On Tuesday evening, after Noor had left, for some reason the work in our team piled up something chronic. Nothing impossible, thankfully, and all perfectly well within timescales.
Wednesday morning, there are only five of us in. Sandra was off (meaning Central Team had no cover), and so was Ann, leaving me and Noor, Gaynor M, Joy and Marian, to cover everything else.
For some reason the work on the other side had piled up to the degree that it there was stuff in the tray from MONDAY. We agreed to help out as best we could (usually this entails alternating between teams so as not to fall behind) and I spent 15 minutes in the morning booking in the massive pile of work, which had been ignored totally in favour of completing the 4-5 urgent pieces which had come in as a result of the work not being done.
This was the first annoying thing. Booking in is tedious, it's true, but not doing it doesn't really help. Just... bloody hell, how difficult is it to do the booking in as and when the work arrives? Impossible, apparently.
For the record, in terms of items in the tray, on our side we were up to 70 or so at that point, whereas the other side were only up to 50. There are more of them than us. The mind boggles.
So basically I spent yesterday running backwards and forwards and typing like the clappers, so by the end of the day my fingers were simply refusing to cooperate. I normally leave early on Wednesdays, but because there was so much to do I ended up staying the full day. As if the situation wasn't bad enough on the other side, we were having to keep on top of our own work so it didn't go out of time as well.
There was also an issue with cheque letters which resulted in my sending an e-mail to Gaynor S (act-up supervisor) - in that team alone they're put in for typing (though not priority when in the pile, apparently) and everyone is refusing to do them because they're irritating. I got so sick of looking at them that I did them myself in the end, but in any case it's now an issue to be brought up at the team meeting.
Don't even get me started on the Awful Temp. I think she managed to do about six things over the course of the day, and they weren't even that long. I have discovered why she takes so long to do anything: I watched her doing an amendment whilst I was booking in. She was incredibly slow and meticulous; after each separate little amendment within the document, she would type it up, then tick it off on the hard copy to be absolutely sure it was actually done. Every.single.time.
I'm so glad I don't have to work with her. I think I would have throttled her by now.
So, that was irritating. I mean, we quite often go from one extreme to the other in this place, from no work to too much, but never to the degree where it's that far out of date. Absolutely unbelievable.
Secondly - AGAIN - my GP surgery.
The last time I had a repeat prescription, they forgot to print out the back copy, i.e. the bit I hand in next time. It's not the first time this has happened, either. It's not that much of a problem because I can just write down what I want and put it in the box nonetheless (though I question what those people do who don't actually know what their medication is...) and it will get processed as usual.
It's annoying enough that for some reason they can now only process prescriptions in 48 hours rather than 24, and they close early on Wednesdays (which is direct opposition to what their listing on the NHS site says, but that's not the point). This usually means that I have to drop my prescription in on Thursday night to pick it up on Monday the following week; ideally I would like to drop it in on either Monday evening or Wednesday evening (my leaving-work-early days) and pick it up Wednesday or Friday respectively, both of which options are impossible because of their opening hours. I can't drop it in on Tuesdays because I'm at choir most of the year.
I have run out of my preventative medication. Thankfully not my relievers or I would be in a heap of non-breathing trouble right now. So I hand-wrote the prescription and gave it to Paul to put through the door of the surgery after he left work on Tuesday, so I could go and get it this afternoon.
Of course, because I'm a frelling idiot, I forgot to put my name on it. Except, you know, having to hand-write your own prescription is a pretty rare occurrence in my book, so it's entirely understandable I'd forget something as simple as putting my name on it when it's not something I usually have to do.
I fully intended to ring them up yesterday morning to sort it out, in the off chance they hadn't automatically thrown it away. Except because the above-mentioned uber-insanity, I didn't get time to breathe until lunchtime. I checked the NHS listing for the surgery to find the number (in case it was different to the one in my phone) and to see if they perchance had some kind of email address I could write to as well. The NHS listing seems to think that not only is my surgery open late on Wednesdays, but open Saturday mornings! Good GOD, but I wish that were true. So, hoping this miraculous information might be true, I rang up, only to get the answering machine.
Okay. There is little to no point in providing information to a website if you're not going to keep it up to date or if it's blatantly wrong. GAH.
I rang up again this morning and explained the situation. Obviously, they've thrown it away because of the lack of name. And you can't do repeat prescriptions over the telephone any more, (even though the message states this won't happen until July), so I was advised, upon asking if there was any chance it could be ready by Friday, to bring it in "this morning" and they'll try their very best.
Er, yeah. That's not going to happen. Ye gods! WHY is there this inherent assumption that everyone has the free time available to just... drop everything? I AM AT WORK, for goodness' sake, and because I naturally do not live where I work, I do not therefore work near my GP surgery. The last time I tried to get there and back in my lunch break it took in excess of an hour and a half because of traffic and idiot bus drivers (I don't think I told that story, but it doesn't matter any more) and yeah, I'm not about to just swan off from my job to conform to my surgery's idea of doing me a favour.
I'll just have to do it this lunchtime and hope for the best. I can survive without my preventative medication, but it's not exactly comfortable to do so, and I'd rather get it Friday before I go to Glastonbury than have to wait until bloody Tuesday because of the sodding bank holiday (which I've just remembered will mean the surgery is closed).
I absolutely need to change surgeries. The new Vicarage Road one is a lot nearer. Admitttedly, 'newer' does not always equate to 'better', and they had idiot timeframes in which to register as a new patient the last time I tried.
Also I have no sodding money (so what else is new), except we've run out of food and need to go shopping, and with the current natural (rather than economic) climate I'm beginning to feel like I haven't seen the sun since That Heatwave of 2005 and may never do so again for the foreseeable. Was that the sun's last hurrah or something? It's been bloody dire ever since.
A somewhat better thing is that last night I actually got a decent amount of words done on my Jonathan Creek "Omega Man" tag fic - some of it typed, then a bit more when I went to bed. I won't say anything remotely pre-emptive at this point about where I might post it or whatever, because that's usually a recipe for utter failure. So: I've done a bit of writing, and we'll leave it at that.
I'm so glad I have three days off next week.