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us·er pool [yü-zer pül] 

In the world of technology, a User is someone who uses a computer. More specifically, it's someone who asks stupid questions about the use of that computer.

In the context of this blog, a Pool refers to an available supply, the use of which is shared by a group.

At one of the largest entertainment companies in Los Angeles, my job is to provide technical direction and support to these users, many of whom are female. That's where things get a little messy...

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Sunday
Nov142010

7 Plagues for Human Resources

Last week was the last straw for Human Resources. First they made me take down the "666" office number I had put up, and now they won't approve me putting "Antichrist" on my business cards. How ridiculous. 

Other run-ins with HR, just to cite a few more examples: 

So I decided last week to take action and punish HR with 7 plagues. 

1. The Fuck Virus: I had my programmer Maharajapuram create an Outlook virus that converts "Thank" to "Fuck" and "Thanks" to "Fuck you" with the auto correct function. Then Gladstone had one of his desktop support analysts install it on specific HR computers.  

There were some good emails that slipped out from HR on Tuesday.  

  • I'd like to fuck the person responsible for...
  • Fuck you very much...
  • We just want to fuck all the employees... 
  • And of course, the company-wide email closing with: Fuck you all, from Human Resources

Once they figured it out, Gladstone told them that it was a known virus you can get if you open an email with subject line "Donkey Show." Why would you open something like that? he asked, appalled. They denied it vehemently.

2. The Donkey Show Video Virus: Gladstone's desktop analyst also installed another Maharajapuram Outlook virus to ignite one day later. This virus spams all company contacts with an email containing a Tijuana donkey show video. Gladstone went back to HR and said, Why would you open another email with the subject line "Donkey Show Video" after what happened the day before??

3. Chicken Shit: Did you know you can buy live chickens in Chinatown? HR came into work on Thursday and found chicken shit everywhere. Computers, desks, chairs. Everywhere. Oh, and some chickens. Oddly, the security camera didn't record anything that night. But there was a message left on the wall written in chicken blood (or tomato paste. One of the two). It read: "Alcada was here." Pangbourn, the executive sponsor of the Emergency Response Team was informed immediately and now the building is on 24/7 terrorist alert.

4.  Locusts (sort of): Did you know that you can buy 250 live crickets from a novelty store? Kessler and I unleashed them in HR's area Friday night. Oddly, the security camera won't record anything again. They can pretty much chalk this one up to something supernatural and most likely satanic. 

Although these plagues were obviously caused by malicious hackers, terrorists, and potentially Satan himself, once I'm through with them, I'm hoping HR will require that I put "Antichrist" on my business cards.

I need three more plagues for HR for this week. I welcome any suggestions you may have...

Thursday
Sep022010

Dysfunctional Relationship Management

I'm convinced that a good relationship boils down to the number of stories you have to exchange.

Once you run out of stories to tell each other or begin repeating stories, the relationship is over. Then you become that couple sitting at dinner who doesn't speak to each other. We all make fun of that couple until we become that couple. 

The beauty of a dysfunctional relationship is that it can go on for years independent of the stories you have to tell. 

Blair and I have a near perfect dysfunctional relationship

Our relationship is based on a dysfunctional cycle that continuously repeats or varies slightly and repeats and somehow never seems to get old. Here's a sample of that cycle:  

  1. Blair and I get together and have passionate sex.
  2. The next day, I'm in a great mood.
  3. Blair assumes that I'm in a great mood because I'm fucking someone else.
  4. Blair starts spying on me because she thinks I'm in a great mood because I'm fucking someone else.
  5. Although I am always fucking someone else, the day after I fuck Blair, I have to pretend to appear like I'm not fucking anyone else.
  6. The more I pretend to appear that I'm not fucking anyone else, the more she becomes suspicious that I'm fucking someone else. 
  7. After spying on me for a couple of days and once it becomes clear that I can't possibly be fucking anyone else, Blair is absolutely convinced that I'm fucking someone else. 
  8. Blair gets angry and starts ignoring me completely.
  9. Blair expects me to pay more attention to her because she's ignoring me, but instead I pay less attention to her by ignoring her back.
  10. The more I ignore Blair, the more she pays attention to me. 
  11. The more Blair pays attention to me, the more she wants me.
  12. The more Blair wants me, the more she thinks I must want her too and can't possibly be fucking anyone else because I want her so much.
  13. Once that happens, we're on again.
  14. We fuck and the cycle starts over. 

As I mentioned, there are variations to this cycle. For example, sometimes I don't say things she's thinking I should say at the moment she imagines me saying it. She will work out entire conversations in her head that she somehow expects me to also hear and then repeat with her. When that doesn't happen, she wants to cut my balls off. 

Then we're just angry at each other until we both get more horny than angry and we fuck again.

We're in the "Off" stage of the cycle right now, and although I pretend to appear like I'm not fucking anyone else, that's the time I fuck other women the most. 

I'm thinking of giving Tabbatha the Sexoleptic another chance. But I'm taking her to Starbucks for a quad first. 

Thursday
Aug052010

Sexolepsy

It's never a good idea to have sex with someone who works for you. Which is why I never hire hot women. Not that there's an over abundance of hot women in the field of technology, but you do occasionally come across a candidate that doesn't fit the geek profile. At all.

If I hire a hot woman, no matter how professional I keep it, sooner or later I will rationalize that professionalism right into the bedroom. 

Thus, my personal recruitment rule: Do not hire hot women. 

A few weeks ago, I hired two additional staff members. Both women. Both hot.  

I was never good at following rules, even my own. 

But I had reasons for breaking this rule. First, I didn't hire the web designer because she's hot. That would be absurd and shallow. I hired her because her last name is "Knipples." Yes, she's talented, and that was certainly a factor, but hot or not, there was no way I could pass up hiring a woman whose last name is Knipples.  And I guarantee this: I will never call her by her first name.

The second woman I hired is a business analyst. Her name is Tabbatha. She's hot, but not exactly my type. On the other hand, she's exactly the kind of woman who will make both Mulhausen and Fernandez blush and get all giddy around her. She's a slim blond with apple-sized tits, but doesn't really ooze sexuality. Instead, she oozes sweetness. She's not annoyingly sweet, but genuine.  Both my bosses will eat it up. And that will put me in a position to get things done that I might have otherwise struggled to achieve because they both hate me with a passion.

So really, there was nothing to worry about. I hired them for the right reasons.

Although I did have sex with Knipples last night.

Sort of.

She's cute, but skinny, flat-chested with a Peter Pan haircut. So I thought I'd be safe having drinks with her after work. It was her idea. But unlike Tabbatha, Knipples oozes sexuality. Especially when she gets alcohol in her. How was I supposed to know?

It wasn't long before we were back at her place having more to drink. That's the way it goes. Let's save some money and drink at my place. Right. 

Once there, it was only moments before I had her clothes off and we were bouncing on the couch. Well, futon couch.

But there I was thinking everything was going really well and all of a sudden Knipples fell asleep. 

That's right. Right in the middle of what I thought was a stellar performance on my part, she seemed to dose right the fuck off. 

I stopped. Gave her a little nudge. She woke up and looked up at me.

"Am I boring you?" I asked.

"No, not at all," she said. "I forgot to mention. I have Sexolepsy." 

I gave her a Scooby look and a "Ruh?"

"It's not a big deal," she continued. "It's like Narcolepsy, but it only happens during sex. Just keep fucking me. I'll wake up when I orgasm."

Um. Okay.

So I kept going, and once again, she fell asleep. Then I started thinking, this must be what it's like to be a necrophiliac. She's asleep, but she also looks kind of dead. And I can tell you right now, having done it last night, I don't like fucking dead people. 

So I tried to focus on her body, not the fact that her brain was shut off. Then I realized how truly young she looked. Skinny body, no tits, short little haircut. Then I felt like a pedophile. 

That was it. 

I got up, let her sleep, and left. So I don't really think that counts as having "sex" with your employee. In fact, I'm still not sure what it was. So in my mind, I haven't crossed any lines. And today, things shouldn't be awkward at all. 

I've been hiding in my office all day with the door shut. Just in case. 

Monday
Jun212010

E&Y Has T&A

Ernst & Young auditors have learned that the more tits and ass they bring to a meeting with me, the less difficult I'll be. The less tits and ass they bring, the more difficult I'll be. And with no tits and ass, it will be absolutely impossible to deal with me. 

I've been meeting with E&Y auditors to discuss SOX compliance as it relates to our software deployment process. These are the same compliance requirements that were in place when the mortgage industry collapsed. So not only is it boring, it's also completely useless. 

And we've already done this once with the internal SOX Auditors

That's why this sort of meeting really irritates me. And the only way I can entertain myself is to torment these consultants by being difficult. Unless tits and ass are present. 

Most female E&Y auditors are Asian. So I haven't been getting a lot in the tit department. And the ass, well, they're sitting on their asses in the meeting, so I'm not getting much of that either.

I've been behaving like Lindsay Lohan in a bar that won't serve her anymore alcohol. 

So they finally found an Asian with tits and brought her to our meeting today. She's Korean. And her name is Kum Soon. 

When she introduced herself, I held my tongue. But it was hard. I quickly glanced around the room to see if anyone else was going to snicker, but everyone was completely stoic. Are you fucking kidding me?

So I wiped any semblance of a grin off my face, shook her hand, and introduced myself. 

Today, I was the least difficult I had ever been with E&Y. 

Not only did her tits keep me occupied, but I also entertained myself with her name the rest of the meeting:

Kum Soon: "I'll try to get the first part of the evaluation finished by tomorrow."

Me: "I can only hope you do, Kum Soon."


Kum Soon: "Do you think you'll be able to send me those files today?"

Me: "I will Kum soon, if all goes well."

 

Me: "I'd like to see you Kum Soon in my office after the meeting."

 

Me: "It was a pleasure having you Kum Soon here today." 

I'm not sure if she understood what I was doing, but I did get some nice little smiles from her. It wasn't exactly a Fuck me smile; it was more of a Fuck me maybe smile. But consultants are like strippers. When they look like this one, it's her job to make the client think she wants to fuck him. And if she's really good at her job, she makes the client forget about all the money he's throwing away on their worthless audit. 

So she did actually stop by my office after the meeting. I, of course, refused to talk about the audit. Instead, I asked her what kind of alcohol she liked to drink the most. She's a vodka woman.

We'll be having drinks together after work soon. And hopefully, I'll get to see if she lives up to her name.

Thursday
Jun032010

Penis Packaging

Well, someone put a penis on the packaging for one of our products.

All of our lovable cartoon characters are standing around an organ pipe and one of the pipes is actually a male organ. Yep: a penis pipe. 

The product is packaged, shipped, in the stores and being purchased for kids all over the world.

Everyone is wondering how something like this could have happened, especially with our rigid QA standards and practices.

The Art Department is blaming the QA department for letting a penis through, while the QA department is blaming the Art Department for drawing a penis to begin with. 

The artists are being interrogated. They have already ruled out the Indian artist, given the penis on the packaging is circumcised. They'd like to just narrow it down to the gay artists, since everyone knows gay men are obsessed with the penis, but HR will not let them because that would be sexual orientation profiling. 

Excluding the Indian, there were four other artists working on this property/brand. Two gay, two straight. 

After exhaustive interviews, HR has determined: 

  • The artists are split on the "NOH8" campaign; two artists want H8, two artists don't. Split by sexual orientation, as you might imagine
  • The artists are split on Judy Garland; two believe she was the greatest performer of all time, two don't know who the fuck she is. Not split by sexual orientation, as you might imagine
  • All the artists agree that the Jersey Shore is gay
  • All the artists agree that Brad Pitt is hot and Angelina Jolie is a bitch
  • All the artists agree the Company's benefits package is small and insignificant

Since they could not determine which artist was responsible for the penis on the packaging, they fired the entire QA department. 

Things will be much better now that we have absolutely no quality assurance at this company.