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Nobody's fault but my own, and I don't mind at all, also because I think I got a nice deal: coming in to work late today, i.e. around 10, going to play tennis from 1-3, then back to work till 4 (never mind I'll be sweaty and wearing a tennis outfit). And I'll be doing the same on Tuesday, which is a Macedonian holiday.
I made boss this offer, because 1) the Powers That Be in Vienna went all wibbly again yesterday -- the Zogaj woman (Austrians know what I mean, and she really isn't worth wasting time for an explanation) will be applying for a seasonal working visa again today, and Vienna is, as always, afraid of The Media Monster. Cretinous wimps. Not that anybody's going to give a fuck about it anymore, but I know that boss doesn't feel comfortable having to deal with possible implications on his own. 2) The trip to Bitola yesterday was a total waste of time -- we went there to sign an agreement with the local university library, and when we'd sat down with pens eagerly trembling in our hands, the library people came up with a few things they didn't like about the text we'd sent them 2 weeks ago so they could give us their comments o_O Since the text had come from Vienna we couldn't change anything but have to ask for authorization. This has to be done asap, and so I offered boss to work 4 hours today and 4 on Tuesday in order to get it all done.
He was quite happy with the solution.
His bad mood, BTW, was over 5 minutes after we'd got in the car, and we had a very nice, if totally useless trip. Great fun: talking French so Blerim wouldn't understand what we were saying about Oliver, the ex-director of the opera. Since we were casting serious -- though, I beieve, entirely justified -- aspersions on his handling certain finances, discretion was necessary.
Of course I did miss pilates, but running was ok, especially after so many hours of having to sit still.
Critters, whom I left on their own for the first time for more than 8 hrs, were ok, too.
Moment of major shame: things were getting a little too hissy and growly later in the evening, so I locked Lola in her room, for everybody's good. But then I fell asleep on the couch... She had to spend five hours in prison. There's a water bowl and toilet in there, but I felt bad anyway. She was very cuddly when I let her out around 1.45 .m., and followed me around purring loudly, the poor girl.
But she woke me up this morning at 5.30 by chewing on my feet through the duvet. So justice has been done.
Today's diplomatic mail will contain, among other things, one packet of rubber balls and one of small balls made of pressed cotton. Critters love both, so much playing will ensue. And I unearthed an obviously very special mouse yesterday from under the low furniture-thingy on which the tv and stereo are standing. Cornelius went berserk, and Lola went berserk, and each was watching the other with gimlet eyes, waiting for the smallest possibility to get hold of the mouse. Very entertaining.
Yesterday's and probably also today's, major suckage:
A written request to boss arrived on Tuesday by email -- some minor MP demanding to know why XY from Kosovo hadn't got a visa. The problem is, Irene is responsible for reading, forwarding etc. what arrives in the Embassy mailbox. Of course Charlie and I (and also boss, but he never looks into the mailbox) have access, too, and so what happened was this: Charlie read and forwarded the mail to his own mailbox intending to deal with it later. Irene saw it had been read and forwarded, and did nothing. I guessed what was happening and waited.
Yesterday I wrote a message to both of them, asking what had happened with the mail. Had it been registered? Processed?
Charlie's answer: MP is a total idiot, I'm not sure yet what to do with the request, planning to deal with it tomorrow.
Irene's answer: I thought Charlie or you had dealt with it and didn't think about it anymore.
My response to both of them, blind copy to boss: My dears, this is definitely to the way to handle this kind of mail. This is a written request from an MP -- never mind if he's an idiot -- to the Ambassador. Which means that you can't let it lie around for a few days. So, for this and any similar future cases: message is to be registered and the resulting electronic file given to me for processing, link to be sent to the Ambassador. I thought that was clear anyway.
Whiny answer from Irene, starting with "I am completely innocent" -- if anything gets my hackles up, that's it. Then another one, starting with, "Sorry, but I was really hurt".
WTF???? Why is this suddenly an emotional problem? And WHY THE FUCK CAN'T PEOPLE JUST SAY SORRY I MADE A MISTAKE, WON'T HAPPEN AGAIN???????
I have to admit I did the whole thing on purpose -- I could have registered the thing and dealt with it -- because Charlie is getting extremely full of himself, and Irene is all "Oh Charlie is such a visa genius, I wouldn't dare to interfere with his business", and that's exactly how bad mistakes happen, and I wanted them both to see that.
So there's going to be a very, very annoying talk today. Yargh.
I made boss this offer, because 1) the Powers That Be in Vienna went all wibbly again yesterday -- the Zogaj woman (Austrians know what I mean, and she really isn't worth wasting time for an explanation) will be applying for a seasonal working visa again today, and Vienna is, as always, afraid of The Media Monster. Cretinous wimps. Not that anybody's going to give a fuck about it anymore, but I know that boss doesn't feel comfortable having to deal with possible implications on his own. 2) The trip to Bitola yesterday was a total waste of time -- we went there to sign an agreement with the local university library, and when we'd sat down with pens eagerly trembling in our hands, the library people came up with a few things they didn't like about the text we'd sent them 2 weeks ago so they could give us their comments o_O Since the text had come from Vienna we couldn't change anything but have to ask for authorization. This has to be done asap, and so I offered boss to work 4 hours today and 4 on Tuesday in order to get it all done.
He was quite happy with the solution.
His bad mood, BTW, was over 5 minutes after we'd got in the car, and we had a very nice, if totally useless trip. Great fun: talking French so Blerim wouldn't understand what we were saying about Oliver, the ex-director of the opera. Since we were casting serious -- though, I beieve, entirely justified -- aspersions on his handling certain finances, discretion was necessary.
Of course I did miss pilates, but running was ok, especially after so many hours of having to sit still.
Critters, whom I left on their own for the first time for more than 8 hrs, were ok, too.
Moment of major shame: things were getting a little too hissy and growly later in the evening, so I locked Lola in her room, for everybody's good. But then I fell asleep on the couch... She had to spend five hours in prison. There's a water bowl and toilet in there, but I felt bad anyway. She was very cuddly when I let her out around 1.45 .m., and followed me around purring loudly, the poor girl.
But she woke me up this morning at 5.30 by chewing on my feet through the duvet. So justice has been done.
Today's diplomatic mail will contain, among other things, one packet of rubber balls and one of small balls made of pressed cotton. Critters love both, so much playing will ensue. And I unearthed an obviously very special mouse yesterday from under the low furniture-thingy on which the tv and stereo are standing. Cornelius went berserk, and Lola went berserk, and each was watching the other with gimlet eyes, waiting for the smallest possibility to get hold of the mouse. Very entertaining.
Yesterday's and probably also today's, major suckage:
A written request to boss arrived on Tuesday by email -- some minor MP demanding to know why XY from Kosovo hadn't got a visa. The problem is, Irene is responsible for reading, forwarding etc. what arrives in the Embassy mailbox. Of course Charlie and I (and also boss, but he never looks into the mailbox) have access, too, and so what happened was this: Charlie read and forwarded the mail to his own mailbox intending to deal with it later. Irene saw it had been read and forwarded, and did nothing. I guessed what was happening and waited.
Yesterday I wrote a message to both of them, asking what had happened with the mail. Had it been registered? Processed?
Charlie's answer: MP is a total idiot, I'm not sure yet what to do with the request, planning to deal with it tomorrow.
Irene's answer: I thought Charlie or you had dealt with it and didn't think about it anymore.
My response to both of them, blind copy to boss: My dears, this is definitely to the way to handle this kind of mail. This is a written request from an MP -- never mind if he's an idiot -- to the Ambassador. Which means that you can't let it lie around for a few days. So, for this and any similar future cases: message is to be registered and the resulting electronic file given to me for processing, link to be sent to the Ambassador. I thought that was clear anyway.
Whiny answer from Irene, starting with "I am completely innocent" -- if anything gets my hackles up, that's it. Then another one, starting with, "Sorry, but I was really hurt".
WTF???? Why is this suddenly an emotional problem? And WHY THE FUCK CAN'T PEOPLE JUST SAY SORRY I MADE A MISTAKE, WON'T HAPPEN AGAIN???????
I have to admit I did the whole thing on purpose -- I could have registered the thing and dealt with it -- because Charlie is getting extremely full of himself, and Irene is all "Oh Charlie is such a visa genius, I wouldn't dare to interfere with his business", and that's exactly how bad mistakes happen, and I wanted them both to see that.
So there's going to be a very, very annoying talk today. Yargh.
