A box has arrived for the human female.
Well, I don’t know if I’d call her “one who gets things done,” but I certainly am.
You see, this box represents several weeks’ worth of first-class mischief.
Humans are clumsy by nature, always dropping things and breaking them. Last semester, the students broke a number of the glass graduated cylinders used in the urinalysis experiment. Terrible things, students. Can’t be trusted.
At any rate, the decision was made to order a bunch of plastic cylinders that the feckless little darlings couldn’t break. So the female ordered 24 of one size and 6 of another, so as to fit the hydrometers on hand.
And she waited. And waited. Finally, exasperated, she called the vendor and was dismayed to learn that they had never received the PO at all. So she jumped through all the hoops and asked the Bean Counters to re-send it.
And they did.
So she waited some more, and still no box of plastic piss-jars. She called the vendor again, who told her yet again that no such PO had ever been received. At this point, the human female recalled that it had been long and long since she had ordered from this vendor, and it occurred to her that, back in the glory days of BAMN, the program administrators wanted all POs to be emailed to a person, rather that to a helpful or useful address not tied to a transient and mortal meat-sack. She asked the person on the other end of the phone what address would actually reach the orders department.
Armed with this little nugget of information, she contacted the Bean Counters and asked them to transmit the PO one more time.
You can see by the presence of the package and all of this boring wrapping paper that a shipment eventually resulted, so how did it come about?
Not long after the PO was transmitted to the vendor for a third time, the human female had a missed telephone call, and then an email, from chipper customer service rep saying that if the human female would call them, they’d be more than happy to set up an account and process the order.
Everything involves an account these days, so the human female called and proceeded to try to navigate the vendor’s byzantine account setup. The Helpful Person on the other end of the line (trained by me, of course) tried to walk her through the whole process but the human female could never quite get her to understand that the University is a rather large place and the Biology Department only a small part of it–and the human female smaller still. The Helpful Person wanted to create an account for the whole of the Department and make the human female the contact person for it—or perhaps the person in the stockroom, since that is the delivery address. Or maybe whoever is in charge of Departmental Billing…
After about twenty minutes of internal zip codes, building abbreviations, and increasing frustration on the part of all parties, the human female had finally had enough. Abandoning the idea of an account (for which she did not wish to be Responsible), the human female asked if they could just abandon the notion of an account and process the order some other way.
Why, yes! Yes, they could! Relieved, the human female launched into placing a guest order with the credit card. Everything went swimmingly right up to the point where the Helpful Person read out the total.
Rule One of purchasing: The University never pays tax. Ever. Slight snag, yes?
No worries, the Helpful Person told the human female! All she had to do was make the purchase, request the tax refund form, fill it out, provide a copy of the University’s tax exempt paperwork, and sit back and wait for the tax to be refunded to the card.
At this point, if the human female had been listening instead of grinding her teeth, she’d have heard me giggling in the background. It’s a known fact that initiating a tax refund stunt like that would make the Bean Counters purple in the face and bring on a spitting apoplexy.
Followed by a stern reprimand and a lecture about Rule One of purchasing: The University never pays tax. Ever.
It was at this point that the human female reached her limit. She thanked the Helpful Person for their
help time and rang off.
Next, she contacted the Chief Bean Counters and asked them to cancel the PO entirely.
Now, obviously, here are the cylinders.
So how did she get them? She remembered, belatedly, that this particular vendor has a punch-out right at the front of the purchasing software site, one that takes the user straight to the catalog where they can load up a cart and check out easy-peasy. Once the PO was cancelled, she logged in, went through the punch-out, put in the order, hit a button, and took delivery about 48 hours later. No problems, no tax, and no escaping that it was her own incompetence that led her down the garden path in the first place.
Well, I may have helped a little.
So now there is a full set of plastic cylinders for the urinalysis experiment. The Prep Staff are always quick to point out that it isn’t really real urine, just something they whip up out of water, food coloring, and chemicals.
Theoretically. No one has yet connected the strange results they keep getting with my capacity to quaff and process ale…