I am bloody well frazzled

Thank all the Gods that Be that the week is over and I haven’t yet killed anyone.  It was a near thing today in training class, between the cross-chatter from other students that made it almost impossible for me to understand the instructor as he went over the midterm (I got a 76, which wasn’t nearly as good as it should have been, but it was at least a passing grade), and the flailings of the guy who sits next me, a Philadelphia lawyer who insists on trying to create boundary cases in which the policies and methods we’re taught in class might possibly not work, and who delights in trying to argue that black is white and the wrong answers he gave on the tests (’scuse me—they’re “knowledge checks,” not tests) were actually right.  His hobbyhorse today was that he got exercised because some customer might call us claiming that he never got some part or another that we shipped (e.g., a monitor) even though he did, and we’d send the customer another monitor to which he wasn’t entitled.  By the end, I was having to restrain myself from standing up and screaming at him, “YOU’RE NOT THE FUCKING COPS!  THAT’S NOT IN YOUR CHRISTLY JOB DESCRIPTION!  LEAVE IT TO INTERNAL AUDIT AND THE SHIPPERS, WHOSE JOB IT REALLY IS, AND CONFINE YOURSELF TO DIAGNOSING THEIR GODDAMNED COMPUTER PROBLEMS, WHICH IS IN YOUR MOTHERFUCKIN’ JOB DESCRIPTION!!”  I managed not to scream at him, but I think I strained something.

The instructors are not controlling our class at all, and I’m getting very frustrated with it.  Although I have said plainly that I have problems trying to hear and understand when there is cross-chat in the room, they let it go almost unchecked, and neither has the stentorian voice needed to shout down the jabberers, and they also skim over material that needs to be covered much more thoroughly.  It’s more than frustrating for a SOTA like me, who came there to learn all he could as quickly as he could, and my instructor evaluations are beginning to show that.  I’m no longer pulling my punches and giving “Satisfied” or “Very satisfied” answers to questions, instead of “Neutral” or “Dissatisfied,” and my freeform comment fields are beginning to fill up.

We’re getting up lots earlier than I want to tomorrow and making a flying trip to Comanche to bring back the pickup.  Mother told me that according to Brother-from-Hell, there’s something or another significantly wrong with or worn out about the transmission which makes it unreliable, and she wants to me call him and find out what it’s about since she didn’t understand his explanation.  Like I’m ever going to call him again, no matter WHAT the reason.  Sunday is gonna have to be raking the yard and picking up pecans.  Maybe I can get L and M to help with the picking-up while I rake.

I unexpectedly ran into Unka Phaed yesterday as I was waiting for an elevator to take me upstairs for my first call laboratory, where I was taking live support calls under supervision.  I didn’t do so badly as I might have there; I did need help with the mechanics of dispatching parts and forgot some other mechanical tidbits I’ll have to make sure to learn properly before I onstage, but I didn’t get stuck without an answer to the problem on any of the calls I took.

It’s far too late for more coherent thought now.  About all I can remember is that TerribleLynne and I are supposed to be going to buy a goose for Thanksgiving sometime Sunday.  More anon.

The mauve brewery paves a sinister ostrich refractively.  Fnord.