My office

Let me preface this blog by saying: I love my job. I honestly do. This office, these people, this job saved me from jumping off the building that housed the basement that contained the Oklahoma Wheat Commission. It was a morgue: it was completely silent, with slight humming of random electronics, no light filtered in as the douchetards in leadership gave up an office with windows to cause everyone to trudge down stairs to the basement. And it smelled of human excrement. More or less the sewer would back up and stink up the kitchen in which we created cinnamon rolls and whole wheat bread. Sanitary and sweet smelling!

So here I set in the window of 440 W. Main in Yukon, sometimes forgetting that I am in a store front and folks can see me. I am slowly learning to stop picking my nose and I don't eat every meal at my keyboard. Don't want the bar rats across the street to be able to judge me as I do them.... and somewhat envy, but that is a whole other can of worms.

However, here in Yukon, here in this office, I am a good 25 years younger than the two residents that I occupy this space with on a daily basis. They do a great job figuring out the Internet, e-mail and other technology like creations. However, since I can start up a computer without scratching my head, I am now in charge of the IT department. That, my friends and followers, isn't cool. I crash my iPhone rather handily and the guts of a computer baffle and bewilder me.

For instance, they believe in me enough to figure out why an e-mail won't go through. Never mind the response they received stating that the users e-mail is full. Nothing I can do folks. Pick up the phone and inform the gentleman. It isn't our doing.... sheesh.

Or right this second...... A fax price list has somehow been misplaced, either by the patriarch of the company or someone else. Not me. My paws weren't on it. After I give them the lowdown on what Priefert is, we scour the office as a team, me the only one without a mullet or grey hair, BTW. It is not here, vanished, adios. My suggestion is ask the boss with whom he spoke to to get said price list. Play it off like we are looking for that specific name on the document, then call that person, request a resend. Nope. We are going to print a list, get their fax number and send an "SOS, please call us." fax to them. Speak up if you think this will work... (Insert crickets chirping here)

Another instance is when they ask me... the Hoosier... if there are such and such towns in Oklahoma. Just now I heard "KC, is there a Union and Union City, Oklahoma?" To which I have to inform them I will Google it in an instant. Do I look like Rand McNally folks? In my seven years down here, I have done a bit of traveling, but I haven't made it my quest to memorize the towns in this state. For crying out loud, there is a Pink, Oklahoma! PS- they get hit by naders all the time, don't move there. The Google thing is beyond them. Now don't get me wrong, I can still use a map. It is more to the fact of finding the damn thing in this overstuffed office. Purging isn't in their nature. We should be on the show Hoarders: Office version. Fo Sho!

I could go on, but that is all I can deal with right now. My blood pressure is rising, from my corpse like state to a higher version.

PS- my grandpa is in the hospital and I feel useless. If only I didn't have some Podunk Limmy sale to work this weekend I would trek home. Damn Limmy's! Anyone with the skills to run a live auction want to cover for me? It would be a rewarding experience. Well, no takers. I will shut my trap and do it. Earning a dollar should make him proud.

Thanks for reading. I am a bore these days. Entertain me back, folks.