Order, Order!

I know that I updated you on my mischief just yesterday, but it wasn’t an exhaustive recounting of my exploits.  Far from it!   The human female has had so many Purchasing Woes that they deserve their very own post!

If her coworkers tell her what they need, the human female can usually obtain it.  Take the other day, for example.  Coworker #1 said that they urgently need TEN THOUSAND of the machine-graded exam forms the freshman biology students use.  Cue multiple phone calls and e-mails to determine if the vendor is in the new system.  Well, look at that! They are!  But with a different address! More email!  More phone calls! Where, oh where should this excruciatingly vital order go?!  I waited until the human female had worked herself into a flapping froth to let coworker #2 tell her that there’s no pressing need for the forms.

I mean it–the new purchasing program never stops being funny!  The human female accidentally categorized a requisition as open market rather than direct open market, and because there’s no way to change it, she had to have someone higher up the food chain CANCEL the first one and then she got to do it all over again.

It’s not just the human female who struggles beneath the heavy burden of the twisty workings of BAMN, either.  Not only does the Vendor Who’s Responsible not have a functional punch-out catalog system yet, the poor University account rep has to hand-enter every single item on every order sent by BAMN into its own order fulfillment system, because the two programs will not talk to one another. Ehehehehe! I am so evil.

Even when the orders go through, get approved, go back to her, get sent, are retrieved by the vendor, and are filled and mailed out, things can still go wrong.  Why, just the other day, a whole shipment of Equisetum plants from the Purveyor of Squiggly Things (they also sell plants) arrived right on time.  Super, right?  Wrong!  In unpacking the plants, it became evident that they were just pots of rootless cuttings, no doubt grabbed from the wrong end of a greenhouse bench.  Oh, and the vendor had been doing so well.

But do you know what my FAVORITE part of all this ordering business is?  It’s the bit where the human female has to supply a commodity code for each and every little thing she orders.  It’s become almost a game.   She plugs an item into the search box, and maybe it comes up.  Maybe it doesn’t.  Maybe what the program urps up as possible matches is nothing short of poetry.

Have a look.  Here’s a screen-cap of the human female looking for those scanner forms:

orderscannerforms

Oooookay.   Next, looking for some microbes turned up decorations, cards, and party supplies.  (What kind of parties do these programmers GO to?!)

Looking for live hydras. Not to be confused with Hydra, which no one wants. (I don’t want to know what she plans to do with these tiny Cnidarians.  Possibly they are snacks.)

bam-hydra

Okay, the “hydraulic” items make sense, because they have “hydra-” in them, but cardiovascular drugs?  Cement?  Really, I just told the program to pull things at random and it does a beautiful job.

Searching for live hermit crabs?

bam-crab

I don’t know about you, but I always get confused between dry formulation herbicides and shell-swapping crustaceans.

Then there’s her search for a culture of the Chitrid fungus Allomyces:

orderfungi

I also have a growing collection of secret computer-cam photos of her face as she is greeted by each new twisted permutation of this program.  Sometimes, when I’m feeling low, I take them out and spread them out and look at them and do a little evil gloating.

B. A. M. N.  It never ceases to me amaze  me how my four little letters can cripple a whole University System.  If I can get the U.S.’s General Accounting Office and the various branches of the military to use this procurement software, it won’t matter who wins the elections in the fall, because the country will be paralyzed and looking to anyone to save it.  This whole country will fall into my outstretched hand like an overripe plum.  Today, crafter of inane search results.  Tomorrow, Ruler of Midgard!

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