Czech Your Head.

As I was sitting at my desk this morning, concentrating very hard on not doing anything even remotely productive (i.e. helping my origami panda head, Pandozer, destroy the Queen Mary, played rather convincingly by my tape dispenser), I got an email from The Czech, one of the many administrative assistants who works for one of the many bigwigs up at Corporate. I groaned and threw Pandozer at my monitor, wondering if I would be able to shut my computer down when, six hours later, the time came for me to go home.

You see, The Czech¹ has a habit of sending emails with ridiculously large attachments that cause The Compy of Multiple Reboots to freeze for upwards of forty-five minutes. I have sent many a vain email to both The Czech and I.T., the last of which looked like this:

Good afternoon,
I realize that this response to [The Czech]’s email is rather late, and I would have sent one sooner, but I have spent the last thirty minutes staring at my CPU as it made noises like a robotic hippo giving birth. Once it stopped and I was able to use my computer again, I was quite surprised to find this email from [The Czech] in my inbox, as I reminded her just last week that receiving her attachment-laden messages causes my computer to freeze, bringing my personal business day to a screeching halt. I understand that it is vital I know the revised date and time of the Corporate Bowling Party, but in the future, if you could please direct these emails to [The Boss], she is willing to print out any attachments and give them to me personally.

Thank you,
[Temmahkrik]

This email was sent TWO DAYS AGO.

Needless to say, as I saw her name appear in my inbox this morning, I had to summon every ounce of willpower I possess (and some that I don’t) to keep myself from using the half-hour it would take for my computer to unfreeze to march up to corporate, locate The Czech and plant my foot firmly up her ass. However, I am a Mature Adult now, and Mature Adults can’t get away with stuff like that on account of something called “the criminal justice system” that holds us accountable for our actions. Oh, to be a minor (or schizophrenic)… But I digress.

Instead, inspired by my initial reaction to seeing The Czech’s email, I played a light game of handball using the back of my hand, Pandozer and part of my cube wall. I also made approximately fifteen trips to the break room, two trips to the restroom (once to pee and once to steal a box of tissues), took four walks around the building and even made a sad attempt at filing the stack of paperwork on my desk that’s starting to resemble Mount Doom (complete with orcs, nazgúl and a lidless eye desperately in need of some Visine). When I was sure that at least thirty minutes had gone by, I turned my attention back to the computer, which, to my dismay, was still under The Czech’s email spell.

After banging my head repeatedly on my desk for ten minutes, I picked up my phone and attempted to get some help from I.T.

ME: My computer’s frozen.
I.T. GUY: How long has it been that way?
ME: Nearly one hour.
I.T. GUY: Why didn’t you call sooner?
ME: It’s frozen because I’m getting an enormous email from [The Czech]; I thought it would be fine after thirty minutes.
I.T. GUY: It takes thirty minutes for your computer to recover from receiving one of [The Czech]’s emails? That’s a long time.
ME (in my head): Ya think?
ME (aloud): This is why I’ve asked her repeatedly not to send me any emails.
I.T. GUY: Why didn’t you tell us about this sooner?
ME: *hits herself on the head with the receiver* I did.
I.T. GUY: Oh. Well, maybe you should call [The Czech].
ME: But—
I.T. GUY: (hangs up)

Once more, I threw Pandozer at my monitor. Then I dialed The Czech’s extension.

THE CZECH (T.C.): Good morning, this is [The Czech]!
ME: Yeah, hi. This is [Temmahkrik] from [The Boss]’s office.
T.C.: Hi! How can I help you?
ME: Well, I’ve sent you emails about this, but I thought it might be better to just call.
T.C.: Uh-huh.
ME: Could you please stop sending me those corporate announcement emails with the huge attachments? They really mess with my computer.
T.C.: I send those to everyone.
ME: Yes, but could you please not send them to me?
T.C.: But… I send those to everyone.
ME: Yes, but could you please not send them to me?
T.C.: I don’t think I can do that.
ME: Why not?
T.C.: Because I send those to everyone.
ME: (deep, cleansing breath) I understand that you send them to everyone. What I’m asking is that you please not send them to me. They are so big that my computer freezes whenever you send one. When this happens, I’m not able to do any work for forty-five minutes or more. Since most of the emails you send out do not contain vital information meant only for me, I would prefer it if you relayed these emails to [The Boss], who has said that she would be more than happy to relay any pertinent information to me.
T.C.: But… I send those to everyone.
ME: DOES YOUR SPINAL CORD EVEN REACH YOUR BRAIN?!? CHRIST ON A STICK!

Okay, so I didn’t actually say that last part to her. Instead, I said, “You know what, I’ll just talk to I.T., thanks,” and hung up. By this time, my computer had regained its ability to work, so I searched Outlook for a way to block any incoming emails from The Czech, but alas! I found no solution.

So I have come up with a most dastardly (Muahahahaha!) plan: Whenever I receive an email from her, I will forward my phone to her extension after recording a voice mail message explaining to my callers that my computer is currently out of commission and that The Czech, as a friendly representative of The Company, would be more than happy to help them until my machine is up and running. I have a feeling that this will result in one of three things:

1. The Czech will admit defeat and cease to send her stupid attachments,
2. The Czech will complain to her boss, who will complain to my boss, who will tell me to shut up an deal, or
3. I will get fired and collect unemployment for a month while I sit at home watching anime and writing poems about my cat.

Moral of the story: Don’t piss off the new girl who already hates her job. Chances are, she’s got a lot of time on her hands and absolutely nothing to lose.

¹ Who is not, as far as I know, Czechoslovakian (or whatever the correct national description is now). I call her that because she’s merely one in a long line of administrative assistants, all of whom may as well be the same woman with a different name.