Everyone is a Devil today

So, here it is late in the day, and I find myself staring down the clock awaiting the 5:30pm Fred Flintstone rock quarry whistle to blow. And what a day it has been, trying administrate all that needs to be done in so little time, while working in an environment where it seems you have to jump through hoops like some circus poodle to get the most miniscule of projects completed.

You need a pink form for this, you need a blue form for that; and you need an orange form for the other (not the day-glo color orange form – just the regular orange colored form), you need a cost center, you need authorization, you need to go six floors up, take the magical elevator that climbs at a 45 degree angle to the far reaches of nowhereland to sign your name in blood, promise your first born, and swear allegiance to the almighty copy room gods so you can get the Xerox machine fixed.

Here’s an example of just one thing that would cause anyone to reach for the gallon jug of vodka they keep stashed in their desk. I needed to get a security keycard for a new employee we are on-boarding this week (the names have been changed to squelch the carnage:

Mark asks Christy for keycard.
Christy asks Bob for keycard.
Bob asks Charlotte for keycard info.
Charlotte asks Lucy for keycard info.
Lucy gives Mark form to fill out.
Mark receives email from Christy (after Lucy gives Mark forms to fill out) stating that Bob will handle directly with Dick to resolve keycard issue, Mark need not do anything further.
Mark emails Bob (and cc's Christy) for follow-up, to confirm if Bob has contacted Dick yet.
Bob tells Mark to sign the form that Lucy gave him last week.
Mark fills out form and takes it to Bob for additional signature authorization.
Bob informs Mark that Bob cannot sign, and that Dick must sign the form instead.
Mark has the form completed and sends it to Dick for signature.
Dick now says the form must be signed by someone named ‘authority’.
Mark then goes back to Bob to get Bob's signature.
Mark gets signature and elusive keycard.

Ugh! There’s bad juju everywhere today...and when I ask the magic 8-Ball sitting on my desk if there is relief within sight, it reads, "Don't ask me, I'm a ball." Today, I feel like someone trying to get their last nickel out of a ponzi scheme before the gig is up.