28th March, 2002.

"I can't find this information in the file!"

"Have you looked anywhere else for it?"

"I guess I'll have to, won't I?"

Pause.

"Can you tell I'm not running on all cylinders today?"

Which is, quite frankly, terrifying. If she thinks she's not performing to her usual standards, what am I going to be afflicted with today?

---

Snap quiz time again:

Someone delegates a task to you, asking you to take care of it and let the client know the outcome. Do you:

1. Do as requested; or
2. Find the information, deliver it to me verbally and then ask me to pass it back to the client when I'm very obviously in the middle of trying to do something else?
3.  

---

The Cow-orker Conspiracy Factory gains further momentum today when a few badly-chosen words by an individual elsewhere in our division provoke a storm of criticism of the division as a whole. After weighing up all the issues in the debate, the Cow-orker reaches the conclusion that this was all foreseen by our division's director, who had carefully chosen this time to be absent rather than be around where he could have prevented the situation arising. The glaring hole in this theory, of course, is motive - why would our supreme leader abandon us to a brutal PR pasting when a simple message or two from him could have defused the entire situation? But like all good conspiracies, this one, too, is proof against reason.

"He must have known this would happen!" she repeats.

Yes, and JFK deliberately chose that day to go for a drive without his bullet-proof helmet...

---

While a furious debate rages on an e-mail discussion list, the Cow-orker observes: "It's an interesting distinction, isn't it? If you spam this list with something that doesn't belong there, people just get so upset, but this is something people are concerned about and no-one is complaining about the volume of posts! You have to laugh at the mindset..."

Naturally the Cow-orker's own thoughts on the issue (which has heavy implications for the autonomy of other divisions within our organisation) are as conciliatory as you might expect, as she burns with a crusader's zeal to go out amongst the godless heathens, lay waste to their internal IT infrastructure with fire and sword and inform they're all idiots and that THIS IS HOW IT'S GOING TO BE, BY GOD!

Luckily our manager had the foresight to pre-emptively muzzle her as soon as this even looked like becoming an issue. Surprisingly, she obeys.

---

27th March, 2002.

Cow-orker discovers that I was on a management training course this week, but rather than ask me directly goes to our manager to check up: Why is he doing this? Did he tell you why he was going?

The Cow-orker Conspiracy Factory begins gearing up for production, when the simple answer is that I opted for Management Training because Animal Handling wasn't on offer.

26th March, 2002.

Memo to Cow-orker:

When I assign a task to you with the words "I don't know where we get this from or what it is, can you look into it for me?", a normal person would realise the futility of asking me these very things;

I don't need to know (nor am I interested in knowing) about the number of people you saw almost get run down on the way into work. I'm similarly disinterested in hearing your loud cries of moral indignation on this matter;

Contrary to your expectations, no, I'm *not* surprised that there are people who can talk with such ferocity that they become oblivious to their surroundings;

Yes, the air-conditioning is stuffy in here today. No, I don't need you to tell give me a room-by-room analysis of how stuffy it is relative to everyone else's air-conditioning. No, really. I mean it. Don't make me put this letter opener somewhere I'm not going to be able to get it back from in a hurry if I need it;

When I sit in front of the computer tapping my fingers on the keyboard to make letters appear on the screen? That's called "being occupied". I know it might sound like a looped Morse code message saying "come and tell me about everything you've done in the last 24 hours", but it isn't. You'd be surprised how many people make that mistake;

I may look as though I'm uninterested in what you have to say and am letting my mind wander on to happier things, but that's only because I find it hard to maintain my expression of polite interest while slipping into unconsciousness. By no means should you take this as a hint to stop your relentless assault on my senses.

---

"This order is ambiguous. Which of these two contradictory quantities should I supply them with?"

"Have you rung them to clarify what they want?"

"Sigh! It's never easy, is it?"

---

"Does this product need an activation code?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because they didn't build it to need one."

"Why?" 

No idea. Would you like me to call that nice Mr Gates and ask him personally for you?

---

25th March, 2002.

"Look at the $2.00 hair band my mother bought me! Isn't it so cool?"
I am but one victim of many...

---

Of *course* I know that - it was in the email I just sent you that you've come around to my desk to tell me about! Don't try to tell me I sent you the wrong information when the "right" information you're reading back to me is what I sent you in the first place!

---

22nd March, 2002.

"Do you have any idea how hard it's going to be to ask someone for a copy of that?"

Not as hard as it's going to be to argue with someone about what it says when they have a copy in front of them and you don't. Stupid, stupid person.

21st March, 2002.

SECURITY ALERT

Attention security, we have a proprietary information breach in Sector 12. Suspect is in the process of describing to outside sources how they plan to single-handedly raise our organisation's public image to unprecedented heights.

Enviornmental catastrophe imminent if methane emissions are not curbed immediately. Use of lethal force has been approved. 

---

20th March, 2002.

I think the Cow-orker must suffer from Tourette's Syndrome, as I can't think of many other reasons as to why she thinks people need to know what parts of the building she used to use to express breast milk when she came back from maternity leave the last time.

I think I need to declare war on someone so I can claim rights under the Geneva Convention and escape this cruel and unusual punishment.

---

A secondary Cow-orker, which had seemed to be in remission, just spent ten minutes telling me what was wrong with this country.

Too many Asians taking everyone's jobs, too many mothers in the workforce who should be staying at home minding the kids or (if they have school-age kids) should only be working while the kids are at school, too many greedy wives in the workforce who don't need the money because their husbands already earn enough for their family...

It's been suggested that I try pointing the primary and secondary Cow-orkers at one another in the hope that they cancel each other out, but I'm too afraid we'd get some kind of self-sustaining Cow-orker reaction that would doom us all.

Cow-orker China Syndrome. Scary.

---

18th March, 2002.

This happened *literally* within two minutes of her getting in this morning.

"I have to order this equipment for someone. I've got quotes from the supplier I really really like [the "you guys kick arse" one] and another supplier that I like, but not as much because they won't spend hours talking to me on the phone. Should I order through the ones I don't like as much, even though they're cheaper?"

"Well, yes." Duh.

"See, I thought I could just rung up the suppliers I really like and ask them to tack this extra equipment on to an order we already have with them."

"No, you know we can't do that. The purchasing policies we have to work with won't let us, and accounts won't pay it."

"But when I rang them to do this -"

Hellooooo!!! Is anyone home? Did someone evacuate Planet Cow-orker when I wasn't looking?

"- they'd already placed our order with their suppliers and they couldn't do it anyway. So what should I do?"

"Put an order in with the cheaper suppliers."

"So should I start getting an order organised for the cheaper ones, then?"

I'm confused. Should I be thumping my head against the desk at this point, or hers?

---

Ten minutes later.

"Let me tell you all about the phone call my mother had from my godmother this morning about her daughter's upcoming wedding."

A point! A point! My kingdom for a point!

I'm now experiencing a new "personal best" for fastest induced stress headache.

---

15th March, 2002.

Either I'm suffering a lot of severe memory lapses or the Cow-orker's hearing voices again. I've just been told I pointed out something to her that, until she mentioned it then, I'd been completely oblivious to.

---

Had the great pleasure of listening to our manager trying to discuss something with the Cow-orker which the latter had some very strong opinions about. The highlight was undoubtably the manager's request the Cow-orker "stop ranting".

---

No! NO! We give them one CD, not two! How many goddamn times do you have to ask me this question before you'll remember the answer?

---

14th March, 2002.

"I hate this form! I think you were right -"

Hold that pose while I get a camera to capture the moment. Or a taxidermist.
" - they didn't give any thought to what anyone actually needed to do with it, and just made up one that matched what they needed and didn't take anyone else into consideration!"

I said that? I seem to say a lot of things I don't remember saying. Are you sure it really was me and not just the Voices again?

"Well actually the form works for 95% of the people in the building. It just doesn't work for us, which is why they let us use the workaround we came up with when you raised this [ranted about this] last time. Just print off our version like we did for the last six orders, staple the official form to the front like we did for the last six orders, and write see attached on it. Like we did for THE LAST SIX ORDERS."

"The form's completely useless!"

Damn, too late for the taxidermist. Normal service has been resumed.

"What are we going to do? Can we get a database developer in to modify the database so it can print out the form when we generate an order request?"

"We don't need to do that. We just use the workaround that's already been approved, that requires minimal fuss, and that doesn't require a couple of thousand dollars worth of modifications to the database. It's not a problem. We've already dealt with the form's limitations and have been given the official OK to do it this way."

"This form's no good at all! Why didn't they consult us before they brought it in to use?"

Gee, I don't know. Maybe because they've met you?

"How are we going to raise this order when our database system just doesn't use the same format as this form?"

I abandon my efforts to convince her that she's met and overcome this hiccup before. Clearly it's time for some decisive action. "Okay, what we'll do is just print off the standard form we use, staple their form to the front with the appropriate signatures and write see attached in the rest of the fields."

"I guess that's all we can do, isn't it? Are you sure that will work?"

"Trust me."

Cow-orker returns to her desk (and I congratulate myself for the thousandth time for having the foresight to hide the spare chair) and before she can think of any fresh objections I'm out the door and on my way for a sanity break.

---

Cow-orker insisted on coming along to a presentation that had nothing to do with her and which was dealing with things she doesn't fully grasp.

Unsurprisingly her main contribution was to extol the virtues of her Spawn to a pair of complete strangers, who I'm sure don't mind flying interstate to hear how not only can an eighteen-month old child walk and say single words, but it can pinch toys from other children, too, because "she's spoiled rotten".

That, incidentally, is one of the reasons the Cow-orker is giving for having another child - somehow it will prevent the incumbent Spawn from becoming even more spoilt. Because de-regulation has worked so well in so many other arenas, after all...

---

"Why won't the systems security guys tell me what kind of data they look after for people?"

"Because you don't need to know."

This is a recurring issue - Cow-orker doesn't deal well with working in a "need to know" environment. She wants to know everything that's happening, even if it's totally unrelated to her. This in itself wouldn't be a problem, except that not only does the additional information drives out the stuff she does need to know, she makes wild extrapolations based on things she's not familiar with and doesn't have enough discretion not to run around sharing her conclusions with everyone.

"But why do they want it encrypted? What can they have that's so important? I don't understand why they're being so paranoid!"

"It's their job, for one thing. They get a lot of information from external clients about their computer security setup, the type of data they have, how it's stored and encrypted, where it's stored... You know - confidential stuff."

"But why won't they tell me? What's the big deal?"

Repeat after me: "Their job. Computer security. Confidential information. Corporate clients. Government clients. *Law enforcement* clients. Non-disclosure agreements. Breach of contract." Any of this making sense yet? Now leave me alone!

"I asked him straight out what sort of data they were protecting, and he just danced around the issue!"

No, actually, he told you everything I just told you. What did you think he was going to do? People's tax file numbers? Their financial details? Criminal records?

"I don't understand why they're being so paranoid about all this!"

At last the phone rings - saved! When it becomes clear that it's not going to be a quick call, and with no place to sit down and wait, the Cow-orker decides to call a supplier and tell them her troubles instead.

Either our suppliers don't have Caller ID, or they really value our business.

---

12th March, 2002. 

The Cow-orker is on a maternal kick at the moment which is threatening to reach crisis proportions. There are only so many times you can have the same picture of the same unattractive child waved in your face before you have to start biting your lip to refrain from denouncing the baby as having a face like a collagen-injected Pug, and hair like Harpo Marx.

11th March, 2002.

I was warned, but I didn't listen and was struck down by Cow-orker foot odour whilst on my coffee break. Next time I'll know better and heed the warnings of others.

8th March, 2002.

The Orker-of-Cows is still absent, but in the three and a half days I've been answering her phone I've made an interesting discovery: she gets only three or four work-related phone calls a day. No more. Which makes her feat of spending half the day on the phone telling strangers everything they never needed to know about the inner workings of our organisation (and her family) all the more remarkable. It's one thing to be aware that she's spending a lot of time on the phone that has nothing to do with work; it's another entirely to find out just how much time that actually is.

It's starting to look like she really doesn't have anything to do during the day except talk loudly down the phone and annoy me.

6th March, 2002.

Woo-hoo! A Cow-orker free day! And I was feeling especially fragile this morning, too. I can't believe how much my mood has improved just from the absence of one person.

The concern of my workmates is touching - one of them has offered to come over to my desk and start babbling at me if I feel lonely, which made me and my manager laugh out loud, so obviously everyone's enjoying the holiday spirit of the day.

---

Gone but not forgotten...

My manager and I spent several minutes revisiting some of the Cow-orker highlights of the last year or so ("Cow-orker Classics", I suppose you could call them). My manager hadn't heard about some of the more surreal efforts and laughed so hard he was crying. For my part, I was alerted to some things that had escaped my notice up until now, such as the Cow-orker's propensity for wearing too-revealing clothes in the most inappropriate circumstances (and with the most inappropriate body posture), and the threat of lethal foot odour. Now I know to be doubly careful when the Cow-orker kicks back and puts her feet up on the desk.

Workplace bonding is a wonderful thing.

5th March, 2002.

Eeeuuhh!!! Cow-orker discussing intimate medical issues with her doctor over the phone. Too much detail!!!

---

Eeeewwww!!! Eeeeewwwwwwwwww!!!! Stop it!!!!!!! An hour of this is way more than I should have to put up with!

---

Prescription sunglasses, you say? And they're called that because they're sunglasses that have prescription lenses in them? How extraordinary! And the prescription is the same one you use in your regular, indoor glasses? The world is just full of amazing coincidences, isn't it? And you say that looking through them is just like looking through your normal glasses, but everything's darker? Well who'd have thought that tinted lenses would do such a thing. And yes, while you're at it, please tell me all about your health-care plan... It's only my lunch break, and it isn't like I was planning to go away from my desk and eat or anything...

1st March, 2002.

Hooray. The Cow-orker has finally realised that she needs to document how to do her job so that when people aren't here they can see what she does all day. Either that or (more likely) our manager has finally managed to impress upon her that telling us "everything you need to know is in Outlook" is inadequate. Now she's complaining about having to do a massive catch-up job on something she's been avoiding doing for years.

I'm particularly looking forward to reading the chapter on "Annoying The Crap Out Of The Person I'm Supposed To Be Assisting", if only to see how closely her processes confirm to her practices.

---

An exchange between the Cow-orker and a workmate who happened to be passing through our area. Cow-orker has just discovered that this workmate can convert numbers to binary figures in his head:

"Wow, that's amazing! Anyone else would just go and look it up, or use a calculator! No-one actually tries to work things out for themselves anymore these days, they just want to be spoon-fed everything."

She looks back at her work briefly, before shouting across the room to me.

"Hey! Whereabouts do I find this client in our searchable database?"