Work is starting to get funnier, for all the wrong reasons. I've gone from being stranded on the training pod to sitting at the back pod with all the bad kids, so to speak. We bitch and complain all the time. The carmraderie helps me stay focused and upbeat. It's also nice to be facing away from my supervisior. Now, she's a fair lady, but she can be a bit of a nut. But all people in enterprises are, aren't they? They're almost as bad as sales supervisors, no doubt. Numbers numbers numbers. Oh, too many items from Hydro One are going into Suspense! (My retort would be, "Too many crackheads aren't writing their account numbers on their zorking cheques!" Actually, the telling of the story meant two four-minute "meetings," (ie: no keying!) so really, any news is good news.) Remind me to take up an occupation that is difficult to quantify in numbers. There are no secrets in the business world. But this is interesting for the time being.
Gah, Prince Edward Island Department of Health and Social Services, hurry up with my birth certificate! I really need to be e-mailing Ms. MacMullin like today and telling her that I've filed my passport application. However, this requires a birth certificate. I'm sure one was issued for me somewhere, but when your parents get divorced, a lot of important stuff gets lost. For years I didn't even know what my social insurance number was. Oh, I also need to know what color my eyes are, for the application. I guess I'll just ask my mother, she'd know. Do any of you guys know?