Death by scale

By architect’s scale, that is.

I have been having the most exhausting week at work, to the point that when I come home all I want to do is curl up in the fetal position and eat cookie dough. So much for being well-rested after the long holiday weekend.

My first task of the week was slowly plodding through the reams of paperwork in the Audit Hangover to try and determine exactly what payroll charges were made to categories that were unusual for the project. By unusual, I mean a superintendent charging time to something like “Portable Toilets” or something like that...like, what did he think - that he was getting paid to sit in the portajohn reading Penthouse? Well, I got Intern to do a summary of charges by cost code for me, and still haven’t had two seconds to look at it to make any form of analysis. I’m hoping that by the time the official report from the auditor shows up, I may have actually glanced at it enough to make a half-hearted attempt to bullshit my way through the umpteen meetings that the report will cause.

Eeyore suddenly decided on Tuesday afternoon (and this would be after the first checkrun of the week was already completed) that my next mission should be to pay the final invoices for every subcontractor on the $40 million project. This includes getting a final lien waiver, which is somewhat like trying to milk a dog. It’s a very painful experience, both for you and the dog. On one hand, you have subcontractors who call on almost a daily basis wanting to know when they’re going to receive payment…and on the other hand, you have others that you are literally begging for an invoice from. How do these people stay in business? I have no idea, but if they’re that secure financially then maybe I need to rethink making a career move. So anyhow, I scrambled around verifying invoices for payment and left them with him yesterday…and he didn’t sign one freaking one. Today was our last checkrun of the week, and I guarantee you that I will have at least 10 pissed voice mails in the morning from people looking for money. And you wonder why I just love my job?

The other albatross that has not only been hanging around my neck, but is starting to get kind of gamey-smelling, is that Eeyore charged our little group with looking at the new tenant upfit drawings for this office building project I’m working on and coming up with an estimate. Imagine, if you will, taking two floors of a building and having to calculate all of the electrical changes, carpet, tile, drywall, ceilings, etc. etc. etc. And do this while you’re being interrupted every 7.9 seconds by either someone coming into your office, or calling on the phone. And did I mention the fact that the plans are the size of a small kitchen table, and almost take up my entire office? Chachi, Intern and I decided that we would join forces and each take pieces and parts of the estimate to work on. As luck would have it, the other project manager that I slave for has kept me so busy on stupid clerical BS that I haven’t had two seconds to work on it until today…

Chachi: Hey Liz, how’s that estimate coming?

Me: It’s not. I haven’t even had time to take a piss today.

Ten minutes later…

Chachi: Hey, how’s that takeoff coming?

Me: It’s not. But the good news is that I finally did get to pee.

Ten minutes later:

Chachi: When do you think you’ll be done with that carpet takeoff?

Me: After I finish bludgeoning you to death with my scale. Is that fast enough for you?

Chachi: Um, just give it to me in the morning, okay?

It’s been that kind of week. Thank God we have absolutely no plans for the weekend that require any effort on our part other than just existing.