I rarely talk about my job on here because, well, it's boring. But I found myself so mindboggled by a work situation last Friday that I had to share it. I had to send a courier from Paris to the south-west of France where my boss will be staying on Tuesday and wants the package waiting for him when he arrives. Simple, right? Except that this was my first time sending a courier package from our Paris office, and let me tell you, if you'd like me to perform brain surgery or build a cyborg army or program a rocket to Mars, just let me know because I am pretty sure any of those tasks would be easier than this.
First of all, our mailroom doesn't help with couriers. The mailroom. Doesn't. Do. Couriers. (Which makes me wonder what exactly they do do, other than drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes all day, but that's beside the point.) Anyway, after discovering this, it took me 45 minutes and asking no less than six of my colleagues for assistance with various aspects of this ridiculously complicated task.
So after all that, today I go online to track the package (because it's not like I could ask the mailroom to take time away from their busy schedules to do any such thing), and I discover that the package which I was sending from Paris to the south-west of France was first sent to Germany to be processed and sorted and THEN sent to Spain to be processed and sorted AGAIN. How much processing and sorting does one little envelope need??? I shouldn't be too annoyed, after all, it seems as though the package has finally made its way back to France (although not to its final destination yet - what, are you crazy? It's only been 3 days, let's keep our expectations reasonable, people). I'm wondering why I bothered with any of it - I am pretty sure I could have walked the package there more quickly. Hell, I could have crawled there on my belly, backwards and blindfolded, and gotten it there before now.
And I'm trying to detox at the moment - to borrow a phrase from Airplane (one of my favourite movies): "Looks like I picked the wrong week to give up drinking..."