And Back To Bad Blood

So yesterday at work we were scrambling for work.  The shipment of forms that morning was cancelled because it comes from the mid-South, and the ice storm that includes that polar vortex that's turning Texas into the North Pole precluded any chance that the forms were sent here, or even picked up from the testing labs.

What we did have were "the other forms."  How they came I don't know.  They come from all over, so how did these get here and the others did not?  Anyway, we had over a grand of them, and we were plenty busy getting those done -- both keying them and then looking over them before filing them away.

These folders are on my supervisor's desk.  What usually happens is once they're keyed, I take them off her desk to do one final once-through.  But because there were so many and because my boss (my "other" boss) found a project that we could also do, I was told that only to do those forms that were priority.  Do those, then flip over to the other project.  Problem is is that it's not too apparent when those forms are keyed through and ready to be looked over.

I thought I knew that the data entry portion of those forms was done, so I went over to her desk to look through those priority forms.  She was there, but she mumbled something.  So I innocently said, "Sorry, what now?"  That's all I said.  That's.  All.  I.  Said.  And she just snaps: "I DON'T THINK THESE WERE PRIORITIZED!"

At this point I just have to roll my eyes at her.  I ain't her favorite, and therefore she's not mine.  But I can't get all bitchy over her outbursts unless I'm prepared to quit.

But Jesus fucking Christ, don't fucking mumble if you don't want to be sorry-what-now-ed, fuck. ...