of valentines day by hosting sex ed, specializing in veneral diseases, the horrors of pregnancy, and what happens when you waste your life with your high school crush instead of getting an actual education.  For the guys, I’d just tell them how their life would become a living hell if they don’t use protection.  I think it would be fun to use powerpoint for this.  So yeah…I’ll be in math.

So now I know what positions are open, and got the applications.  One was 3 pages…another was 13, and another 16.  Add in copies of my transcripts from my multitude of colleges, letters of reccomendation, resumes, past work experiences…the packets I sent out weighed more individually then all the junk mail I get in a month.

 I should know in a week or so if I get an interview with some of them.  Considering some of the letters of reccomendation, I should…actually, some of the letters would nominate me for sainthood.  I wanted to go back and ask one of the letter writers to tone it down…apparently you can go to hell for lying, and I wanted to spare her even being considered for burninghood.

 But yeesh…16 pages?  I suppose it is a test…if you can handle the application, you can handle the kids…

Everyone knows we just installed a new OS for our ordering system at work.  Everyone at work knows to call when there are problems.  Everyone that calls me gets to hear how I’m just in charge of the bakery shipping department, not in tech support.  Then, out of spite, I fix the problem.

Funny thing is, it’s because I have mild OCD and a slightly poor impulse control that I can do this.  You know…see a button, press the button.  Then press the other one.  Then press both.  Then put out the fire, and call security to let them know you need yet another fire extinguisher.

Basically, I sat there and asked “What happens if we do this?”  “Why would you do that?”  “Why wouldn’t I?”  “No-one would ever do that.”  “I just did that.”  “Errr…”  “Get back to coding…I just erased your data files.”  I did this until I stopped breaking things, and yes, I DID erase some data files.  Great fun…thank goodness for backups.

One thing we did with the new system, though, was to run EVERYONE through the training program to teach them how to use the new system.  It is incredibly simple, actually.  Problem is, they got VERY security conscious.  The people in charge didn’t want anyone to be able to do anything, except for a few things.  I, of course, despite not being a supervisor and only in charge of a bloody shipping department have full access to everything.

So we were sitting there in class, in training, and next to me is the VP in charge of the whatever the heck they are calling the department I am working in this year.  We go through department heads like nothing…and acronyms.  Are we CWC?  CWHPI?  CWF?  CWHC?  Still, the VP is in charge, and despite the way he’ll never ever see the system ever again, he was in training, and he asked a simple, logical, and above all actually intelligent question.  He’s the only VP I’ve seen ask one of these.  Usually it is along the lines of “but if you had two mice, you could do twice the work?” when relating to a program that is text only…no mice.  Not this guy, though.  He was competant enough I enjoyed working with him…and didn’t check my e-mail once pretending I was running a data array to cross reference yadda.  He even managed to turn his computer on without help.

If you think I’m kidding, I’ve actually had upper management call me to ask me how to open the attachment I just sent them in e-mail.

The question was about security.  He wanted to know if one department could do something to the other department with transfers.  Quick answer…no.  Long answer…took over 20 minutes.  Still no.

 Meanwhile, the CORRECT answer was “Lets try it.  Hmmm…nope, doesn’t seem to work.  Ok, lets get back to class!”

 Still, I had a very pleasent conversation with the other instructor after we had ascertained that it wouldn’t work.  She used to work in a brewery.

Ah well…time to practice my happy face for when I’ll have to field a phone call from someone told repeatedly that we are using a new system, and the reason that she isn’t receiveing her product is because she is STILL using the old one, despite several attempts to get her to stop.

The button I press there is “mute”, to be administered as needed to prevent an interdepartmental incident.

A couple weeks ago, I lost my cat to kidney failure.  This was actually expected…he had been diabetic for years.  I sleep easy knowing I’d given him a happy, loving (the dog) place to live, a few years longer then he would have normally.  I loved him too…but mostly the dog.

 I don’t mention this for sympathy, because to tell the truth, I don’t want any.  I mention this because I have to explain why I got a new cat.  I was available for one.  See, I have some friends.  She decided to divorce him…they had two cats.  She kept one, he couldn’t keep the other since he’s a long haul driver (which is not why they divorced).  Since I already knew the cat, and was already one of her favorite people, they asked if I could take her.  Three days after my own cat passed away, I picked up the new one.

Didn’t have any trouble with her.  Not even any emotional pangs.  Part of it was I was doing something good for several people, and part of it because I already knew, liked, and had already volunteered to give her a good home with me, where we could make plastic canvas projects together.  Not to mention for the first two weeks, she hid under the bed.  Came out to eat, drink, and other biological functions, but she was easy to care for.

Then…horror or horrors, she came out and immediately decided to pick up our relationship where we left off.  Frequent ear rubs.  I tried belly rubs, but she wasn’t having any of that.  I could rub my own belly, it seems.

Short visits between running from the dog (mutual…she’s a sweetheart that wouldn’t hurt a fly.  Or a cat.) became long visits.  Long visits became sitting in my lap.  That turned into sitting on the couch next to me, with me playing games.  Eventually, she was never more then 3 feet away, constantly napping at my feet…never bothering me, mind you, but still there…and then, last night, sleeping on the bed with me.

 Thats when it happened. I don’t sleep well, and one time I woke up, the cat…the poor, deluded cat, had my ankle between it’s paws, chest to shin bone, toes to face, fast asleep.

 My cat has a foot fetish.

Her name is Pox, by the way.  Her desire for cuddling is infectious.