Can’t even begin to tell you how satisfying it was to dump my LAST email from the Accounts Corporate Manager back east, into the trash bin this morning.
…So satisfying that I dumped it without even reading beyond the title header: “Thank you and farewell.”
…A blanket letter to all branches…looooong in the making.
She is at last leaving!
Fucking PARTY AT MY HOUSE!!!!!
This woman has been the bane of my numbers-existence for the past three years, having graduated from just being a general pain-in-the-ass “specialist” before that. She’s one of those people who would rather bicker and fight over incidentals across a stream of 15 emails, than just look up information herself and get the shit DONE.
I can’t HANDLE people like that.
It completely nuts me up.
…She would rather SIT on 5 emails on separate accounts, across a full week, never really answering or resolving any of them, only coming up with 45 reasons as to why she hasn’t gotten around to finalizing them yet. I (being the exact opposite) HATE having shit in my inbox, and work my ass off to get that fucker cleared by 10 am each day. Except I never really can. Because all her outstanding follow-up account crap is always still there. Staring at me. So I send her reminders AGAIN. And get more excuses back. Our email conversations go something like:
She: We don’t DO account calls here. Or collections.
Me: I’m sorry, but aren’t you the “accounts DEPARTMENT?”
She: We are merely the “facilitator.”
Me: Okay. I don’t understand what you need.
She: Collection letters.
Me: Okay. Go for it. Do you need my authorization? All the account names and contact info are lower in this stream.
She: We need the collection letters.
Me: Yes. Okay. Go for it. Is there a form??? I don’t understand.
She: You need to send out collection letters.
Me: But you’re the “Account Department.” Isn’t that what you do?
She: No. We “facilitate.”
Me: Again, I’m sorry, I don’t understand what that means.
She: We watch the accounts and tell you when they are outstanding.
Me: I was the one who told you, six emails ago, that this needed collection.
She: We need collection letters…
OR
Me: “X” contractor has still not been paid for job “Y.” It was closed out correctly on “date” in batch number “Z”, and is not on the current Pay Report.
(two days later.)
Me: (resend of:) “X” contractor has still not been paid for job “Y.” It was closed out correctly on “date” in batch number “Z”, and is not on the current Pay Report.
She: What job is this for?
Me: “Y.”
She: Was it a contractor swap?
Me: No. Regular pay out. No changes.
She: When was it closed?
Me: On “date” in batch number “Z.”
She: Who needs to be paid?
Me: Again: Contractor “X.”
She: It’s not on the Pay Report.
Me: I know. That’s why I sent this to you.
She: Well, something got mixed up in batching then. Do you know the batch number you used?
Me: (OMFG!!) Yes. Batch “Z.”
She: Here it is. On “date.”
Me: I know. I just need to make sure it hits the paychecks this Friday.
(a day later.)
Me: Hi. I’m just making sure this job pay hits for tomorrow’s check run.
She: What job pay?
…Etc…
THIS has been my entire relationship with the woman since she first took over management. Thankfully her under-employees have their heads at least halfway out of their asses…enough to understand and read streams of information, and (most of the time) actually get some shit done.
…And now…the woman voted Most Likely To Be Punched In The Boob By Me is OUTTA HERE!
Gone!
Gone!
Gone!
…Off to make a living hell outta someone ELSES lives! That aren’t me!!
And I’m so happy, I could just pee.
Oop. I think I did.
I peed.
~D