The Week of Pain Isn't Just for JC

The last couple of days have been super.

Yesterday, my boss calls me in to FINALLY pay attention to a follow-up project to the chemical poo factory visit. Basically, we're (meaning I'm) supposed to come up with a fancy-schmancy monthly report on the factory's performance. The whole works. Right down to the number of cogs replaced per day. Big Brother on paper - or rather, Excel.

I'd drawn up a skeleton based on the meagre supply of information the chemical poo execs had given us, but we both knew that we'd have to force them to do all the filling-in-the-boxes themselves. So all we needed to do was the mechanics of the structure. Like architects. We do all the thinking and the factory people do all the donkey work.

Or so I thought.

Conversation goes something like this:

12:30pm:
Big Boss Man: Eureka, I need you to take the old monthly report's structure and create a new one for the chemical poo factory. I need it by tomorrow morning. Can you do it?
[Rocky theme music playing as he leans in like the editor dude in Superman and awaits my response]
Eureka: ARE YOU ON CHRYSTAL METH? THAT'LL TAKE A WEEK! MINIMUM! You must be on crack or maybe crack's on you but you know that's not possible. Even for a genius like me. ESPECIALLY since I don't know how to use Excel for more than 1+1=(Cell A:CellB)

I wish.

Really:

Eureka: Sure. I can't promise that the links will work perfectly though because you've only just taught me how to do it - in theory - ten seconds ago.
Big Boss Man: No problem, we'll fix the links in the morning.

Eureka shuffles off to her desk wracking her brain for any IT geek to do it for her. Lightbulb! The IT geek and Excel Genius who sits behind her! Looks frantically for him. He took the day off. GOD DAMN DAYS OFF! You mean I listen to him whining and sending me depressed emails every day for him to take the day off the ONE time I want to call in those favours? So much for no good deed goes unpunished.

I sit there working from 1pm to 9:30pm. Straight. I KID YOU NOT. I can actually concentrate like that when I need to. By 9:30 though, I am exhausted. I can't see straight. So I send him what I have (most of it was done) and tell him where I need his help (the links were screwy as I said they'd be) and head home.

Next morning:

Wake up, go through the whole bathroom, closet, kitchen routine and get into the car. Oh hello? You're not my car. Turns out my car's in the shop and here's Grandpa's car subbing. Ok, no problem. Grandpa's car is parked 24/7 since he never uses it so nothing could possibly be the matter with it. I won't be late. Good start. Let's go, driver!

And so we go.

We are in the middle of Ramses street, which is one of the most crowded and gross streets in the city. Today is the hottest day of the year so far, ringing in at 45ºC in the shade. The SHADE. And it's only April 23rd. I can't imagine what June will be like.

Suddenly huge pillars of white smoke billows out from under the hood.

Yes, ladies and gents. The car decided to do it and overheat on the one day I neeeeeeeded to be at work on time. I guess I'm being punished by the great angry gods for not paying attention to JC being crucified tomorrow and not paying my respects to His honourable deed by going to church and snoring 15 times a day. Yeah, because my snores add that special touch to worship that JC just can't survive without. Told you I'm special.

So after finding a suitable place to park the dinosaur's dinosaur (i.e. not in the middle of the street), my driver stops a cab and takes me to work. Cabs in Cairo are not fun. They are dirty, broken-down and smelly. Not suitable for a girl in a summer dress and red ballerinas.

I get to work hot, sticky, probably smelly and seriously pissed off.

BUT, on the bright side, I fix the links problems when my boss shows me how and do everything he asks for. Correctly! When I'm done (this is around 3:30pm), he decided he wants more stuff. And this stuff is IMPOSSIBLE to fit in the same table. Which is exactly what he wants.

So bang your head on the 6 rocks and 12 hard places you're squished between, Eureka. Because this will be another loooong night.

I soldier on.

And on.

And on and on.

And at 7pm, I whimper uncle. I tell him it cannot be done. What does he say?

"It's ok, we'll talk about it tomorrow."

So I could have given up at 5 and gone home.

And I have to go through all this again tomorrow. Which incidentally is a public holiday but my company decided not to take it off.

BASTARDS.

Oh, but wait... I love my job.

Don't I?