so one of our big customers has a personnel change. all certifications since January lost because they don’t have the certs in a central location, and they don’t check for certs until they get audited.
our warehouse often ships product without certs, even though certs are required on the order. they ship them, and they don’t bother sending me the order to certify.
so six months later the customer is asking for us to re-send certs, which is fine (idiots) except it seems that we didn’t certify three of the orders. (i'm surprised it was only three.)
NONE of this is my fault, or is even under my control. but the shit still finds a way to my desk – a lovely fax at 3:45 yesterday afternoon (customer is in California) with a list of 13 orders for which the customer needs certifications.
this isn’t a piddling little $2k-a-year customer, either. this is a customer whose business is keeping our outdated doors open. and no one in the warehouse (at another plant; we wouldn’t have this problem here, we’re too small) gives a flying flip about it – after all, it’s not really their customer, you know?
*note: SB Gypsy would fix this in half a heartbeat. wanna come to the mountains and beat the snot out of the other warehouse for me, SB?
so i’m digging through our records trying not to grit my teeth at the absurdity of this and Chatty Co-Worker (bless her heart) has a question. as usual, she asks it as soon as it occurs to her, without the courtesy of saying, “hey andi, do you have a second?” which would allow me the space to say, “just give me a half an hour to get these certs out and i’ll come see you, ok?” no, i have to stop my magic data excavation trick to open another database and find something that she could have found in five minutes, had she made an effort. instead she not only interrupts, but comes around my desk to look over my shoulder at the computer screen, completely violating my three-foot comfort zone. (which is, to be honest, about 3 yards today.)
and not five minutes later she asks me something else inane, like, “do you know where they moved the [insert name of cell phone company] place? i gotta go pay t’s internet thing.”
apparently the pounding of my fingers on the keyboard is not a deterrent.
PMS sucks.
that.
is.
all.
1 comment:
Certs! gawd, dontcha hate that. We have a couple of companies that "require" them, but never actually ask for them unless they are being audited, so then they send me a list, and I end up probably doing more work digging up all the info!
And the stupid thing is, if we had made the electrode out of the wrong material, it would not have worked, so getting certs 6 months later is kinda silly, if you think about it.
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