A stitch in time usually creates a black hole

This coming Monday there is a staff meeting at The Hive. This is not unusual – we have a lot of staff meetings. Sometimes on the department level, sometimes on the company level. This one is of the various heads of department and the Triumvirate. 

From what I can gather, there are various things to be discussed, but most of them revolve around two central points.

The first is a rivalry that has – as far as I am aware – existed since my department was set up around fifteen years ago. There is a long and dramatic story that accompanies this (imagine West Side Story crossed with Rapunzel crossed with Anne of Green Gables with a touch of The Godfather thrown in), but the basic explanation is that the guy who runs the supply department is not a big fan of the Monkey House. And does everything that he can to suggest we are a waste of money, that we shouldn’t be around and that we would better serve The Hive in general if we moved to the supply department or quit.

There is also the possibility that this attitude is somewhat prevalent in the rest of the supply department – there are a few people who have voiced similar sentiments, and one in particular (who I shall call Linda) seems to spend a fair part of her time snarking about the work we do.

Recently, there has been a lot of discussion about the DRM, and whether or not all the time and effort we put in to it is worth what we get out of it. And whether or not certain staff would be better off employed working elsewhere. There is also the chance this will spread to some of the other smaller things we are doing as well. (The Monkey House, by the by, employs six staff, all of whom work on multiple projects within it. This means if one or two projects are scrapped, then there are very good odds the rest will fall like dominoes, and the whole department would have to be canned). 

The second is to do with something that happened a few weeks ago, and revolves around what classes as "personal" and what classes as "work". The fact that this has to be defined really makes me wonder just what the hell is going on in The Hive – when I started I was given the impression it was run like a family (which – given parts of my family – is not exactly the best recommendation, but you get the general idea) but now it seems to be more like the Hatfields and McCoys, or the Jets and the Sharks, or the Jan’s and the Marcia’s. (More so, because – while I don’t know the exact details – the incident seems to have been triggered by the selfsame Linda I mentioned earlier). 

The good news is that SSP (shop security) might be being brought back from the dead (so to speak). Of course, however well it might do, it will provide more ammunition to those who wanna bitch about it (and there are a fair number), but it does mean that I will at least have some sensible work over the next few weeks – currently I have been doing a LOT of testing which is so very, very dull. 

The people came to do the loft today, and they were done in about 40 minutes. Even though I couldn’t get up there, I peeked using the (tiny) stepladder I have, and it all seems to have been done suitably well. Which means that my house should be warmer than it was (how much warmer? Who knows. Will I really notice the difference? Not sure. 

And now, sadly, I must away to my bed, so that I can get up tomorrow and do more or less exactly what I did today. Because when my girlfriend is not here, as is more often the case than not, my life is simply a series of days that progress one to another with numbing regularity. 

But when she is, they are days of joy and wonder, each as unique as the next. When I wake up, I wake up with her. When I go to bed, I go not to a cold empty place, but a place full of love and happiness. And when I dance with the princess and hug the alien, I can see the look of amusement and fond delight on her face, which makes it all worthwhile. 

I don’t know how I got so lucky to have her in my life, but it is one of those things I have learned not to question, in case the universe notices and decides to undo what it did those many years ago.