Post by Inigo Montoya on Aug 18, 2011 12:26:01 GMT -5
Actually of 2007, now that I think further... for DD, mrbb and Lucretia... I put it over here so as not to pollute the other thread
My boss came to me and asked for my help with the Goat Show at the fair. He needed someone there to run Microsoft Exel and he considers me the tech guru at our office. (Which is genuinely laughable and says sad things about the tech-savviness of my other co-workers.) I had used Excel before... for approximately 15 seconds. That time, I left the room cursing and looking for a computer shaped voodoo doll and some black pins. That's the kind of experience we were working with...
At a goat show, they get information like the child/exhibitor's name and age, and the goat's ear tag number, age and weight. Then they divide the animals into classes (the groups that'll show and be judged against each other) according to gender, age and weight. So, we sat down a few days before the show and made a spreadsheet... I asked him if he had all the info he wanted in there, because I didn't want to get to the show and mess something up trying to change things. He said yes, we played with it a little to make sure I knew how to sort things using the program, saved it and then we were ready to go. Easy-peasy, right?
Fast forward to Saturday, it's hot as crap and my boss announces he also wants me to get the grade of the child, too. Ack! Quick, mild freak out, then deep breath, add the column and get on with my job. He and another guy guide (and/or wrestle) the goats into the chute, I record the info and they give them back to the kids. I'm actually having a good time, we've got a rhythm going... this isn't so bad, after all. Yaysomeness! A little more than two hours later, they've finished weigh in, and I'm ready to do the fancy-shmancy data sorting and then boss-dude will do his thing, I'll add some lines to separate things and wham-bam... we'll be ready to go.
I didn't ask for the kid's grade every time and now I've got some spots to fill in, so I decide to sort everything by the exhibitor's name to take care of that right quick. I click on the column with the kids' names, then the other thingie at the top (Sort? Filter?), and a box opens up and asks if I want to do something called “expand the selection” and I narrowed my eyes at it and said “no.” I immediately realized that something wasn't right, so I saved it. (When in panic mode, I always recommend doing exactly the wrong thing...
) So, my boss meanders back over and tells me to sort for goat age... he needs the aged does (old females). I'm still in mild panic mode, so I sort for goat age and then again... that stupid question, “expand the selection?” NO! I tell the computer... print the list and give it to him.
After he leaves, I start messing with it again only to realize that my previous shenanigans have snipped the threads that hold the data of 140 goats and 60 exhibitors together... PANIC! PANIC! PANIC! (This is pretty much like releasing all the rats from a lab which has multiple experiments going on. When you get the rats back you can't tell which experiment they belong to... did I mention PANIC! PANIC! PANIC!)
I immediately run back over to my boss.. where we have this conversation.
Me: Oh! Oh! Great Calvini! We have a problem! (You know you've got a great boss when you can call him “The Great Calvini” ;D)
The Great Calvini, calmest human on the planet, tilts the microphone away from his face to say: No, Trace, everything's great.
Me: No! No! You don't understand! (mild flailing of the hands begins)
The Great Calvini: Nope, everything's good, you've done a good job. (He gives me a serene smile and turns back to the mic) Soandso please come to the stage.
Me (thumping my chest in agitation, like Celine Dion only repeatedly, I'm finding it hard to breathe): No, I've messed up! All your information is wrong!
The Great Calvini looks at me, mildly confused, and then Soandso shows up. He turns to Soandso and says... we need to check the teeth on your aged doe to make sure we're within the guidelines.
Soandso: We didn't bring an aged doe.
The Great Calvini turns back to me with dawning understanding and mild horror on his face.
Me: I told you we had a problem!
So, I bring him back over and explain that I have totally screwed up our beautiful data... I'm in a HUGE panic... we're gonna have to reweigh the goats! ALL 140 GOATS! OHMYGOD! OHMYGOD! We... wait, wait just a second. The ear tag and the goat's weight are still together...Oh, Thank God!
The Great Calvini makes an announcement and all the parents and kids line up with the records THEY had kept from the weigh in (Whew!) and we match up all the animals with their exhibitors. The meanest man in my profession stood beside me and helped and divided up the classes and calmed me. (Seriously, someone recently told this guy that he bears a striking resemblance to Charles Manson... I'm pretty sure it's the crazy eyes.)
Part of my panic was because I thought that the show started immediately after the classes were decided. It took nearly two hours to get it all sorted out. I had delayed the start of the show for HOURS! I asked The Great Calvini but he said everything was fine. He was obviously being kind to the village idiot. I stuck around... the guilt was bad. I was sure that they'd be showing and judging goats until 2 a.m. because of my incompetence. And regular exhibitors did agree that they'd finish sometime after midnight. I was incredibly grateful that, apparently, no one had a gun in their truck. O.o
Some time around 9 p.m., when I had brought The Great Calvini dinner from the midway, I finally understood that they build in a 2 hour wait between weigh in and the show start. I didn't delay anything! I left... called my sister... who told me that the liquor store that my bro-in-law helped build had just opened... which seemed to indicate that my need for alcoholic succor was endorsed by God.
Ben Franklin said so.
My boss came to me and asked for my help with the Goat Show at the fair. He needed someone there to run Microsoft Exel and he considers me the tech guru at our office. (Which is genuinely laughable and says sad things about the tech-savviness of my other co-workers.) I had used Excel before... for approximately 15 seconds. That time, I left the room cursing and looking for a computer shaped voodoo doll and some black pins. That's the kind of experience we were working with...
At a goat show, they get information like the child/exhibitor's name and age, and the goat's ear tag number, age and weight. Then they divide the animals into classes (the groups that'll show and be judged against each other) according to gender, age and weight. So, we sat down a few days before the show and made a spreadsheet... I asked him if he had all the info he wanted in there, because I didn't want to get to the show and mess something up trying to change things. He said yes, we played with it a little to make sure I knew how to sort things using the program, saved it and then we were ready to go. Easy-peasy, right?
Fast forward to Saturday, it's hot as crap and my boss announces he also wants me to get the grade of the child, too. Ack! Quick, mild freak out, then deep breath, add the column and get on with my job. He and another guy guide (and/or wrestle) the goats into the chute, I record the info and they give them back to the kids. I'm actually having a good time, we've got a rhythm going... this isn't so bad, after all. Yaysomeness! A little more than two hours later, they've finished weigh in, and I'm ready to do the fancy-shmancy data sorting and then boss-dude will do his thing, I'll add some lines to separate things and wham-bam... we'll be ready to go.
I didn't ask for the kid's grade every time and now I've got some spots to fill in, so I decide to sort everything by the exhibitor's name to take care of that right quick. I click on the column with the kids' names, then the other thingie at the top (Sort? Filter?), and a box opens up and asks if I want to do something called “expand the selection” and I narrowed my eyes at it and said “no.” I immediately realized that something wasn't right, so I saved it. (When in panic mode, I always recommend doing exactly the wrong thing...
) So, my boss meanders back over and tells me to sort for goat age... he needs the aged does (old females). I'm still in mild panic mode, so I sort for goat age and then again... that stupid question, “expand the selection?” NO! I tell the computer... print the list and give it to him. After he leaves, I start messing with it again only to realize that my previous shenanigans have snipped the threads that hold the data of 140 goats and 60 exhibitors together... PANIC! PANIC! PANIC! (This is pretty much like releasing all the rats from a lab which has multiple experiments going on. When you get the rats back you can't tell which experiment they belong to... did I mention PANIC! PANIC! PANIC!)
I immediately run back over to my boss.. where we have this conversation.
Me: Oh! Oh! Great Calvini! We have a problem! (You know you've got a great boss when you can call him “The Great Calvini” ;D)
The Great Calvini, calmest human on the planet, tilts the microphone away from his face to say: No, Trace, everything's great.
Me: No! No! You don't understand! (mild flailing of the hands begins)
The Great Calvini: Nope, everything's good, you've done a good job. (He gives me a serene smile and turns back to the mic) Soandso please come to the stage.
Me (thumping my chest in agitation, like Celine Dion only repeatedly, I'm finding it hard to breathe): No, I've messed up! All your information is wrong!
The Great Calvini looks at me, mildly confused, and then Soandso shows up. He turns to Soandso and says... we need to check the teeth on your aged doe to make sure we're within the guidelines.
Soandso: We didn't bring an aged doe.
The Great Calvini turns back to me with dawning understanding and mild horror on his face.
Me: I told you we had a problem!
So, I bring him back over and explain that I have totally screwed up our beautiful data... I'm in a HUGE panic... we're gonna have to reweigh the goats! ALL 140 GOATS! OHMYGOD! OHMYGOD! We... wait, wait just a second. The ear tag and the goat's weight are still together...Oh, Thank God!
The Great Calvini makes an announcement and all the parents and kids line up with the records THEY had kept from the weigh in (Whew!) and we match up all the animals with their exhibitors. The meanest man in my profession stood beside me and helped and divided up the classes and calmed me. (Seriously, someone recently told this guy that he bears a striking resemblance to Charles Manson... I'm pretty sure it's the crazy eyes.)
Part of my panic was because I thought that the show started immediately after the classes were decided. It took nearly two hours to get it all sorted out. I had delayed the start of the show for HOURS! I asked The Great Calvini but he said everything was fine. He was obviously being kind to the village idiot. I stuck around... the guilt was bad. I was sure that they'd be showing and judging goats until 2 a.m. because of my incompetence. And regular exhibitors did agree that they'd finish sometime after midnight. I was incredibly grateful that, apparently, no one had a gun in their truck. O.o
Some time around 9 p.m., when I had brought The Great Calvini dinner from the midway, I finally understood that they build in a 2 hour wait between weigh in and the show start. I didn't delay anything! I left... called my sister... who told me that the liquor store that my bro-in-law helped build had just opened... which seemed to indicate that my need for alcoholic succor was endorsed by God.
Ben Franklin said so.
