The Last Last Minute

Waldo, our web designer, has a reputation for functioning in the red zone.  If something’s due Friday at 5pm, he might have it done by the following Tuesday — if you hassle him about it a lot.  If there’s no blistering deadline, it will happen in “n+15″ days, which in metric, probably translates to “when porcine aviation transacts.”

And unlike our previous web designer, the stuff Waldo delivers … late … is crap.  For example, we did a product re-launch of our new heated toilet seat line.  The venue for this launch is engraved in granite, laminated with gold, then placed in a tasteful pearl setting.  In other words, there was no ambiguity… because we’re sending a half the company to this event.

Waldo had been working on our web site.  The October launch date soon became Octobuary.   It went online the same day as our announcement.  Not only was the content unencumbered by “facts” or “vetting with the people who know,” there was no capacity planning of site infrastructure.  After alcohol helped analysis and customers process Cliff’s big announcement, they hit our site.  If more than three wanted to access “content,” the server shat itself.  A hilarious game of “Where’s Waldo” ensued.

And here we are in June.  Waldo is coordinating a marketing event that I drew the short straw for.  He was supposed to have a stack of pre-copied lead generation forms done weeks ago.  Friday, he comes in:

Waldo: “Will you be staying late today [Friday]?”

Captain Sarcastic: “No fucking way, Waldo.  I’ve been sick all week.  I only came in today to pick up [these stupid fucking forms]”

Waldo: “Oh, well, then I’ll have them done this evening.  You can just pick them up tomorrow.  Or whenever you’re on the way to the airport.”

This morning, I’m already radiating anti-joy beams because:

1. I have to come into the office on a Saturday…
2. because I’m going to a marketing event…
3. that’s going to take all Sunday to fly to…
4. and I’m feeling ill.  [When I can stop coughing long enough to talk, my voice is three octaves lower than normal, giving me the super power of causing oobleck locomotion. (This is arguably very cool, just don't ask me to repeat what I said.)]
5. and the asshats sponsoring the event scheduled the opening for the extreme end of Monday.   Adjust for the three hour time zone change, and it’s cruel.  I’m going to be the walking undead trying to be cordial.

Guess what wasn’t there?  Waldo’s forms aren’t rocket science.   I send him a terse email, Cc’ing his manager.   I am tired of this defer commitment until the last irresponsible minute bullshit.