Wednesday 8 July 2009

Eye Tea

I'm on the cust of developing a tumour in my anguish and frustration at the IT in my new job. The main thrust of my role (if I might dignify my labours with that term) is to analyse sales data for a national newspaper. To do this, it's traditional to mine huge gobs of data (stop me if I'm getting too technical for you), and spin it into an array of bewildering, scarcely plausible graphs. Unfortunately, the reporting system I've been tasked with operating cannot spit out more that two lines of sales data at any one time. I am literally spending my days sitting in front of a computer twiddling my thumbs. Is it any wonder I go home and drink? What would you do, dear reader?

If it gets any facking slower, I'm going to be forced to bring four cans of Guinness to work each day and drink them at my desk. I *refuse* to spend what's left of my wretched tenure on this planet being defied by a laptop. I simply won't have it.

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