So I'm at day four of being-practically-locked-in-someone's office, and I can tell you, it doesn't suit me. It's bad for my skin.
No, really, it's bad for my skin, the airconditioning is playing havoc with my lenses, and when it doesn't work, it's shvitzing. I have taken to carrying a fan (old fashioned paper type) in my handbag, a hangover from my Singaporean days (look out for my new bestseller, Tales from Singapore).
The IT people don't like me because I'm a freelancer, so it's not worth fixing stuff for me. So, boring, I know, but because this is a regular client, I have an old email address from their old system, and a new email address they gave me on Monday. My old email address is in the address book, so everyone who emailed me for two days, it just went to the ether, and I spent all my time calling up people internally and saying "sorry to bother you, did you send me mail?" which is not a great way to start a project. Then I diagnose the problem, asked the IT bloked to forward old mail to new mail, and he sets it up with a typo, so it still doesn't work. I ask him again, he gets me a print out to show me the "user error". It takes me another day to persuade him the user error might be his.
Sheesh. This is work in the twentyfirst century. It's all about being nice to the people with the real power, because they decide how easy it is to do your job.
The project? It's great. I'm loving it. The commuting? I could live without.
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