WAM-BAM

WAM-BAM

I'm debating with myself whether I can turn this into a 'long-story-short' entry...

Well anyway:

Print jobs, print jobs. We send jobs out to various & sundry printshops, lithographers, etc., all day, every day. We have a set of reliable vendors that do an awesome job for us. But you gotta keep the pool fresh, so we try to add new vendors to the list every now & then. So I decided I try out this guy who's been bugging and pestering us for work for ages. We'll call him "Gary", since that's his real name. Last week, I called him and told him I wanted to send a job his way, and so what would his timeline be for the job...and so blah blah blah, "a couple days" after we sign off the proof it'll be ready. Wonderful. Great prices. Great turnaround.

oops. Did I say "great prices"? Well I should've known better. Great prices = trading for some other disaster down the line. Oh but I had high hopes.

So I sent the job down to him, let people here know what the job schedule will be, and headed off for a long 3-day weekend of fixing broken water pipes and scalping my skanky lawn down to astroturf length.

Then today, I call up good ole Gary to ask him when I could expect a proof and to verify turnarounds. The conversation might've gone something like this:

JP: So if I okay the proof right after you send it, can you have the job ready by Friday?
Gary: Hah! No.
JP: Geh...
Gary: Like I was telling Warren*, when you sign off the proof, then we'll talk about the deadline, but it should be a week after that...
JP: That's nice Gary. So when you tell me it will take a couple days, you were obviously cracking wise, because who in their right mind would think that's believable right?
Gary: Well that's right Jeremy, like I was telling Warren...
JP: No Gary, Warren can go play with his calculator. You told me a couple days, and I believed you, because I do work with printers that pull that sort of thing off all the time.
Gary: Well I don't know who you're using, but...
JP: No. No 'buts' Gary. I want you to go out behind the shed, cut yourself a switch and give it to your nearest press operator so he can stripe you with it, because you're going to have that job ready on Friday, and yes, you will, figure out how AmericaWest flies stuff to Flagstaff, and then you're going to make it happen.
Gary: Well Jeremy, you can't expect...
JP: Yes I can Gary. Now I want to hear a 'Yes Sir.'
Gary: Now Jeremy...
JP: No, not 'Jeremy', 'Yes Sir'
Gary: But...
JP: 'Yes Sir'
Gary: Yes Sir.

* Turns out our handy-dandy purchasing guy, Warren, somehow interjected himself into discussing project deadlines with Gary somewhere along the lines

...but...the conversation didn't quite go that way, much as I might wish. Somewhere after 'geh', it went more like:

JP: oh...ahh...well....when could you have it?
Gary: Well like I was telling Warren (curse that Warren), we'll need about a week after you ok the proof.
JP: ahh. Well can we speed up the proofing? Could you get the proof on a flight up to Flagstaff so we can cut a day off that part?
Gary: Ah. Jeremy we don't do that sort of thing.
JP: oh. um. well. Let's just do a fax proof then....so...erm...*if* I sign off the proof right after you fax it to me, could we get the job sometime next week?
Gary: Now Jeremy, we'll talk about that tomorrow after you ok the proof...
blah blah blah...grovel grovel grovel...concede concede concede.

How embarassing. Now we have to renege our deadlines with everybody. I feel jilted and dirty. It's like he took me out to dinner, invited me up for a nightcap, etc. etc., and now he's hurrying to put on his shoes, button his shirt and race out the door before I can ask for snuggles.

I watch far too much cable.

Still griping,
Jeremy