Not Safe For Work

So, here I am, another day at the office, being the best employee I can be. At this phase in our program development we are setting up the facility. We’re taking almost all our inventory that was in storage and moving it a gazillion times in the facility. Fun, right? After many moves, everything was finally in one big room and sorted. Good job! When I say everything, think about everything an inpatient treatment facility with a built-in school would need, anything from pencils to fridge/freezer thermometers to cough syrup. Next, we (really, I) must inventory everything. Okay. I knew this day was coming, besides its part of my job. Ya know, the stuff I’m good at, organizing. I initially planned to go line by line to check what items we actually have against a master invoice spreadsheet (which lists every item and quantity we should have) Of course that would have been a huge task, but I wanted to be thorough and accurate. It’s nothing I couldn’t have done if I was left the hell alone. What did make that task harder was co workers coming in and grabbing random supplies with the intention of documenting everything they have. I can’t work like that. I’d prefer for me to do what I need to do without others interfering. So the next idea was to stop everyone from taking stuff and to start listing what and how much they have and then I’d do a master inventory of what’s left. Okay, this could work, for now. Everyone gave me a list of what they had.  I, along with three co workers completed a master inventory of what was left. So at this point, scribbled on random sheets of paper, was a count of everything. Next, I had to organize the raw data electronically. No problem, part of my job, stuff I’m good at. Unfortunately, I was off the next day and my co workers must have been idle. #2 in command decided it was a great idea to tell everyone to go AGAIN and get everything they need from the remaining, untouched inventory. What for? Why? We have no clients. The program has not commenced. What work could anyone be doing that they just HAVE to have a post-it note dispenser or a set of color pencils? Anyway, #2 called me that evening, all after the fact and told me about the work day. And I sure did express my discontentment. I’m not trying to be a supply dictator, but when something is my responsibility I want to handle it the way that is most efficient for me and the company. I don’t need people screwing with stuff that I’m accountable for. I don’t need anyone’s help in looking like I don’t know what I’m doing.

So, I returned to work Monday, without seeing the full implications of #2’s actions. It’s only right that #2 has taken the whole week off. Monday, we moved everything AGAIN, this time, to the halls of the building to set up the remaining beds in the dorms. Tuesday, we unpacked the boxes and put the items in the respective areas. When it came time to store the office supplies, everyone went to lunch, except me. Great, doesn’t bother me any. I stored everything neatly. Everything is visible and retrievable. One would think that the hard part is over.

Today, Wednesday, after MOVING SHIT AGAIN, I sit down to tabulate the entire scribbled inventory. Forget checking with what we should have. Shit shouldn’t have to be moved on an average of twice a day. Mind you, I don’t have photographic memory, but my vision and memory are intact. I figured I’d make the master list one sheet and then put everyone’s individual items on their respective sheets, all in one big Excel document. So, I get to the item ‘desktop calculator’ and the quantity reads two. Remember, I put the office supplies into the storage cabinet. I only saw ONE desktop calculator. How can it be, that I only account for one calculator, but my list says two? Hmmm. So what does the Supply Tyrant/Sherlock Holmie have to do? Go around and ask every person if he/she has the damn desktop calculator. So I launch my investigation and I discover that one of the teachers has it. His response, “Well so and so told me to take what I need and wrote down what I took.” She did scribble everything down alright, in her cursive handwriting, on yellow notebook paper. How the fuck am I going to reconcile my records if people keep taking shit? At this point, I’m angry and I rant, audibly. Still professional, I just vocalized my frustrations to myself and the teacher agreed J I hate when people make my tasks harder. I hate when people recklessly complicate things for others. So I guess now, that master list, the one I and three co workers (including #2), worked on for a least an hour, singlehandedly counting everything, has to be disregarded.I’m still going to work on my inventory project but I’m not counting what was put in the cabinet, because I don’t have a photographic memory, nor am I going to go take everything out and count again. I’ll compile the lists of what everyone has against what we should have and whatever is left is assumed to be in the storage cabinet. If the numbers don’t match, oh the fuck well. That’s what happens when you constantly move stuff and people take stuff while stuff is in transition. I hate feeling like I’ve done something in vain. I hate feeling like my time has been wasted. I’m not over reacting. I’ve felt this way several times while working here. I will address my concerns at the next office meeting.