I have had the most ridiculous two days.
Yesterday my work PC was scheduled in for some special attention. It's an old fart of a machine and it's been failing me lately. So I had to lug the beast in via cab and work from (gasp!) the office.
I tried to get set up at a makeshift work station, but the there was a hardware issue, and when I tried to work around it (Which took an hour), I couldn't make the actual station comfortable. I was too short and my elbows were raised up with my wrists at a weirdo position and I knew I couldn't go another five minutes like that.
So we tried the transcription laptop. But then I couldn't connect to the server. So I had to work at another station, and then my software wouldn't open because a piece of necessary hardware was missing.
Blah, blah, blah, right? Well, we took the hardware out of my computer, plunked into this one and I was finally able to work. I went home with my old computer and waited for the Dude to get home to reconnect things for me. And then I found out I was locked out of my email (This happens all the time) and I'd have to wait till the morning to get that resolved.
So I get this small allergy attack and I nip it in the bud with two allergy pills, which destroyed me in a good way and I passed out (I'm super susceptible to any sort of substances. They all tend to affect me heavily). Unfortunately, I forgot to set the alarm.
The Dude sprang out of bed this morning and woke up on time in a panic, but I lapsed back into a coma. Without needing to turn off the alarm, I wasn't prompted to reset it for myself.
So I woke up at noon. NOON! It was 12:00 p.m. and I still hadn't dealt with my email, which meant I hadn't gotten to my work assignment, which I needed to read to download the video I'd require to actually start work. And I had a work meeting at 1:30, which I'd need to leave for at 1:00. Basically, holy crap.
I got everything handled by 12:30 and figured I may as well try to do something before I left. Well, that didn't really work out so well because the hardware I needed to run the godforsaken software was still back at the office inserted in another computer.
Thankfully, I had to go into the office anyway, right? The meeting ended around 3:30 and I left at 4:30 after catching up with my coworkers. I walked home, taking the opportunity for exercise, and got right to my computer. That would have resulted in me finally getting some work done at 6:00 p.m. if only I had remembered to get my hardware out of the other computer.
So I called someone in admin, who was awesome enough to bring it to the closest subway station en route home. I got it at 7:00.
What a day. What a couple of days. I worked on my show for about two hours before deciding to throw in the towel and just allow tomorrow to suck while I got caught up.
And to top it off, Bea snuck in the closet this afternoon while I was getting dressed to go. She inadvertently got locked in the closet for five hours while I was gone.
Sigh.
Showing posts with label closed captioning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label closed captioning. Show all posts
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Training for...?
I think my favourite job I ever had as a teenager was working at a hot dog cart.
I was 16 years old and my dad knew this guy from one of the bars he frequented. They talked it over and my dad arranged for me to work for this guy. He had a gray mullet and tucked his T-shirts into his shorts. But the pay was good and the work was easy. I sat on a stool under an umbrella, hanging out in nice weather at the park, grilling up hot dogs while the owner got drunk nearby. Then my best friend got a job with him and sometimes on busy days we could work together.
However, the man was a pervert and an ass. He paid me less money than the other girls, for no other apparent reason than I was, let's say, less womanly looking. He didn't observe our work, nor count the money before deciding that I should get $20 less for my day's work than my bustier co-workers.
After a fashion, I (accidentally) ruined one of his carts. Pretty sure it was an accident and not a subconscious FU to his sexist employment practices. But maybe it wasn't. But let's say it was. The assholery aside, it was still a fun job.
The worst job I ever had probably was when I was a chamber maid at the Day's Inn. My boss was a harried sort of person. She looked like she had been there a long time and had grown bitter with life. We were given 18 rooms to do a day, which meant 22 minutes per room. Yes, 22 minutes. This lead to a lot of stress. To make the deadline, sometimes I haphazardly wiped a used tub with a used towel as a means of cleaning it because I only had 3 minutes left to finish the room and about 10 minutes of work left.
This sometimes got me called back into a room to take care of a ring or some soap scum. But it's pretty shocking how frequently I got away with it. But then when you got yelled at for getting behind because you did take the extra time to do it right, you tend to make those sorts of choices. Also, a supervisor liked to go ahead to all the rooms before me, and somehow when she was working I never got tipped. Good times. The pay was also ass.
The actual work was gruelling and demanding. It had me aching and hating life each day. I got in better shape for it, though. And I got really fast at housework.
The longest job I ever held, which is closely going to be tied by my current one, was at a pita place my aunt and uncle owned. I started when I was 15. My mother was very insistent I work, my father organized this opportunity for me as well, and it all kind of just happened.
I worked there off and on, but mostly on all through high school. My cousins were in charge of me and I gave them a hard time for shits and giggles. I ate a lot of pitas. I drank countless litres of free fountain pop. By the end of high school I was 18 and I moved away. But they always got me back when I came home for reading week, Christmas, Easter, and some days in the summer.
One day my uncle convinced me to work an evening shift for him after my day shift at the Day's Inn. He came to pick me up from work to go to work and I was ready for a nap. I had a small crying fit from exhaustion in the front of the store. One of my cousins came up front and saw me laughing and sobbing in the corner near the pita steamer and didn't seem to know what to do about it. I didn't try it again.
I once worked for free (internship) at a wedding magazine. Despite the fact the pay sucked (har har), it was in many ways my dream job. I wrote about topics that were easygoing, researched topics that were mellow and pretty, and worked with women who liked their jobs. They talked me out of dressing like a slob, I got to take home hundreds of dollars worth of beauty swag from the closet and sometimes we went shopping when my boss felt like the time was right. It only lasted three months. There were no openings, and we knew my time was no longer needed when all my boss could offer me to do was organize her Rolodex. I was 21.
I was 22 when I started the job I have now. I took some time off to travel. Then I goofed around and barely looked for work until something in closed captioning fell in my lap. I've spent the last five and a half years transcribing television shows. Now I do it in my pyjamas from home. Sometimes I wonder how long this will last. My work experience doesn't exactly offer me a lot of options: Making hot dogs and pitas, cleaning up, researching how to get married and watching TV.
Thinking on it, the picture that paints is kind of depressing, isn't it?
I was 16 years old and my dad knew this guy from one of the bars he frequented. They talked it over and my dad arranged for me to work for this guy. He had a gray mullet and tucked his T-shirts into his shorts. But the pay was good and the work was easy. I sat on a stool under an umbrella, hanging out in nice weather at the park, grilling up hot dogs while the owner got drunk nearby. Then my best friend got a job with him and sometimes on busy days we could work together.
However, the man was a pervert and an ass. He paid me less money than the other girls, for no other apparent reason than I was, let's say, less womanly looking. He didn't observe our work, nor count the money before deciding that I should get $20 less for my day's work than my bustier co-workers.
After a fashion, I (accidentally) ruined one of his carts. Pretty sure it was an accident and not a subconscious FU to his sexist employment practices. But maybe it wasn't. But let's say it was. The assholery aside, it was still a fun job.
The worst job I ever had probably was when I was a chamber maid at the Day's Inn. My boss was a harried sort of person. She looked like she had been there a long time and had grown bitter with life. We were given 18 rooms to do a day, which meant 22 minutes per room. Yes, 22 minutes. This lead to a lot of stress. To make the deadline, sometimes I haphazardly wiped a used tub with a used towel as a means of cleaning it because I only had 3 minutes left to finish the room and about 10 minutes of work left.
This sometimes got me called back into a room to take care of a ring or some soap scum. But it's pretty shocking how frequently I got away with it. But then when you got yelled at for getting behind because you did take the extra time to do it right, you tend to make those sorts of choices. Also, a supervisor liked to go ahead to all the rooms before me, and somehow when she was working I never got tipped. Good times. The pay was also ass.
The actual work was gruelling and demanding. It had me aching and hating life each day. I got in better shape for it, though. And I got really fast at housework.
The longest job I ever held, which is closely going to be tied by my current one, was at a pita place my aunt and uncle owned. I started when I was 15. My mother was very insistent I work, my father organized this opportunity for me as well, and it all kind of just happened.
I worked there off and on, but mostly on all through high school. My cousins were in charge of me and I gave them a hard time for shits and giggles. I ate a lot of pitas. I drank countless litres of free fountain pop. By the end of high school I was 18 and I moved away. But they always got me back when I came home for reading week, Christmas, Easter, and some days in the summer.
One day my uncle convinced me to work an evening shift for him after my day shift at the Day's Inn. He came to pick me up from work to go to work and I was ready for a nap. I had a small crying fit from exhaustion in the front of the store. One of my cousins came up front and saw me laughing and sobbing in the corner near the pita steamer and didn't seem to know what to do about it. I didn't try it again.
I once worked for free (internship) at a wedding magazine. Despite the fact the pay sucked (har har), it was in many ways my dream job. I wrote about topics that were easygoing, researched topics that were mellow and pretty, and worked with women who liked their jobs. They talked me out of dressing like a slob, I got to take home hundreds of dollars worth of beauty swag from the closet and sometimes we went shopping when my boss felt like the time was right. It only lasted three months. There were no openings, and we knew my time was no longer needed when all my boss could offer me to do was organize her Rolodex. I was 21.
I was 22 when I started the job I have now. I took some time off to travel. Then I goofed around and barely looked for work until something in closed captioning fell in my lap. I've spent the last five and a half years transcribing television shows. Now I do it in my pyjamas from home. Sometimes I wonder how long this will last. My work experience doesn't exactly offer me a lot of options: Making hot dogs and pitas, cleaning up, researching how to get married and watching TV.
Thinking on it, the picture that paints is kind of depressing, isn't it?
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Work in the outside world
Today I ventured out to work for the first time in over a year. We had a meeting. It was a pretty big deal, actually, because this department of 20 people never see each other anymore. Everyone was very subtly different, mostly hair related, though a couple people looked more well rested.
We did a round table of a brief recap of how our year has been. There was a marriage, an impending move to Australia (Which may or may not open a new position at work), family changes, creative works completed, and all sorts of other little items of interest.
I didn't know what to tell specifically, so I mentioned that I had moved again for the fifth time in five years, that I had to send my fed-up family yet another new address for me, and that I now inject my cat Smokey with insulin twice a day and he likes it. I imitated him to illustrate my point and said, "Meow, shot, meow!" And then I retracted and said that my cat didn't talk to me, but that I imagine he would say something like that if he could.
And then I was reminded of why I sometimes miss my co-workers, because it's not every group of people that would hear such a loopy anecdote and laugh, never mind still want to talk to me.
But about this job opening, which may or may not exist depending on the powers that be who will decide if we need a replacement or not. If it were to become available, it would be a promotion/pay raise. And the only way to get either of these things in this department is for just such an occasion to arise: someone has to quit. And in the five years (Holy shit) that I've been there, I've only seen four people leave. Two were slightly involuntary, I think, due to company changes. Turnover is very slow. People generally love this job and grip on tight.
And I've reached the end of my pay scale. I'm earning as much as this job will pay, without moving up. And I'd like to move up in some way. I'm hoping this little window might be my chance.
We did a round table of a brief recap of how our year has been. There was a marriage, an impending move to Australia (Which may or may not open a new position at work), family changes, creative works completed, and all sorts of other little items of interest.
I didn't know what to tell specifically, so I mentioned that I had moved again for the fifth time in five years, that I had to send my fed-up family yet another new address for me, and that I now inject my cat Smokey with insulin twice a day and he likes it. I imitated him to illustrate my point and said, "Meow, shot, meow!" And then I retracted and said that my cat didn't talk to me, but that I imagine he would say something like that if he could.
And then I was reminded of why I sometimes miss my co-workers, because it's not every group of people that would hear such a loopy anecdote and laugh, never mind still want to talk to me.
But about this job opening, which may or may not exist depending on the powers that be who will decide if we need a replacement or not. If it were to become available, it would be a promotion/pay raise. And the only way to get either of these things in this department is for just such an occasion to arise: someone has to quit. And in the five years (Holy shit) that I've been there, I've only seen four people leave. Two were slightly involuntary, I think, due to company changes. Turnover is very slow. People generally love this job and grip on tight.
And I've reached the end of my pay scale. I'm earning as much as this job will pay, without moving up. And I'd like to move up in some way. I'm hoping this little window might be my chance.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Caption the fun
As I mentioned in my last post, I'm at the lake and in the company of 30-somethings. I was, anyway. They drove off into the horizon not long ago.
The morning was spent discussing the career of the married man. There was a round table discussion, as most there had careers which were well in place. There was mention of blogging your company's progress and inspirations, creating a bio for potential clients and what sort of photo such a bio should have.
The Dude is beginning just such a career in photography. I have no such thing. My job is to watch television at home. This in many ways is what I would have put down as my dream job when as a child I was asked what I wanted to do when I grew up, had I known this would actually be a option. My mother had always insisted to me that it was not an option when she wanted me to be more productive with my time.
I do closed captioning. I've been doing closed captioning since I was 22. In fact I was hired just prior to my 22nd birthday. I'm in my fifth year of this profession. I need not advertise, I don't have to keep samples of my work. Hell, I can turn on the TV and find samples of my work any time.
I never thought I would be doing this sort of thing for a living. I used to have to at least leave the house and go to an office. Now that's a thing of the past and I live in my pyjamas and every time I go out of doors, it's kind of an event. I will carefully select an outfit, apply makeup and mosey around until I'm good and ready to make an appearance to the world, which will not notice what I look like anyway because this is Toronto and no one notices anything about anybody. But still.
By now doing closed captioning is terribly easy for me. I still have an entry level position and would enjoy some new challenges. As it is, I can churn out my work at top speed and sit back and marvel that I'm getting paid for this. I use dictation and can now speak in grammar, "Hi comma have you been waiting long question mark new line no comma not really period new line." I sometimes "caption" real life to annoy the Dude, repeating everything he says in caption speak. In absence of him providing me any material, which usually follows him saying, "Shut up! Stop it!", I then "caption" various noises around us.
"Shut up exclamation point stop it exclamation point"
(Footsteps)
(Groaning)
(Chuckling)
"Knock it off exclamation point"
(Sighing)
(Pause)
(Extended pause)
(Traffic din)
(Exasperated sigh)
"I hate you period"
(Chortling)
One finds one amusements where one can period
The morning was spent discussing the career of the married man. There was a round table discussion, as most there had careers which were well in place. There was mention of blogging your company's progress and inspirations, creating a bio for potential clients and what sort of photo such a bio should have.
The Dude is beginning just such a career in photography. I have no such thing. My job is to watch television at home. This in many ways is what I would have put down as my dream job when as a child I was asked what I wanted to do when I grew up, had I known this would actually be a option. My mother had always insisted to me that it was not an option when she wanted me to be more productive with my time.
I do closed captioning. I've been doing closed captioning since I was 22. In fact I was hired just prior to my 22nd birthday. I'm in my fifth year of this profession. I need not advertise, I don't have to keep samples of my work. Hell, I can turn on the TV and find samples of my work any time.
I never thought I would be doing this sort of thing for a living. I used to have to at least leave the house and go to an office. Now that's a thing of the past and I live in my pyjamas and every time I go out of doors, it's kind of an event. I will carefully select an outfit, apply makeup and mosey around until I'm good and ready to make an appearance to the world, which will not notice what I look like anyway because this is Toronto and no one notices anything about anybody. But still.
By now doing closed captioning is terribly easy for me. I still have an entry level position and would enjoy some new challenges. As it is, I can churn out my work at top speed and sit back and marvel that I'm getting paid for this. I use dictation and can now speak in grammar, "Hi comma have you been waiting long question mark new line no comma not really period new line." I sometimes "caption" real life to annoy the Dude, repeating everything he says in caption speak. In absence of him providing me any material, which usually follows him saying, "Shut up! Stop it!", I then "caption" various noises around us.
"Shut up exclamation point stop it exclamation point"
(Footsteps)
(Groaning)
(Chuckling)
"Knock it off exclamation point"
(Sighing)
(Pause)
(Extended pause)
(Traffic din)
(Exasperated sigh)
"I hate you period"
(Chortling)
One finds one amusements where one can period
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