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kangeikoI have the beginnings of a couple of fics cluttering up my harddrive and they are driving me slowly nuts. One is Laura/Arvin (with a heavy side of Jack!obsession), one is a Londo/G'Kar kiss, wherein there is no actual kissing as yet. Grr.
In other news, work was completely pointless today. The part of the NHS I work for is responsible for several primary care trusts, and I'm in charge of allocating fee claims made by medical practitioners, depending on where the patient lives, which GP they are registered with, where they are examined, etc etc. It's a rather convoluted process and is very very dull. At the end of it, I end up with a spreadsheet of allocations, covering patients' names, date of examination and the doctor the fee is payable to, segmented by PCT.
Imagine my lack of joy when one of the PCTs refused to pay any of the fee claims until they had copies of every single claim, proof that they were indeed correctly allocated, and a huge spreadsheet with pretty much all the patient data - ever. Going back two years. *headdesk*
This joyless task, involving a lot of wading through past claims, photocopying and basically duplicating a whole lot of work, has kept me occupied for the better part of a month. Two years' worth of claims, nearly completed.
Today, the finance manager ran up to me with a very concerned look on his face and said, "er, I know that you've sorted everything out for PCT A, but, er, you'll also need to do the whole thing again for PCT B."
Because the world hates me and the PCTs are complete fuckwits. Seriously. Would you sit around on an invoice for several hundred thousand pounds for a couple of years and then ask for proof? Especially if it's itemised down to - in some cases - amounts as small as three pounds per claim? Seiously? Would you? Would you choose to tell me this on the Day of Technical Hell, when no computer would stay working for longer than three minutes?
Total waste of time. This is what your tax money is going on, ladies and gents.
Essays are still not written. I'm about half-way through the economics one - after a complete restructuring, incidentally, because what makes sense in terms of economic progression doesn't necessary translate as rhetorical progression or, indeed, sound very pretty - and have almost finished the research for the migration one.
Dissertation brainstorm also progressing apace. *goes back to books*
In other news, work was completely pointless today. The part of the NHS I work for is responsible for several primary care trusts, and I'm in charge of allocating fee claims made by medical practitioners, depending on where the patient lives, which GP they are registered with, where they are examined, etc etc. It's a rather convoluted process and is very very dull. At the end of it, I end up with a spreadsheet of allocations, covering patients' names, date of examination and the doctor the fee is payable to, segmented by PCT.
Imagine my lack of joy when one of the PCTs refused to pay any of the fee claims until they had copies of every single claim, proof that they were indeed correctly allocated, and a huge spreadsheet with pretty much all the patient data - ever. Going back two years. *headdesk*
This joyless task, involving a lot of wading through past claims, photocopying and basically duplicating a whole lot of work, has kept me occupied for the better part of a month. Two years' worth of claims, nearly completed.
Today, the finance manager ran up to me with a very concerned look on his face and said, "er, I know that you've sorted everything out for PCT A, but, er, you'll also need to do the whole thing again for PCT B."
Because the world hates me and the PCTs are complete fuckwits. Seriously. Would you sit around on an invoice for several hundred thousand pounds for a couple of years and then ask for proof? Especially if it's itemised down to - in some cases - amounts as small as three pounds per claim? Seiously? Would you? Would you choose to tell me this on the Day of Technical Hell, when no computer would stay working for longer than three minutes?
Total waste of time. This is what your tax money is going on, ladies and gents.
Essays are still not written. I'm about half-way through the economics one - after a complete restructuring, incidentally, because what makes sense in terms of economic progression doesn't necessary translate as rhetorical progression or, indeed, sound very pretty - and have almost finished the research for the migration one.
Dissertation brainstorm also progressing apace. *goes back to books*
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no subject
Date: 2005-04-21 05:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-21 10:52 pm (UTC)Also, once it is beta-ed and therefore less sucky, a person may read it and beat it with sticks. Provided that said person has done some writing of their very own to make me happy happy joy joy. *prods you with a stick*
I also appear to be the only person - other than
Need more Jack fic. Now.
stupid essay. *humpf*
no subject
Date: 2005-04-22 05:23 am (UTC)Send away, the sticks are waiting!
What does that mean, then?
I think he thinks of himself as Sloane when he's with most people (including Sydney), but not when he's with Emily or Jack.
Need more Jack fic. Now.
no subject
Date: 2005-05-02 11:33 pm (UTC)As for this 'thinking of yourself as...' thing... You know, that's fandom for you. We're forced to think about how people would refer
As for this 'thinking of yourself as...' thing... You know, that's fandom for you. We're forced to think about how people would refer <i.to themselves</i> in their own heads. I find this vaguely disturbing (sort of like referring to yourself in the third person), albeit artistically necessary. Still vaguely creepy, though.
"Today, I feel like it's a Victoria day. Tomorrow, it shall be a Vic day. When I conquer the world, I shall have them call me <i>Miss</i> Victoria! Mwahahahahaha!"
*shiver*