If I’m the only one to survive, they should triple my pay.

Good lord.

If I call technology support with a simple question – say, that my QuickLaunch bar disappeared and I can’t get it back because I’m not an administrator on my machine – why don’t I have it back after three days and seven phones calls? Why? Why is it that they can’t figure out what to do even after calling in their co-workers on conference for assistance? Why, after I research the answer and subsequently TELL THEM HOW TO DO IT because I know more about computers than they do, can’t they can’t figure it out still? What am I supposed to do?

Maybe if I were to unplug my network connection after they remotely logged into my machine I could surreptitiously fix my settings and then plug back in before they’re any the wiser? Hmm.

(I’ll never understand why IT people make so much money. Good IT people deserve it, but the only good ones I’ve ever met have been my friends at Drexel.)

In other news, it seems as though Blogger altered the longstanding variable “BlogItemUrl” to display a full domain url rather than just a file name with a target attached, thus breaking every single permalink from the past four years. That’s 2500+ permalinks. I had to have an emergency template-editing session in the middle of the day so that you can obsessively link all of my highly entertaining writing from your own pages. So, yeah.

Meanwhile, my department is dropping like flies. One of my coworkers left the office in the middle of the day yesterday so suddenly sick that she literally had to bring a trash bag for her cab ride home. Then, this morning, two more people had to go home before our morning meeting was even underway, with a third turned a color so yellow that I think he may have developed jaundice overnight.

That’s a fifth of our entire department! I refuse to catch their sickness; I haven’t involuntarily thrown up for a reason other than alcohol consumption since middle school. Rest assured, my OCD is in high gear today – I typically treat every surface in the office as if it was thinly coated in poop anyhow, but today I have expanded that distinction to include fellow associates and added the additional precaution of wearing an imaginary fencing mask, so that I am unable to touch my hands or any office supply to any area near me face. And I still feel queasy; damn placebo effect.

Maybe it’s ebola or something, and I’ll prove to be resistant due to my iron-clad stomach, and after everyone dies I can sneak down to tech support and fix my damned Start bar.