I closed the door to my office and spent half the morning shopping for shoes online.

I signed off early today so I could watch The Real Housewives of Orange County.

I have got back into one of my bad FreeCell habits. Horribly addicting game.

On more then one occasion I have pretended to work by typing out the same sentence over and over.

I may or may not be editing a radio show for another broadcaster while on the clock for my present one.

In office jobs in which my screen was not visible close-up to others, I have on occasion amused myself by typing out the lyrics to Bohemian Rhapsody. Repeatedly. Self-employment has been good for me in many ways...

I lost my temper, hollered and yelled.

I'm sort of the guy in my team that everyone comes to for advice about technical issues. This means that no one really hands me a ton of work to do. I'm just sorta on call, all week.

This means that a lot of the time, I have VERY LITTLE ON MY PLATE. I can't decide if that's terrible, or kind of alright.

I can't concentrate this afternoon. argh.

AHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! MY GUTS! THEY'RE EVERYWHERE!

*frantically clutches at his intestines, trying to shove them back into his abdominal cavity*

Whoops, that'll teach me not to read the [more inside].

I'm sort of the guy in my team that everyone comes to for advice about technical issues.

I get around this by explaining things in superfast undiluted jargon (like mentioning regexes without explaining what they are, because everyone knows regexes, right?). Not arrogant or down-talking at all, just waaaaaay over the person's head. So either they figure it out on their own, or I get the project assigned to me and then it's factored into my already available hours.

I closed the door to my office and spent half the morning shopping for shoes online.

I spent part of my work day counseling a friend on relationship issues. That describes most of my days, actually. I'd do it professionally except:
1. More school which means
2. More debt
3. You don't have to be tactful when calling friends on their bullshit. You can also say, "I'm really busy right now," when you're too emotionally drained to deal.

I spent the morning trying to figure out why I couldn't get the App Store to allow me to buy Keynote, before finally giving up and calling tech support, only to realize halfway through the call that it's because I had a version tucked away somewhere among the files I backed up from my old laptop. What a waste of a morning!

Eide, I don't really mind the senior analyst role. I'd like to be PAID for it, but who knows, maybe that will come too. I just feel badly at times, as I know others are swamped, but...I'm not.

if I do, I will soon become the "Excel Expert" in this corner of cubeland that everybody leans on instead of figuring out stuff themselves

Similarly, one of my strictest office rules is to NEVER admit knowing how to change the toner cartridge in the photocopier.

Because a recent re-arranging of furniture left us with stacks of books and papers and stuff on every flat surface of the apartment (excepting only part of the floor), I spent a good chunk of time and money today buying the supplies to put up new shelves, sort out the clutter, and generally reorganize.

Then I came home all excited to start putting up shelves, but instead I sat down and started playing a zombie apocalypse survival game in the middle of the chaos.

Even though we're having guests over in three days.

And now I'm here.

Oops.

because I know if I do, I will soon become the "Excel Expert" in this corner of cubeland that everybody leans on instead of figuring out stuff themselves and I just don't want to be that person

This doesn't sound like anything to feel remotely guilty over. This is just flat-out self-protection and doing one's actual job instead of someone else's. Good for you!

I have a few family members who have IDed me as their computer expert (which, WOW, I am sooooooooooo not expert) which means they never try to solve a problem themselves; they just wait 'til I visit and ask, or worse still, they call me up and hope I can diagnose it over the phone. I've recently started playing dumb --- and here, I really mean "playing even dumber" --- by suggesting they type the symptoms into Google instead of me doing it for them. Teach a man to fish, right?

I usually do very little on my telework days or when I leave work early. Today I stopped by Kohl's and a grocery store on the way home and I have every intention of not making up that 1.5 hours.

And I yelled at the dog this morning for eating the damn pricy cat food. And Saturday once I caught her for not coming in when called. I love her dearly but she's so freakin' frustrating.

My office nemesis, who is really just a person I pity because she has dug her own grave, was talking to my other colleague about her "surrogate" mother (age 90-something) needing hospice care. And really, I know that she's lonely and nobody likes her and she's desperate to find good care for her "mom" and all that, but I also know that she has not had a single conversation in the seven years I've worked here that a) didn't involve at least 80% self-centered complaining just for the sake of complaining and b) wasn't at least 80% longer than necessary.

So I felt bad for pooh-poohing something so personal, but as per usual I just wanted her to STFU.

I also hide the fact that I could solve most of the IT etc problems in half the time the help-desk could, because I am determined not to be 'that guy'. I managed to fly completely under the radar for about three years until I was outed, but I kept playing dumb and now I think most people have forgotten. I also hide the fact that I talked IT into giving me admin rights, so I can install what I want and do what I want with my machine while everyone else struggles with the standard build.

Plus, I really try to be accessible to my staff and my office door is usually open, I don't complain about people coming to me with their little problems that they could deal with themselves etc. There are times when I need to close the door because I'm under the pump to absolutely get something out. There are also times, I confess, when I am just not in the mood for any of that shit and I close the door and forward my phone to one of the admin staff to take messages and e-mail them to me. Very occasionally, for the whole day. Honestly, just because I want some fucking peace for a change.

I have a box of papers from my students I have not read and have no intention of reading. Seriously, it would take three of me. I just do what's necessary. I curve on grades anyway, so, with homework projects, I'm just looking at effort and completeness, and then there's generally one or two tests that "sort" the students pretty well, one Regents-based that shows me their reading level and maybe a reading quiz or two on our class books (only the stronger, most conscientious students do well on these). And that, along with classwork, is enough. Besides, if you grade generously, no one complains.

This teacher out at a school, along with a group of parents, is putting on Peter Pan, complete with a rig to fly the kids.

I just happened upon it by accident, sent my concerns up the chain of command, and now the school has been directed NOT to fly the kids.

The parents are banding together and sending us a bunch of emails, citing our ignorance and fear, but really. You do not fly someone without having it professionally designed, and there are only a handful of companies equipped, and insured, to do it.

This happened 10 years ago at the same school. Then, we said, OK but never again. Well the same teacher has forgotten about that conversation, and I cannot find any email trail with that admonition.

My confession is that I told my superiors that this group could do it safely (most probably) and maybe we should relent, but this time, put it in writing, never again. It's gotten very unpleasant, and I was almost going to have to go out and explain the "no" in person, without my superiors (who made the final decision) there to back me up. I expressed my lack of enthusiasm for that.

And, really, I want to just coast into my impending retirement, but the universe seems to have other plans.

danf, that story just blows my mind, that those parents are desperate to shoot their kids up in their air in unsafe rigging!

I assume the parents/guardians sign permission slips/releases? If so, yeah, what the heck... fly away.

Well unless the rigging is signed off on, or designed by someone with a "stamp," the liability rests with the district. And since there is NO theater professional who would be OK with home made flying appartati (even though one of this group of volunteers claims to have been a choreographer with Flying by Foy) it is a non-starter, really.

Went all the way to the Superintendent, the answer is still no.

My other guilty confession is that I mentioned this before and forgot that I had.

Ah, gotcha. Surprised they're letting it go forward then. I thought it would be like one of those mechanical bulls, release-wise, that is. Well, fingers crossed.

My sister's 14 year old daughter wrote me a letter, for the first time ever, after she tried to kill herself. I never wrote back.

I'm pretty much estranged from my family and barely see them. They also view me through the filter of teen suicide attempt, so while the letter from my niece was normal, that is the elephant in the subtext. I don't know what to say to her, I don't know how to help her, I don't have answers.

I don't actually use toothpicks. But I like keeping one in my mouth to play with.

At the burger place I go to every weekend, I'll take a bunch from next to the cash register instead of just one so I can have them at work.

They can't cost the restaurant more than a penny or two. And I do give them a lot of business. But it's not nice of me.

Guilty Light: after reading all about the Caramelized Onions controversies, I decided to make some myself. But since I don't LIKE working with the cook-top, I decided to try (gasp) making them in a Microwave. With a little butter (or ICBINButter), salt and sugar, and stopping to stir (basically moving the getting-too-brown parts down from the top) every 5 minutes, after about 40 minutes they came out pretty good! Brown and sweet and luxuriant!!!

Then, today, as I was running out of the first batch, I decided to do another batch and stretch out the 'between stirring' period to 8 minutes. Big mistake. About 6 minutes into the third cycle, something got way too brown and, well, kind of exploded. I ran to the kitchen to find the plastic container melted down flat and a pile of charcoal-looking stuff burning brightly on top. A splash of water put out the fire, but the smoke kept me out of the whole apartment for about 15 minutes. When it all cooled down, it wasn't hard to clean up the mess, except for some of the soot on the 'ceiling' of the microwave. It still smells a bit smokey but the micro still works. (It has a 'passive latch' so the kind-of-explosion blew the door open and stopped the cooking)

Still, the most dramatic - and embarrassing - microwave-related mishap I have ever had.

There are a couple of topics that I have strong opinions about; however, if I were to post those opinions to Metafilter, I would be crucified there.

I'm giving notice at work tomorrow. I don't feel guilty, but a bit empty, because I'm not sure how scared I should be. I have no replacement job, and a financial pincushion that will not last me very long if things go badly, but the tipping point has been reached. So, over I go.

Anyone know of anyone who needs someone to do things? I'm pretty good at things.

This will sound weird, but.... I'm falling in love with my wife as if she were another woman.

I didn't buy postcards for MeCha bunnies when I was in a cool place to do it -- Puerta Vallarta, baby! I fly out again tomorrow AM for Nashville, so y'all will probably get tacky cards with country singers on them. Assuming THIS time I remember to buy them.

So, Doohickie, does your wife as if she were the same woman know?

I have started to receive postcards but have not yet written mine. And I didn't buy enough for everyone on the list to have one so some will be even later.

I am supposed to be patient and pleasant and helpful in working with a particular not-very-bright coworker, and I do my best, in fact I do very well because she likes working with me better than with anybody else in the office. But inside I want to bang her stupid head on the desk repeatedly.

Even though I am still grieving over taking our dog back to the shelter yesterday, and missing her badly, I sadly admit that I felt relieved at the quiet and lack of tension in the house last night, as we didn't have to referee and manage the cat and dog interactions.

Doohickie, does she like pina coladas? Getting caught in the rain?

I laughed at the mental vision I had of JanetLand banging her co-worker's head on a desk. I'm a sick individual.

I felt like banging a couple of heads together yesterday. We asked two staff to do some boring, repetitive task that is also critical that it be done properly. So we got two people we knew would take the required care and do a good job. They said they were happy to do it. Now they say they feel like they're 'not valued' and 'demoralised' and feel like the 'whole thing has been managed badly'. Well, you know what? You still get paid the same even though you're doing work that you could do in your sleep and you get a break from the stress and manic pace that everyone else is putting up with at the moment. You knew the job was going to be boring and repetitive and you both said you were happy to do it. You're both lucky you work for the public service because, if this was a private sector workplace I could have saved myself 45 minutes of pain listening to your whining by telling you that you can always fuck off and find another job if you don't like it here. In that setting, I would also have been able to tell you that part of the reason we chose you is that you both perform well below the rest of the team and cause the most drama with your entitled whining attitudes.

Also, don't complain to me that you don't know what's happening with your job in the future when I've been telling you for two fucking years that there is no future in your job as of 1 July this year, you need to be out looking for opportunities and applying for jobs. Now there's six weeks to go and you've done nothing. Well, you fucking deserve what you've got coming to you then, you stupid cow.

My confession is that I thought all of that, although I pretended to be sympathetic, smiled and spewed platitudes and said I'd work out a solution.

This thread makes me think of Sergio Aragones' "The Shadow Knows" from Mad Magazine. Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? :)

I have to admit I'm guilty of not liking metafilter that much anymore.

Doohickie, what you said is the most romantic thing I think any married or coupled man could ever say.