Robots In Disguise

My nickname on the helpdesk is 'robot'. This was coined by manager, although he will never confess to doing so. Over the course of the year, it has just stuck. The origins of this are based not only on my uncanny ability to not take any of my annual leave allowance. (Well technically that is a lie, I took 1.5 days of the 24 available.) But more so on my religious conviction to take my lunch at 1pm sharp, and have my Ribena and cheese sandwich. Sure, it may somehow have been missed from the discussion so far, but I am a creature of deep rooted routine and habit. Nevertheless, there is a twist in our tale. In time honoured tradition, we were informed of the annual secret Santa. Sure enough, I signed up, hoping it would give me the chance to have to be imaginatively with my gift selection. To get back to the point, this is not about me. Well actually it is. Never mind. During out Christmas lunch meal on Wednesday, at a local restaurant and bar, I was handed my gift. It was a quite a large package, which deceived me to begin with. Beforehand, I had assumed we had to wait for the big day, but I was then duly given permission to unwrap the present. There was a big box of chocolates, a selection. Then I noticed another something in the bottom, it was rectangular and black. It was a book. Sure enough, someone somewhere had picked up on this nickname and turned into a joke. Funny, although one of my colleagues considers the name quite rude and nasty, I am indifferent. I personally do not care and let these kind of things go over my head.

Then again, perhaps I am part of the first wave of the invasion. If that is the case, would not Santa have been better off sending a copy with the rest of my colleagues so they know which signs to look out for. I will be reading the book, page by page, chapter by chapter and making changes to my behaviour to make sure I am not detected any further. (I also need to discover the identity of my secret Santa, which shouldn't be too difficult...) First step, stop drinking Ribena at lunchtime and take some holiday! When will the Transformers movie coming out? If I would ever consider myself a robot (in some strange parallel universe) it could only be Optimus Prime. How I miss my childhood!

Some Breathing Space

I already had this entire entry pre-planned in my mind before I loaded up my account on Blogger. Just a few minutes ago, I read the daily cartoon over at Doug. Classic, but such a shame it could only apply to me in an alternative universe (where I don't have internet access or it just does not exist!). It got me thinking that all anyone needs to know is my full name. They can simply Google It (image of cheesy 80s thumbs up!). Recently this phrase, has become the mantra of the helpdesk, to the extent that even other platforms are converting. One of my colleagues mentioned to my manager that when you put Andrew's name into the search engine giant, hundreds of results are generated. My manager, not being one to take the word of a subordinate, went to try this out for himself and was surprised to discover it the gospel truth. Although the total number of results generated is 341, only about the first five results actually amount to anything. Proves that my self obsessed search for fame can back fire on future networking prospects. Then again, people that know me in real life, perhaps see me as a quiet, reserved and focused individual. Just a shame you can find out so much more from the web.

Now back to our regular programming. Pressure, we all deal with it different ways. Over the past week, I have been under the kosh, a little greater than usual. As if the month end was not enough to contend with, I was to an extend a one man band operating a two man sub. Or so it felt like for parts of the week. While I hinted at some of the frustrations of this job in my last post, the reality is I am just helping a salesperson make their target (in essence) and perhaps that fundamental objective is against my true beliefs as a human being. In any case, with the chips down, it was once again a time to be counted and make sure that I give more than my best.

The work Christmas party is just around the corner, and while not too keen on the theme or venue, I have talked my colleagues on the helpdesk to come along. If one of the directors has his way, it would be all blue. At the end of the day, a party is what you make it, so I might as well go along and celebrate my year with the company. (After spending sometime consulting the survival guide!) And what a year it has been. As expected (I am male, of course) I have been extremely lax on making arrangements for the evening, having to be constantly nagged by the organisiers via e-mail to confirm firstly my attendance and then my transport. I might not be able to guarantee you much from the work Christmas do, but I can guarantee it will be different.