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Wednesday, December 08, 2004
Call Me in the Way-Back Machine
I’m a big fan of most things Retro™. Okay, maybe just the music. And porn. One of the excluded things would be our office’s voicemail system.

First of all, it’s not user-friendly. I’ve moved offices a few times, and it’s a pain in the ass to change the settings, record new out-going messages, etc. And the system has Alzheimer’s, apparently. It “lost” my greeting and reverted back to my (fired) co-worker’s. They’ve been talking about replacing it for almost a year now. So, I refused to change the out-going message again (so everyone who doesn’t know me thinks they’re calling “some girl”) and waited for them to replace the system. And waited. And waited.

Well, this morning, after weeks of the receptionist rebooting the voicemail server several times a day, the system crapped out (for realz). And the voicemail wizard came to spirit the server’s CPU away (for repair). Suddenly, replacing the 15-year-old phone system is an official crisis.

This whole scenario is just a snapshot of how things are managed here. It’s worse than the “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” rule. Here, the axiom seems to be, “Don’t fix it until it’s broke beyond repair.” Which is a corollary to the principle of “lastminute-i-tis.” That this company seems to be founded on.

In other “Oh, I didn’t eat/shop there anyway” news, we’re having a Blue Christmas. You should, too. Fuck Red Lobster. Fuck Outback. And fuck (as always) Wal-Mart . . . y’know, if you can find anywhere else to shop.