After yesterday's hellish journey back to the early days of my career, I went out for "a drink" with a few colleagues. That one drink turned into about 9 hours, many many many pints and some good times. Of course, those good times also brought back a few more good memories...
"Asshole," the former IT guy, used to call me (a lot) to fix computers, servers and whatever else broke around the office when he was hung over, still drunk from the night before or just scared of the reaction to his most recent fark-up and decided not to come to work. One such call will always stand out. It was the morning after a night of drinking (back when I was young and could throw back a few without making an ass out of myself or feeling the pain the next morning). "Asshole" had come out too (I was among the first to leave that night...decided to go home right after he started telling me how hot my then-fiancee was and how he'd love to nail her).
The next morning, sure enough, email is down...but that's not all - our entire network had crashed. Boss guys are frantically calling IT A-hole to get him in to fix it, I'm calling our comm provider to see if it's a problem on their end or if it's internal and everybody's yelling at everybody else. As I hear angry, psychotic voicemail number 4 being left for IT dude, he calls me. Says he had a rough night and asked if I could get into the server room without anyone seeing. I couldn't fix this one on my own, but was able to get the system back up and running with a little phone support (from Microsoft - not IT guy). He showed up a few hours later with a black eye - turned out he had "challenged" one of the bigger guys at the company and the 2 of them left the bar and went back up to the office to wrestle. Big guy had a couple of cuts on his face, apparently having taken a bit of punishment as well.
Last night was nuts, and I still feel horrid, but on the bright side, our IT person didn't try to throw me through any walls...
And I didn't even have to fix the server this morning.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Hakuna Matata
It's amazing how the whole "circle of life" thing from the Lion King sometimes works. I've been at my company for 10 years (and endured countless therapy sessions as a result of the job), but am now considered (by one or two people at least) to be among the "higher ups" here. Of course, I'm viewed by others as the nerdy schmuck intern that the "real" staff had to sneak into bars 10 years ago. Today was one of those days where, as far as I've come, I had to go back to my roots. One of our clients was having a major event that wasn't properly planned, requiring the production of massive quantities of material in not nearly enough time. We have one guy who handles production jobs, and this was way too big for him alone, so my colleague that was running the event called me (in full-on panic mode) and asked me to "find people" to help. She needed at least 2 in there to make things run smoothly, but we only had one intern (the people that would normally pitch in on this were all at the event). Trying to be a good boss-type, I didn't ask anyone on my team to volunteer, and instead rolled up my sleeves and got in the trenches, just like the good (or less shitty) old days. My fellow slave laborers are both fairly new, and weren't fortunate enough to see some of what I saw. I couldn't help but think of some of the fun times that I had back then...
Our "original" IT guy didn't really know much about IT, or responsibility, or showing up to work. He also had a massive drinking problem. There were times (many times) that our mail server would crash. I was the first one in the office and as such, the first one to notice. Once the boss types found out, they'd call IT guy, who never seemed to have his phone turned on. One such morning, the "big boss" burst into my cubicle, the vein in his forehead throbbing like it had never throbbed before. He told me that "our shit didn't work again" and "the asshole" wasn't answering his phone. He told me to get in there and see what I could do. As I've said before, I'm completely self-taught and really had no clue how networks were supposed to work. I tried to calmly explain this to boss-man, who was now turning a shade of red I had never seen before, and he told me he didn't "give a flying fuck" if I "burned the damn place down trying to fix it," but we needed email and I was our best shot (as frightening as that may be). I went into the room and started throwing out random commands like I did in college when I was trying to crack a prog or hack a site, and somehow, magically, it started working.
Of course, once "the asshole" found out I was capable of fixing it, he started calling me, asking me to "work my magic" whenever the server went down and he was too hung over to come in.
Our "original" IT guy didn't really know much about IT, or responsibility, or showing up to work. He also had a massive drinking problem. There were times (many times) that our mail server would crash. I was the first one in the office and as such, the first one to notice. Once the boss types found out, they'd call IT guy, who never seemed to have his phone turned on. One such morning, the "big boss" burst into my cubicle, the vein in his forehead throbbing like it had never throbbed before. He told me that "our shit didn't work again" and "the asshole" wasn't answering his phone. He told me to get in there and see what I could do. As I've said before, I'm completely self-taught and really had no clue how networks were supposed to work. I tried to calmly explain this to boss-man, who was now turning a shade of red I had never seen before, and he told me he didn't "give a flying fuck" if I "burned the damn place down trying to fix it," but we needed email and I was our best shot (as frightening as that may be). I went into the room and started throwing out random commands like I did in college when I was trying to crack a prog or hack a site, and somehow, magically, it started working.
Of course, once "the asshole" found out I was capable of fixing it, he started calling me, asking me to "work my magic" whenever the server went down and he was too hung over to come in.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Sometimes technology causes stupidity...
Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), nothing good happened at work today. A few "tutorials" on different tech subjects (IPTV, 700MHz, EDGE vs. GSM vs. HSDPA...almost all intelligent questions). The only thing I could think about was a story of stupidity from the good doctor himself. A story not where stupidity results in the misuse of technology, but one where an obsession with all things gadget-y causes temporary stupidity. For anyone brave enough to read this crap (or smart enough to scroll), there are a couple of stories at the end...of course, I think my own techno-stupidity is amusing too...
I'm moving soon. My house is sold, I have a closing date and my almost ex-wife is planning her move to a place far far away from me (free at last, FREE AT LAST). She's already started packing, while I've started looking for new "stuff" for my soon to be bachelor pad as I think about escaping the suburban semi-hell (not sure if it's considered purgatory...) I've been living in for the last 5 years of my life. I've literally done hours of research and have made a lot of progress. I've picked a TV (52" of Samsung LCD 1080P goodness), have narrowed my sound system down to 3 finalists, and have a preliminary plan in place for my wireless network (despite the fact that I'll have an apartment slightly bigger than my bed, I'll have 3 computers with me...one for everyday use, one as a set top box / DVR permanently hooked up to that beautiful TV and the third to function as a media server, streaming music (Sirius online and MP3s) to the stereo and video (illegally downloaded movies mainly) to the laptop that's connected to the TV. I've also started looking at furniture...picked out a mattress, have 3 bedroom sets and 2 living room sets on the short list, and starting to narrow down my kitchen options (cookware, knives, etc. - in addition to being a raging geek, I'm also an aspiring gourmet).
Of course, it hit me a little while ago that all this planning is for naught, as I haven't yet started looking for an apartment to put all this crap in, and chances are whatever I end up with will have enough room for about a third of what I've already picked out.
I suppose I'll chalk this up to a temporary lapse in better judgment caused by a raging geek-gasm. Assuming I can find a place to live, it's gonna be hooked up (forgot to mention, I found a KILLER deal on that 52" Sammy...saving enough to stock the bar for the housewarming party and pick up a PS3 for some Blu-Ray goodness afterwards).
Enough about me...most of you (ok, both of you) are here for the funny stories about stupid people, so here's a couple quickies before the muscle relaxers kick in and I pass out...
Now-former colleague, a sweet girl, but not the brightest bulb in the chandelier, calls me upset that she can't get a certain website to load. she says she's typed it about 10 times, tried copying and pasting, and it still doesn't work. I ask her what it says and she tells me nothing, except the website she's trying to visit. I walk over to her office to see that she didn't have her browser open and was typing it in the wrong place. On her screen was a word document with a web address typed over and over again (probably about 20 times). On the bright side, she had hit return so each one was hyperlinked. In an effort to make her feel smart, I told her to hold down control (and then had to rephrase and tell her to hold down CTRL, or "kuh-tarl") while clicking one of the blue sentences. It worked and she was able to go shopping.
Colleage calls me over because she's trying to listen to a webcast and the sound is muffled, despite the fact that she has the volume turned all the way up. She claimed to have heard something, so it couldn't have been any of the usual - volume off, speakers powered down, speakers unplugged. I went over to take a look, unplugged her headphones from the jack built into the speaker and everyone in a ~20 foot radius got to hear a quick snippet of her "webcast," which sounded strangely similar to Walk Like an Egyptian by the Bangles.
Another colleague calls me to ask if I can figure out why her sound is "messed up" - in the background, I hear what sounds like multiple audio tracks running at the same time. I go into her office and explain to her that if she has the YouTube video playing at the same time as the client webcast and the VH1 Internet radio, she'll hear all three simultaneously, which would explain why her sound was "messed up." The YouTube video (LEAVE BRITNEY ALONE!!!!!) finished playing, so it was down to 2 sources. To the surprise of no one in the room, she stopped the client presentation and kept VH1 running.
I'm moving soon. My house is sold, I have a closing date and my almost ex-wife is planning her move to a place far far away from me (free at last, FREE AT LAST). She's already started packing, while I've started looking for new "stuff" for my soon to be bachelor pad as I think about escaping the suburban semi-hell (not sure if it's considered purgatory...) I've been living in for the last 5 years of my life. I've literally done hours of research and have made a lot of progress. I've picked a TV (52" of Samsung LCD 1080P goodness), have narrowed my sound system down to 3 finalists, and have a preliminary plan in place for my wireless network (despite the fact that I'll have an apartment slightly bigger than my bed, I'll have 3 computers with me...one for everyday use, one as a set top box / DVR permanently hooked up to that beautiful TV and the third to function as a media server, streaming music (Sirius online and MP3s) to the stereo and video (illegally downloaded movies mainly) to the laptop that's connected to the TV. I've also started looking at furniture...picked out a mattress, have 3 bedroom sets and 2 living room sets on the short list, and starting to narrow down my kitchen options (cookware, knives, etc. - in addition to being a raging geek, I'm also an aspiring gourmet).
Of course, it hit me a little while ago that all this planning is for naught, as I haven't yet started looking for an apartment to put all this crap in, and chances are whatever I end up with will have enough room for about a third of what I've already picked out.
I suppose I'll chalk this up to a temporary lapse in better judgment caused by a raging geek-gasm. Assuming I can find a place to live, it's gonna be hooked up (forgot to mention, I found a KILLER deal on that 52" Sammy...saving enough to stock the bar for the housewarming party and pick up a PS3 for some Blu-Ray goodness afterwards).
Enough about me...most of you (ok, both of you) are here for the funny stories about stupid people, so here's a couple quickies before the muscle relaxers kick in and I pass out...
Now-former colleague, a sweet girl, but not the brightest bulb in the chandelier, calls me upset that she can't get a certain website to load. she says she's typed it about 10 times, tried copying and pasting, and it still doesn't work. I ask her what it says and she tells me nothing, except the website she's trying to visit. I walk over to her office to see that she didn't have her browser open and was typing it in the wrong place. On her screen was a word document with a web address typed over and over again (probably about 20 times). On the bright side, she had hit return so each one was hyperlinked. In an effort to make her feel smart, I told her to hold down control (and then had to rephrase and tell her to hold down CTRL, or "kuh-tarl") while clicking one of the blue sentences. It worked and she was able to go shopping.
Colleage calls me over because she's trying to listen to a webcast and the sound is muffled, despite the fact that she has the volume turned all the way up. She claimed to have heard something, so it couldn't have been any of the usual - volume off, speakers powered down, speakers unplugged. I went over to take a look, unplugged her headphones from the jack built into the speaker and everyone in a ~20 foot radius got to hear a quick snippet of her "webcast," which sounded strangely similar to Walk Like an Egyptian by the Bangles.
Another colleague calls me to ask if I can figure out why her sound is "messed up" - in the background, I hear what sounds like multiple audio tracks running at the same time. I go into her office and explain to her that if she has the YouTube video playing at the same time as the client webcast and the VH1 Internet radio, she'll hear all three simultaneously, which would explain why her sound was "messed up." The YouTube video (LEAVE BRITNEY ALONE!!!!!) finished playing, so it was down to 2 sources. To the surprise of no one in the room, she stopped the client presentation and kept VH1 running.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
It pays to have priorities...most of the time
One more from the archives before the long weekend...
Having worked my way up at my company from, quite literally, slave labor, I've often been looked at as the little kid, regardless of my position, my workload or the value I brought to our organization and our clients. The best evidence of this is in the expectation of certain higher-ups that I'm going to be at their beck and call from 7 in the morning until 7 at night. Of course, this sad, pathetic part of my professional existence has also given me some good (albeit sometimes disturbing) stories.
There was a situation once where I was in a meeting with a client. I'm in the conference room with another member of my team and two senior executives who had literally just flown 12 hours to meet with me. About 20 minutes into the meeting, I get paged to reception. Given that I'm with an important new client, I ignore it. 10 minutes later, a second page, this time adding "ASAP." I buzz reception to find out one of the higher ups had a technical problem and needed my help. I explained that I was with important client and that it would have to wait. 15 minutes after that, I'm paged again, this time with the instructions to get to boss-type's office immediately, because it was "very" important. This new client, clearly being very understanding, let me go. I walked in and was told that he was having problems opening a fucking file and it was fucking up his computer. It was a media file and he was missing the codecs to run this type of video. I downloaded them for him and reset the player, and made the mistake of staying to make sure the file played properly before going back to my meeting...
It was a video of a woman blowing a horse. I had to drink a LOT that night, just to get the image out of my head. By the time I had gotten to double digit shots, I had forgotten that this guy actually called me out of a meeting with a new client so that he could sit at his desk watching equestrian fellatio.
Happy easter everbody
Having worked my way up at my company from, quite literally, slave labor, I've often been looked at as the little kid, regardless of my position, my workload or the value I brought to our organization and our clients. The best evidence of this is in the expectation of certain higher-ups that I'm going to be at their beck and call from 7 in the morning until 7 at night. Of course, this sad, pathetic part of my professional existence has also given me some good (albeit sometimes disturbing) stories.
There was a situation once where I was in a meeting with a client. I'm in the conference room with another member of my team and two senior executives who had literally just flown 12 hours to meet with me. About 20 minutes into the meeting, I get paged to reception. Given that I'm with an important new client, I ignore it. 10 minutes later, a second page, this time adding "ASAP." I buzz reception to find out one of the higher ups had a technical problem and needed my help. I explained that I was with important client and that it would have to wait. 15 minutes after that, I'm paged again, this time with the instructions to get to boss-type's office immediately, because it was "very" important. This new client, clearly being very understanding, let me go. I walked in and was told that he was having problems opening a fucking file and it was fucking up his computer. It was a media file and he was missing the codecs to run this type of video. I downloaded them for him and reset the player, and made the mistake of staying to make sure the file played properly before going back to my meeting...
It was a video of a woman blowing a horse. I had to drink a LOT that night, just to get the image out of my head. By the time I had gotten to double digit shots, I had forgotten that this guy actually called me out of a meeting with a new client so that he could sit at his desk watching equestrian fellatio.
Happy easter everbody
It's a computer
I was very excited at the prospect of some fresh material when I got an IM from a colleague (whose tales have been told here already) asking if I could come into her office "ASPA" (she makes mistakes when she panics). I was half expecting this as I heard her tell someone on the phone that she needed to "call in the expert."
Sure enough, it was me. Apparently one of her clients was trying to upload something to an FTP and it didn't work. My colleague, not actually knowing what an FTP is, wisely called for backup. She explained to me that "the FTP must be broken"because xxxxx couldn't get her file "downloaded"to us (there's got to be some joke in there somewhere, but I'm too tired to figure it out). Once I understood what the hell she was talking about, we got her contact on the phone. She explained her process to me...opened up the internet thing, typed in the address the guy gave her and nothing happened.
I thought of at least a dozen different things she could have been screwing up. Started with the obvious, asked her which FTP client she was using..."the Internet." Asked her what browser she was using..."the Internet one." Figuring it was either Safari or IE, I asked her what kind of system she had, to which she responded "it's a computer." Sensing this was going to be tough, I asked her what brand her computer was and she told me it's a dell. I asked what version of MS Internet Explorer she was using, which led to another 30 seconds of awkward silence before I explained how she could figure it out. She had version 7, which means the solution for her problem was both obvious and impossible given what I had learned of this lovely woman on the other end of the phone. I told her how to get the file to me and said that I'd post it for her (and my still-confused co-worker.
As I'm about to leave, she asked me a question that ensured this was getting written up - "should I put it on my ipod?" Turns out she had a Mac in her office and wondered if it would be worth trying to get onto the ftp via Safari since Windows had failed her. She also seemed to thing that any product made by Apple is known as an Ipod...this one being the as yet unsold Ipod gigantic...
Sure enough, it was me. Apparently one of her clients was trying to upload something to an FTP and it didn't work. My colleague, not actually knowing what an FTP is, wisely called for backup. She explained to me that "the FTP must be broken"because xxxxx couldn't get her file "downloaded"to us (there's got to be some joke in there somewhere, but I'm too tired to figure it out). Once I understood what the hell she was talking about, we got her contact on the phone. She explained her process to me...opened up the internet thing, typed in the address the guy gave her and nothing happened.
I thought of at least a dozen different things she could have been screwing up. Started with the obvious, asked her which FTP client she was using..."the Internet." Asked her what browser she was using..."the Internet one." Figuring it was either Safari or IE, I asked her what kind of system she had, to which she responded "it's a computer." Sensing this was going to be tough, I asked her what brand her computer was and she told me it's a dell. I asked what version of MS Internet Explorer she was using, which led to another 30 seconds of awkward silence before I explained how she could figure it out. She had version 7, which means the solution for her problem was both obvious and impossible given what I had learned of this lovely woman on the other end of the phone. I told her how to get the file to me and said that I'd post it for her (and my still-confused co-worker.
As I'm about to leave, she asked me a question that ensured this was getting written up - "should I put it on my ipod?" Turns out she had a Mac in her office and wondered if it would be worth trying to get onto the ftp via Safari since Windows had failed her. She also seemed to thing that any product made by Apple is known as an Ipod...this one being the as yet unsold Ipod gigantic...
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
A happy memory
I've been very busy with meetings and sending out my resume lately, so I haven't had time to deal with the colleagues that usually give me new material. Not wanting to keep my audience waiting, I've decided to pull another classic from the archives.
As has been documented, I've been the "go-to" guy for computer stuff since very early on in my career. My usefulness in this regard has dwindled in recent years, as my company has gotten younger and more and more of my peers have grown up around technology the same way I have. I'll always have a few peeps whose obliviousness will help keep the coffers full, but I sincerely doubt we'll ever approach the levels we saw during the glory days. When I first started, the senior management was literally "senior" - there wasn't a one under 50 (for a guy in his early 20s at the time, that's pretty damn old). Despite being intelligent and successful, these fuckers didn't know a keyboard from a keychain and for that I'm eternally grateful.
There was one higher-up in particular who was always good for a laugh. Like me, he was in early every day, and more often than not, I'd have to provide some sort of tech support for this dude before anyone else got to the office. About a year and a half into my tenure, he discovered that you could put your stocks into some sort of thingie on the Internet and see the quotes all at once (this is how he described it to me after being enlightened by his broker). Knowing that anything more than the most absolute basic portfolio would cause me unbearable pain (in hindsight, it would have also given me great material), I set him up with a Yahoo! finance account and put his portfolio together for him. I even bookmarked it for him, so he could come in and see his portfolio in a single click, rather than going through the yahoo homepage. I set it to keep him logged in and explained that he may, from time to time, have to re-enter his info to access his personal finance page (it made him feel special) and stuck a Post-It with the login details on his monitor. He was appreciative, and fascinated beyond belief.
I was happy to have helped one of my elders with something that he'd never have gotten on his own, and really felt like I taught him something...until the next morning.
I got a call, about 5 minutes after he got in (he was afraid he'd forget his password and be locked out of his computer, so he never shut it down) telling me that his stocks were gone and asking me to work my "technical wizardry" (a favorite saying of his, complete with freaky wiggle of the fingers as if he's trying to cast a spell). I asked him if he was clicking on the bookmark and he stared at me blankly. I then asked how he was trying to get to his portfolio and he told me he was trying to go to the Yahoo Finance address. I was impressed, but also figured I knew the problem. I asked him what the address was (at the time, it was finance.yahoo.com) and he told me it was wwww.yahoofinance.com (the fourth "w" is not a typo...that's actually what he told me, and what was typed in the address bar). I corrected him, re-explained the bookmark concept and all was well again (for a few hours, before he screwed up Microsoft Word...another story for another time).
We repeated this exercise, almost to the word, 4 days a week for the better part of the next 2 months. I bookmarked it for him almost every time and, by the end, he had about 28 bookmarks pointing to Yahoo Finance in his favorites folder. I even tried putting a shortcut on his desktop, telling him to click the special picture (icon) when he wanted to look at his portfolio. That lasted less than a day, as he clicked that for his browser and complained that the "Internet thing" was taking him to his stocks when he wanted to look at something else.
This guy was "asked to leave" eventually and went on to start his own company, which ended up being pretty successful. During the early days of his new life, he tried to recruit me.
He offered me much more money than I was worth at the time and threw in an equity position in the company. Tempting as it was, I just couldn't do it...the thought of my boss wiggling his fingers at me asking me to perform "technical wizardry" every day while I'm helping him find the Internet (another of his favorites..."I lost the Internet") was just too painful to consider.
I made my decision and I stand by it.
Ahhhh...the good old days.
As has been documented, I've been the "go-to" guy for computer stuff since very early on in my career. My usefulness in this regard has dwindled in recent years, as my company has gotten younger and more and more of my peers have grown up around technology the same way I have. I'll always have a few peeps whose obliviousness will help keep the coffers full, but I sincerely doubt we'll ever approach the levels we saw during the glory days. When I first started, the senior management was literally "senior" - there wasn't a one under 50 (for a guy in his early 20s at the time, that's pretty damn old). Despite being intelligent and successful, these fuckers didn't know a keyboard from a keychain and for that I'm eternally grateful.
There was one higher-up in particular who was always good for a laugh. Like me, he was in early every day, and more often than not, I'd have to provide some sort of tech support for this dude before anyone else got to the office. About a year and a half into my tenure, he discovered that you could put your stocks into some sort of thingie on the Internet and see the quotes all at once (this is how he described it to me after being enlightened by his broker). Knowing that anything more than the most absolute basic portfolio would cause me unbearable pain (in hindsight, it would have also given me great material), I set him up with a Yahoo! finance account and put his portfolio together for him. I even bookmarked it for him, so he could come in and see his portfolio in a single click, rather than going through the yahoo homepage. I set it to keep him logged in and explained that he may, from time to time, have to re-enter his info to access his personal finance page (it made him feel special) and stuck a Post-It with the login details on his monitor. He was appreciative, and fascinated beyond belief.
I was happy to have helped one of my elders with something that he'd never have gotten on his own, and really felt like I taught him something...until the next morning.
I got a call, about 5 minutes after he got in (he was afraid he'd forget his password and be locked out of his computer, so he never shut it down) telling me that his stocks were gone and asking me to work my "technical wizardry" (a favorite saying of his, complete with freaky wiggle of the fingers as if he's trying to cast a spell). I asked him if he was clicking on the bookmark and he stared at me blankly. I then asked how he was trying to get to his portfolio and he told me he was trying to go to the Yahoo Finance address. I was impressed, but also figured I knew the problem. I asked him what the address was (at the time, it was finance.yahoo.com) and he told me it was wwww.yahoofinance.com (the fourth "w" is not a typo...that's actually what he told me, and what was typed in the address bar). I corrected him, re-explained the bookmark concept and all was well again (for a few hours, before he screwed up Microsoft Word...another story for another time).
We repeated this exercise, almost to the word, 4 days a week for the better part of the next 2 months. I bookmarked it for him almost every time and, by the end, he had about 28 bookmarks pointing to Yahoo Finance in his favorites folder. I even tried putting a shortcut on his desktop, telling him to click the special picture (icon) when he wanted to look at his portfolio. That lasted less than a day, as he clicked that for his browser and complained that the "Internet thing" was taking him to his stocks when he wanted to look at something else.
This guy was "asked to leave" eventually and went on to start his own company, which ended up being pretty successful. During the early days of his new life, he tried to recruit me.
He offered me much more money than I was worth at the time and threw in an equity position in the company. Tempting as it was, I just couldn't do it...the thought of my boss wiggling his fingers at me asking me to perform "technical wizardry" every day while I'm helping him find the Internet (another of his favorites..."I lost the Internet") was just too painful to consider.
I made my decision and I stand by it.
Ahhhh...the good old days.
Monday, March 17, 2008
PowerPoint
A colleague just called me and asked if I could help her with something. I go to her office and she's got a PDF ad on her screen for 20% off at Bloomingdales. She asked me if there was a way to tell what version of PowerPoint it was. I cried...
Before I could even come up with a sarcastic answer, she realized she had opened the wrong file, proceeded to open a presentation and asked me again (a legit question - woo hoo). I asked why it mattered, since the only important thing was that we were able to open them here (we're running Office 95 on some machines). She explained to me that her client told her their computers couldn't handle PowerPoint 2008 files. I told her there was nothing to worry about, since the most recent version is 2007, and that if we could open the files, they'd have no problems whatsoever...
Before I could even come up with a sarcastic answer, she realized she had opened the wrong file, proceeded to open a presentation and asked me again (a legit question - woo hoo). I asked why it mattered, since the only important thing was that we were able to open them here (we're running Office 95 on some machines). She explained to me that her client told her their computers couldn't handle PowerPoint 2008 files. I told her there was nothing to worry about, since the most recent version is 2007, and that if we could open the files, they'd have no problems whatsoever...
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Apparently my phone has a CC function...
One thing I was hoping not to have to mention following my international adventure was what often happens post-trip. You see, dear fans, every couple of months, big bossman likes to engage in a sort of character building exercise...these exercises have coincided with our last 2 overseas trips, and sure enough, third time ain't a charm.
What happens is that he'll spend a week or two trying to re-assert his dominance over the tribe by making me his bitch. He'll literally beat me within an inch of my resignation before he goes back to kinda sorta respecting me. At the same time this is going on, one of the other boss-types, seemingly afraid I'll get up and walk out (thereby requiring him to do a LOT more work), does his best to keep the old ego above water during this, reminding me how dumb most of BBM's points are and giving me data points on how well the firm is doing, how great my team is and trying to quantify the size of my individual contributions...it's kind of a nice good-cop/bad-cop dynamic.
Every once in a while, big bossman will come at me with something valid, but 99% of the time it's stupid shit. I'll have a different opinion on how to do something (and, naturally, be wrong), I'll do something that we discussed, but he'll have forgotten the conversation and I'll have to re-explain the logic that had been agreed to a couple of hours earlier.
Today, I had one that may have been a new extreme, and thankfully, there's a tech angle to it...During our overseas adventure, we met with a long-time client who's changing his business. This new endeavor of his could involve helping some of the clients from another department. We've been working to make the connections for him and yesterday, he asked for a little more information. I checked it with my counterparts on the "other side" and called my foreign friend to let him know we were working on it. Today, big bossman asked what we were doing about the request and I told him the people on the other side were looking into it, and that I had called foreign client guy to let him know we were working on it. His response...
"Why wasn't I copied?"
Now, Dr. Nerd has been told (usually by HR people at competing companies) that he's grossly underpaid for what he brings to the table. Because of this Sally Struthers infomercial-level poverty, I'm not always able to stay up to speed on the hottest trends in geek couture, but if this magical, wonderful phone that allows you to CC your boss on calls really exists, I must find it...
Bossman is 0 for his last 2 on these little power trips of his...he's going to be 0 for 3 soon. I may not be able to dish it out any better than Glass Joe (from the old school Mike Tyson's Punch Out), but I'll be damned if I can't take a hit and stay off the canvas.
What happens is that he'll spend a week or two trying to re-assert his dominance over the tribe by making me his bitch. He'll literally beat me within an inch of my resignation before he goes back to kinda sorta respecting me. At the same time this is going on, one of the other boss-types, seemingly afraid I'll get up and walk out (thereby requiring him to do a LOT more work), does his best to keep the old ego above water during this, reminding me how dumb most of BBM's points are and giving me data points on how well the firm is doing, how great my team is and trying to quantify the size of my individual contributions...it's kind of a nice good-cop/bad-cop dynamic.
Every once in a while, big bossman will come at me with something valid, but 99% of the time it's stupid shit. I'll have a different opinion on how to do something (and, naturally, be wrong), I'll do something that we discussed, but he'll have forgotten the conversation and I'll have to re-explain the logic that had been agreed to a couple of hours earlier.
Today, I had one that may have been a new extreme, and thankfully, there's a tech angle to it...During our overseas adventure, we met with a long-time client who's changing his business. This new endeavor of his could involve helping some of the clients from another department. We've been working to make the connections for him and yesterday, he asked for a little more information. I checked it with my counterparts on the "other side" and called my foreign friend to let him know we were working on it. Today, big bossman asked what we were doing about the request and I told him the people on the other side were looking into it, and that I had called foreign client guy to let him know we were working on it. His response...
"Why wasn't I copied?"
Now, Dr. Nerd has been told (usually by HR people at competing companies) that he's grossly underpaid for what he brings to the table. Because of this Sally Struthers infomercial-level poverty, I'm not always able to stay up to speed on the hottest trends in geek couture, but if this magical, wonderful phone that allows you to CC your boss on calls really exists, I must find it...
Bossman is 0 for his last 2 on these little power trips of his...he's going to be 0 for 3 soon. I may not be able to dish it out any better than Glass Joe (from the old school Mike Tyson's Punch Out), but I'll be damned if I can't take a hit and stay off the canvas.
Friday, March 14, 2008
It happens to the best of us
And we now present proof that, after all these years, even Dr. Nerd is capable of a slip up every now and then...
My "inspiration" (the same one who, just last night, figured out the concept of a volume knob all by herself) called me asking for help with Word. She was inserting comments into a document and was utterly baffled at the fact that the comments were showing up not with her name or initials, but with "MS Office 1" as the identifier. I walked her through the changing of the user ID in word, but the comments she had inserted still showed as "MS Office 1." Apparently, our IT rocket scientists gave her a new computer, but forgot to set up certain things for her...like her name rather than a generic identifier (yay team).
I had a theory, but pretended to be stumped. She called over Mr. McGee - her nerd in shining armor from last evening and I went back to my desk to test my theory before looking like a jackass and being subject to the ridicule of my readers. Sure enough, I was right - I opened up a doc that had changes tracked, changed my "ID" name to my Nom de guerre (Robert A. Booey) and made another change to the doc. Sure enough, the changes that were there were under my "real" name, while the new edit showed my homage to the producer from the Stern show.
I ran back down to her office, saw McGee still there, still stumped and took the opportunity to revel in yet another win for the good guys (or me...however you look at it). Went back to my desk to finish up a review of a doc for a colleague which I promptly sent off. Walked over to her workstation (a fancy word for cubicle) to ask her a quick question about something she was reviewing for me, and noticed that my changes to her document were showing up in 2 different colors. I had forgotten to go back from Booey to my real identifier before finishing up that doc.
Thankfully, she enjoyed my flub and I caught it before editing any client documents. Given that they're mostly foreign, I doubt they'd have gotten it.
My "inspiration" (the same one who, just last night, figured out the concept of a volume knob all by herself) called me asking for help with Word. She was inserting comments into a document and was utterly baffled at the fact that the comments were showing up not with her name or initials, but with "MS Office 1" as the identifier. I walked her through the changing of the user ID in word, but the comments she had inserted still showed as "MS Office 1." Apparently, our IT rocket scientists gave her a new computer, but forgot to set up certain things for her...like her name rather than a generic identifier (yay team).
I had a theory, but pretended to be stumped. She called over Mr. McGee - her nerd in shining armor from last evening and I went back to my desk to test my theory before looking like a jackass and being subject to the ridicule of my readers. Sure enough, I was right - I opened up a doc that had changes tracked, changed my "ID" name to my Nom de guerre (Robert A. Booey) and made another change to the doc. Sure enough, the changes that were there were under my "real" name, while the new edit showed my homage to the producer from the Stern show.
I ran back down to her office, saw McGee still there, still stumped and took the opportunity to revel in yet another win for the good guys (or me...however you look at it). Went back to my desk to finish up a review of a doc for a colleague which I promptly sent off. Walked over to her workstation (a fancy word for cubicle) to ask her a quick question about something she was reviewing for me, and noticed that my changes to her document were showing up in 2 different colors. I had forgotten to go back from Booey to my real identifier before finishing up that doc.
Thankfully, she enjoyed my flub and I caught it before editing any client documents. Given that they're mostly foreign, I doubt they'd have gotten it.
Dr. Nerd - By Request
The informal poll about a potential name change yesterday led to an unfortunate email conversation last night about American Idol...the only 2 votes received were from my hillarious co-workers, showing support for their favorite karaoke contestants. After seeing these brilliant quips, I fired off an email to my 2 favorite non-Jewish yentas expressing my shock and dismay that this televised abortion had returned yet again, because, quite frankly, nothing can ever compare to the magical, spectacular wondrousness that was Sanjaya.
Inspired once again by this particular colleague (whose suggestion was the start of the blog you're suffering through now), I shot over to youtube to find the video of Benjy Bronk from the Stern show hijacking CNBC to express his love for both America and "Sangina," in an effort to show that I'm not a complete pop-culture tard. Colleague #1 replied almost immediately, letting me know that her speakers didn't work, and that she "fell angry about that" (typo preserved for posterity). Having been through the magical "no sound" issue with numerous other co-workers (including one who didn't have speakers...perhaps my easiest fix EVER, but that's a story for another time), I fired off the troubleshooting list - plugged in / power on (with red light) / volume knob turned on...to which she angrily (it was almost 8 and she was still at the office while most of the "cool kids" were out at the bar...I'd be pissed too) reminded me that I'm Dr. Nerd, not her. She also informed me that each of my diagnostic tests had been passed, and even added one QC to the list - she confirmed that she had checked the control panel in Windows to make sure the volume there was up (words cannot express how proud I was at that moment). Stumped and tired, I offered to stop by in the morning to try and diagnose the problem with her $4.99 set of speakers (nothing but the best for our senior staffers - mine were actually bought used for $0.75, so I'm a little jealous). Before I could switch over to ESPN to check the hockey scores (the playoff chase is officially upon us), I had another email from said colleague letting me know she fixed it and requesting a post in her honor.
She had no idea how she fixed it, but told me that the volume knob ended up being down. She had sought the help of another male co-worker (who some around the office refer to as tits McGee), who couldn't figure it out either. Proud that she fixed it, but devastated that her speakers had cheated on me and big-daddy-bitchtits (another name I've heard for this dude) was allowed to fiddle with her knobs (I'm still way too tired to come up with anything more creative or more subtle), I changed the subject to how much it sucked that she was stuck in the office working and I was home basking in the misery that is my life outside of work at the moment while a good size group of our compatriots were out getting loaded, having fun and enjoying their youth while both of us have gotten old before our time.
This one's for you pookie - hope I did it justice.
Inspired once again by this particular colleague (whose suggestion was the start of the blog you're suffering through now), I shot over to youtube to find the video of Benjy Bronk from the Stern show hijacking CNBC to express his love for both America and "Sangina," in an effort to show that I'm not a complete pop-culture tard. Colleague #1 replied almost immediately, letting me know that her speakers didn't work, and that she "fell angry about that" (typo preserved for posterity). Having been through the magical "no sound" issue with numerous other co-workers (including one who didn't have speakers...perhaps my easiest fix EVER, but that's a story for another time), I fired off the troubleshooting list - plugged in / power on (with red light) / volume knob turned on...to which she angrily (it was almost 8 and she was still at the office while most of the "cool kids" were out at the bar...I'd be pissed too) reminded me that I'm Dr. Nerd, not her. She also informed me that each of my diagnostic tests had been passed, and even added one QC to the list - she confirmed that she had checked the control panel in Windows to make sure the volume there was up (words cannot express how proud I was at that moment). Stumped and tired, I offered to stop by in the morning to try and diagnose the problem with her $4.99 set of speakers (nothing but the best for our senior staffers - mine were actually bought used for $0.75, so I'm a little jealous). Before I could switch over to ESPN to check the hockey scores (the playoff chase is officially upon us), I had another email from said colleague letting me know she fixed it and requesting a post in her honor.
She had no idea how she fixed it, but told me that the volume knob ended up being down. She had sought the help of another male co-worker (who some around the office refer to as tits McGee), who couldn't figure it out either. Proud that she fixed it, but devastated that her speakers had cheated on me and big-daddy-bitchtits (another name I've heard for this dude) was allowed to fiddle with her knobs (I'm still way too tired to come up with anything more creative or more subtle), I changed the subject to how much it sucked that she was stuck in the office working and I was home basking in the misery that is my life outside of work at the moment while a good size group of our compatriots were out getting loaded, having fun and enjoying their youth while both of us have gotten old before our time.
This one's for you pookie - hope I did it justice.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Sometimes I don't know why I bother...
So after almost a full day back at the office, I have yet to get any good new techno-stories out of this place (our systems barely work right now, so people can't really misuse them, but I was still expecting at least a whopper or two to welcome me back to the office.)
Of course, that hasn't stopped ECB from fucking with me some more...
I really wanted to end the last post on a happy note, so I stopped after the hippie conversation. Of course, when I landed and the emails started pouring in, the first one was from ECB, asking me to review her resignation letter. She's a graphic designer, not a writer, so I ignored the spelling and grammar errors, as well as the fact that if one of my employees gave me this, I'd kick my own ass for hiring someone who writes this way. I started looking at it, but was so tired I just gave up. Opened it again this morning and it dawned on me that she has no clue how to use Word...the margins were off, fonts all over the place, bold in some places, underline in others, italics in yet others...random capitalization - just a freakin mess.
Now, ECB is a graphic designer. She's an expert at programs I've never in my life had any interest in using or learning about (other than to download them from BitTorrent) and has designed things that are really amazing. All this and she can't use the most basic, common waste of megabytes there is. I'm going to fix it for her, because I'm a sucker...
Of course, the real kicker was the second email she sent me. She has a pretty nice Dell notebook that her company bought her. Needless to say, she's going to have to give that bad boy back when she resigns. We have 2 computers "up for grabs" right now and I've told her she can take either of those with her when she moves. Of course, since I just got a new one (bought it while she was away on one of her 3 recent trips to Florida), she thinks she should have a better one too. In this email, she's asking me if I can go, maybe this weekend (when she'll be in Florida again), to look at getting a new labtop for her (yes, she put a b in there). She told me it should be like the one she has (which cost more than double the new one I just bought) because she needed all her graphics software on it. I really have no idea why she's going to need this, but I'll do it anyway, for a couple of reasons...
Of course, that hasn't stopped ECB from fucking with me some more...
I really wanted to end the last post on a happy note, so I stopped after the hippie conversation. Of course, when I landed and the emails started pouring in, the first one was from ECB, asking me to review her resignation letter. She's a graphic designer, not a writer, so I ignored the spelling and grammar errors, as well as the fact that if one of my employees gave me this, I'd kick my own ass for hiring someone who writes this way. I started looking at it, but was so tired I just gave up. Opened it again this morning and it dawned on me that she has no clue how to use Word...the margins were off, fonts all over the place, bold in some places, underline in others, italics in yet others...random capitalization - just a freakin mess.
Now, ECB is a graphic designer. She's an expert at programs I've never in my life had any interest in using or learning about (other than to download them from BitTorrent) and has designed things that are really amazing. All this and she can't use the most basic, common waste of megabytes there is. I'm going to fix it for her, because I'm a sucker...
Of course, the real kicker was the second email she sent me. She has a pretty nice Dell notebook that her company bought her. Needless to say, she's going to have to give that bad boy back when she resigns. We have 2 computers "up for grabs" right now and I've told her she can take either of those with her when she moves. Of course, since I just got a new one (bought it while she was away on one of her 3 recent trips to Florida), she thinks she should have a better one too. In this email, she's asking me if I can go, maybe this weekend (when she'll be in Florida again), to look at getting a new labtop for her (yes, she put a b in there). She told me it should be like the one she has (which cost more than double the new one I just bought) because she needed all her graphics software on it. I really have no idea why she's going to need this, but I'll do it anyway, for a couple of reasons...
- If I don't, she'll go out and buy it herself, most likely before that magical, happy day when we divide our assets and go our separate ways, so I'll be paying for half of it anyway.
- If left to her own devices, she'll overpay for something crappy because it has a nice screen saver or something
- I can accidentally drop a plasma TV (50" or so) into my cart while I'm looking for the laptop. It's very heavy, so I can't lift it to put it back on the shelf. It should slide easily from the cart into the trunk of my car though :-)
- And, of course, because I'm a dumbass
Not so good to be on the road back home again
And with this, Dr. Nerd is once again back in the good old US of A. We have a few more comical misadventures to talk about, but very little in the way of technical trauma that actually inspired this site. We'll be getting back to that stuff as soon as I'm over the jetlag. In the mean time, I offer you more amusement at the pathetic nature of my life.
Had a nice dinner Tuesday with the bossman, guy who heads our affiliate in this country and guy's girlfriend. The vodkas, three beers and a couple of glasses of wine took the edge off nicely, but I wasn't blitzed enough to say no to the suggestion that affiliate guy's girlfriend (who has a daughter 3 years younger than me) call a friend of hers to come by...whenever I'm ready to "get back out there,"I'd like any re-start to be with someone closer to my age. So I'm now loaded, walking from the restaurant back to the hotel to do some more work before my flight (because everything's more fun after a couple of drinks).
Left for the airport with bossman, who had a 7:30 flight (mine was at 10:30) at 5:15, after no sleep, just starting to sober up. I sat in the front of the airport for about an hour and a half, because it was too early to even check in. After a while, I was surrounded by a large group of hicks who I was sure would be on my flight, because 12 hours on a plane isn't good enough by itself. You need 50 people with horrible redneck accents talking about the weird people in the funny hats they had seen on their 'cation and all the good food they "ated" on the trip.
Needing to kill time and not quite ready to try a foreign McDonalds, I hit up Duty Free to try and grab some local wine for myself so I can start building a bar for my upcoming apartment (figure it will class up the joint if I have my wine cellar next to the giant Beavis & Butthead poster). I also had a shopping list from several of my colleagues who wanted various beauty products from a local company. I got everything on my list, including the wine and other crap and went to check out. Showed the beastly cashier my boarding pass and she refused to sell me any of the stuff...apparently my airline doesn't allow liquids over a certain size, even on direct flights. After about 5 minutes of arguing (which seemed like an hour) over how "face mud," "sea salt" and "derma exfoliator" were not really liquid, I gave up sensing that she was about to call the cops on the disgruntled, crazy American.
Tired, angry at my failure to procure the requested schwag from the trip and a little disgruntled, I grabbed a coffee, took a seat and cranked my ipod until we boarded. Got on the plane and there was an asswipe in my seat, trying to rearrange all the cosmetic products he bought at the duty free shop (still trying to figure out how the terrorist looking guy is allowed to buy stuff that they won't sell to the dude who looks like he's about to snap). I politely asked him to rearrange his shit elsewhere, since I wanted to sit down and watched as he moved to the middle seat in my row. Took my seat and thanked the lord above when he then took his own seat, a few rows away (resisted the urge to ask him why the F he needed to do this so far from his assigned seat, but I thought better of it as I didn't think I'd have the patience for the inevitable, incoherent answer). As the plane started to fill, I was still alone in my row (mercifully).
A family of wildabeasts took the seats in front of me, and an extended family (mom, dad, 2 kids and grandparents) had the 2 rows behind me. It should be noted that I had the pleasure of watching and hearing the mother wildabeast in front of me devour 2 big Macs while we were waiting in line at the gate for final bag search before boarding. Upon taking her seat, she whipped out what appeared to be a shopping back from McDonalds with another couple of burgers, fries and various other artery cloggers.
At that point, I was joined by my seat mate, a cute hippie-ish girl from Vermont who I had seen in duty free buying a carton of clove cigarettes and some candy. She was, by far, the best looking girl on the flight and although not really my type, it could have been infinitely worse. Hippie girl realized the carnage that was going on in front of us and shoots me a disgusted look. I take this as an invitation for dialog and make a quick, dumb joke about vegetarianism. She laughed, we started talking about the Dave Matthews Band, the new Counting Crows album and whatever else I could think of that would appeal to her outside of my strict capitalist tendencies. We had an empty seat between us and, about an hour in, she asked if I'd mind her stretching out a little. Made a crack about being willing to sit on the floor if she wanted to take all 3, and her birkenstocked feet were up. Conversation kept going when I was hit with one of the foulest odors I've come across in a while (thankfully, not her feet). We realized, almost simultaneously, that someone in the group behind us (the ~85 year old grandfather, 2.5 year old daughter or 1.5 year old son) had made a mess in their diaper. In a moment of school-age playfulness, she said we should both guess who did it...unfortunately, we were both wrong (it was the daughter). The 12 hours really flew by, with a couple of naps, some of the most awful food known to mankind and an accidental kick to the groin while she was sleeping. As we were getting closer, I took out my laptop to check a document and found out she wasn't a dog person (I have a pic of my 2 soon-to-be ex pugs as my wallpaper). Not that anything would have happened (or that I'd have wanted anything to happen), but tech screwed me again. If nothing else, it was refreshing to see that I could have a conversation with an attractive female.
Coming soon - more tech horror stories and less about my pathetic luck with women.
Finally, one of my readers has requested a name change. Not wanting to bow to public opinion too quickly, I'd like to see what others think. Post a comment on whether or not you like DNTTC (if you don't alternate suggestions would be most appreciated). For those of you who work with me and know my alter ego, feel free to just IM me.
Had a nice dinner Tuesday with the bossman, guy who heads our affiliate in this country and guy's girlfriend. The vodkas, three beers and a couple of glasses of wine took the edge off nicely, but I wasn't blitzed enough to say no to the suggestion that affiliate guy's girlfriend (who has a daughter 3 years younger than me) call a friend of hers to come by...whenever I'm ready to "get back out there,"I'd like any re-start to be with someone closer to my age. So I'm now loaded, walking from the restaurant back to the hotel to do some more work before my flight (because everything's more fun after a couple of drinks).
Left for the airport with bossman, who had a 7:30 flight (mine was at 10:30) at 5:15, after no sleep, just starting to sober up. I sat in the front of the airport for about an hour and a half, because it was too early to even check in. After a while, I was surrounded by a large group of hicks who I was sure would be on my flight, because 12 hours on a plane isn't good enough by itself. You need 50 people with horrible redneck accents talking about the weird people in the funny hats they had seen on their 'cation and all the good food they "ated" on the trip.
Needing to kill time and not quite ready to try a foreign McDonalds, I hit up Duty Free to try and grab some local wine for myself so I can start building a bar for my upcoming apartment (figure it will class up the joint if I have my wine cellar next to the giant Beavis & Butthead poster). I also had a shopping list from several of my colleagues who wanted various beauty products from a local company. I got everything on my list, including the wine and other crap and went to check out. Showed the beastly cashier my boarding pass and she refused to sell me any of the stuff...apparently my airline doesn't allow liquids over a certain size, even on direct flights. After about 5 minutes of arguing (which seemed like an hour) over how "face mud," "sea salt" and "derma exfoliator" were not really liquid, I gave up sensing that she was about to call the cops on the disgruntled, crazy American.
Tired, angry at my failure to procure the requested schwag from the trip and a little disgruntled, I grabbed a coffee, took a seat and cranked my ipod until we boarded. Got on the plane and there was an asswipe in my seat, trying to rearrange all the cosmetic products he bought at the duty free shop (still trying to figure out how the terrorist looking guy is allowed to buy stuff that they won't sell to the dude who looks like he's about to snap). I politely asked him to rearrange his shit elsewhere, since I wanted to sit down and watched as he moved to the middle seat in my row. Took my seat and thanked the lord above when he then took his own seat, a few rows away (resisted the urge to ask him why the F he needed to do this so far from his assigned seat, but I thought better of it as I didn't think I'd have the patience for the inevitable, incoherent answer). As the plane started to fill, I was still alone in my row (mercifully).
A family of wildabeasts took the seats in front of me, and an extended family (mom, dad, 2 kids and grandparents) had the 2 rows behind me. It should be noted that I had the pleasure of watching and hearing the mother wildabeast in front of me devour 2 big Macs while we were waiting in line at the gate for final bag search before boarding. Upon taking her seat, she whipped out what appeared to be a shopping back from McDonalds with another couple of burgers, fries and various other artery cloggers.
At that point, I was joined by my seat mate, a cute hippie-ish girl from Vermont who I had seen in duty free buying a carton of clove cigarettes and some candy. She was, by far, the best looking girl on the flight and although not really my type, it could have been infinitely worse. Hippie girl realized the carnage that was going on in front of us and shoots me a disgusted look. I take this as an invitation for dialog and make a quick, dumb joke about vegetarianism. She laughed, we started talking about the Dave Matthews Band, the new Counting Crows album and whatever else I could think of that would appeal to her outside of my strict capitalist tendencies. We had an empty seat between us and, about an hour in, she asked if I'd mind her stretching out a little. Made a crack about being willing to sit on the floor if she wanted to take all 3, and her birkenstocked feet were up. Conversation kept going when I was hit with one of the foulest odors I've come across in a while (thankfully, not her feet). We realized, almost simultaneously, that someone in the group behind us (the ~85 year old grandfather, 2.5 year old daughter or 1.5 year old son) had made a mess in their diaper. In a moment of school-age playfulness, she said we should both guess who did it...unfortunately, we were both wrong (it was the daughter). The 12 hours really flew by, with a couple of naps, some of the most awful food known to mankind and an accidental kick to the groin while she was sleeping. As we were getting closer, I took out my laptop to check a document and found out she wasn't a dog person (I have a pic of my 2 soon-to-be ex pugs as my wallpaper). Not that anything would have happened (or that I'd have wanted anything to happen), but tech screwed me again. If nothing else, it was refreshing to see that I could have a conversation with an attractive female.
Coming soon - more tech horror stories and less about my pathetic luck with women.
Finally, one of my readers has requested a name change. Not wanting to bow to public opinion too quickly, I'd like to see what others think. Post a comment on whether or not you like DNTTC (if you don't alternate suggestions would be most appreciated). For those of you who work with me and know my alter ego, feel free to just IM me.
Monday, March 10, 2008
ECB strikes again...
So, after my uneventful day, I'm getting ready for bed when my cell rings. It's a number I've never seen before and, thinking it was a client, I answer. Much to my surprise, ECB had listed me as a reference for a job she had applied for and they were calling me, on my cell, while in another country, late at night, to see what I thought of her. I'm drunk and tired, but apparently my desire to move on with my life superseded my desire to screw her over. I recounted certain of the more positive aspects of our time as co-workers...both pre- and post- secret office romance (obviously not mentioning the fact that I'm her soon-to-be ex husband...one good thing about her refusing to take my name).
After 15 minutes on the phone with prospective employer, I got ready for bed, just as email started working again.
The first 2 messages that popped up in my inbox...a note from ECB telling me she had given me as a reference and she hoped I wouldn't be spiteful (sent about 10 minutes before the call came in...good to know email's being routed in a timely manner), and 2, another note from ECB asking me to look at an email she was going to send to a prospective employer before she sent it (I was a "professional writing" major in college, so she thinks I know what I'm doing). Forgetting for a second that I am in fact NOT "shmucky the clown," I re-wrote the email for her to make it sound like she was qualified for the job (which I had to explain to her before embarking on my international adventure). If this was a local job, I'd have ignored it, but it's something that would require her to move about a thousand miles away from me, giving me more freedom than I'd otherwise have (even when we're no longer together, the closer she is, the more she'll try to control me...that's just the way she is).
If only email had stayed down another 20 minutes, I'd be asleep right now instead of typing this shit up. On the bright side, I'm also listening to Howard Stern...trying to find a positive in an otherwise crap-tacular chain of events...technology, you have screwed me yet again. Why hast thou forsaken me?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?
After 15 minutes on the phone with prospective employer, I got ready for bed, just as email started working again.
The first 2 messages that popped up in my inbox...a note from ECB telling me she had given me as a reference and she hoped I wouldn't be spiteful (sent about 10 minutes before the call came in...good to know email's being routed in a timely manner), and 2, another note from ECB asking me to look at an email she was going to send to a prospective employer before she sent it (I was a "professional writing" major in college, so she thinks I know what I'm doing). Forgetting for a second that I am in fact NOT "shmucky the clown," I re-wrote the email for her to make it sound like she was qualified for the job (which I had to explain to her before embarking on my international adventure). If this was a local job, I'd have ignored it, but it's something that would require her to move about a thousand miles away from me, giving me more freedom than I'd otherwise have (even when we're no longer together, the closer she is, the more she'll try to control me...that's just the way she is).
If only email had stayed down another 20 minutes, I'd be asleep right now instead of typing this shit up. On the bright side, I'm also listening to Howard Stern...trying to find a positive in an otherwise crap-tacular chain of events...technology, you have screwed me yet again. Why hast thou forsaken me?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?
I've really got nothing today...
And this ends a semi-uneventful day 2 of Dr. Nerd's international adventure. Slept late following last night's depressing escapade at the hotel bar (cute nerd girl's company packed up and left this morning, and with her went my chances...thanks ECB). ECB still trying to screw with me via email, testing my resolve (and I'm winning - woo hoo).
Had some good meetings today, including lunch with a former client, which took awkward to new heights. We've always been close with this particular ex client, so much so that she's more of a friend than anything else. At lunch, she mentioned that I was "looking good," (awkward moment #1) asked how much weight I had lost since our last meeting (1A) and asking what my "secret" was (1B). Before I could give the fall-back answer (I was sick for a month), she noticed the absence of my wedding ring and demanded to know what was up. I gave her the quickie explanation, that ECB told me she wanted out and I couldn't be happier, and before I could finish the sentence, big bossman was already asking ex client lady (very attractive for her age) to hook me up with any of her hottie friends before we headed back stateside. I thought I had seen all the awkward situations I could, but when I was sitting there with boss and former client, listening to them discuss the arrangement potential one-night-stands on my behalf, I realized that THIS was the most awkward, potentially scariest, moment of my life. I appreciated the fact that I had people "looking out" for me, but Jeebus...this was too much.
Now, to find the tech tie-in...I came back to my room after the meetings for a little break before dinner with bossman and noticed that our email was down again (based on the dozen IMs I received from colleagues within ~10 minutes of logging on). Went to dinner and bossman wasn't aware until he received an email from one of the clients we met yesterday and noticed that the "send" time stamp was ~3 hours before he received it. I spent the rest of dinner drinking, listening to him bust all sorts of balls on our IT people and various others in the organization. A half bottle of wine and liter of beer later, and he was calm again...our email may or may not be working right now, but I've got enough of a buzz that I don't care. Stopped into the bar before coming up to my room, but no cute nerd-girls to be found. I wasn't "on the prowl" or anything, but figured there was no harm in peeking in to make sure cute nerd girl wasn't there.
ECB emailed me asking for help with an email following up on a job interview she had recently. I think it might help take her away from me for an extra weekend (and bring her closer to being geographically out of my life forever), so it's worth the 5 minutes I'll spend on it before passing out.
Bye for now...
Had some good meetings today, including lunch with a former client, which took awkward to new heights. We've always been close with this particular ex client, so much so that she's more of a friend than anything else. At lunch, she mentioned that I was "looking good," (awkward moment #1) asked how much weight I had lost since our last meeting (1A) and asking what my "secret" was (1B). Before I could give the fall-back answer (I was sick for a month), she noticed the absence of my wedding ring and demanded to know what was up. I gave her the quickie explanation, that ECB told me she wanted out and I couldn't be happier, and before I could finish the sentence, big bossman was already asking ex client lady (very attractive for her age) to hook me up with any of her hottie friends before we headed back stateside. I thought I had seen all the awkward situations I could, but when I was sitting there with boss and former client, listening to them discuss the arrangement potential one-night-stands on my behalf, I realized that THIS was the most awkward, potentially scariest, moment of my life. I appreciated the fact that I had people "looking out" for me, but Jeebus...this was too much.
Now, to find the tech tie-in...I came back to my room after the meetings for a little break before dinner with bossman and noticed that our email was down again (based on the dozen IMs I received from colleagues within ~10 minutes of logging on). Went to dinner and bossman wasn't aware until he received an email from one of the clients we met yesterday and noticed that the "send" time stamp was ~3 hours before he received it. I spent the rest of dinner drinking, listening to him bust all sorts of balls on our IT people and various others in the organization. A half bottle of wine and liter of beer later, and he was calm again...our email may or may not be working right now, but I've got enough of a buzz that I don't care. Stopped into the bar before coming up to my room, but no cute nerd-girls to be found. I wasn't "on the prowl" or anything, but figured there was no harm in peeking in to make sure cute nerd girl wasn't there.
ECB emailed me asking for help with an email following up on a job interview she had recently. I think it might help take her away from me for an extra weekend (and bring her closer to being geographically out of my life forever), so it's worth the 5 minutes I'll spend on it before passing out.
Bye for now...
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Technology is still great, except when it sucks...
And thus ends day 1 of Dr. Nerd's international adventure. 12 hours, 5 meetings, 4 clients, 1 potential client and hyper-exhaustion. Big bossman only took part in the middle 3 meetings, so I started 2.5 hours earlier and ended 3 hours later. He had a dinner so I was on for the evening (thankfully).
ECB emailed me to tell me she misses me and she hopes I'm having fun, which means she hopes I'm not having fun but she wants to screw with my head (I wish I hadn't asked for my blackberry to be reactivated). I'm normally not such a raging cynic (just a regular cynic - not raging though), but, but she seems determined to ruin any bit of fun I have, in between emails and calls telling me she hopes I can enjoy myself). As I was getting ready to leave Friday, running around the house like a nut job, the digital TV commercial that inspired the recent story from the ShitHead chronicles came on and I made the mistake of cracking a smile. ECB, playing Peggy Bundy to my defeated Al, sensed happiness and demanded to know what was behind the smile so she could ruin it.
My Blackberry data was working, but the phone was still not activated (or was, but had been turned back off). There was a hockey game I wanted to see on satellite in the hotel bar, so after my meetings and a quick nap, I freshened up and headed down. There happen to be 2 very prominent tech companies having events in the hotel this week, one of which I know quite well since they bought one of my formerly wonderful companies. What I didn't know, until I got to the bar, was that their marketing department on the West Coast is home to a gaggle of cute nerd-girls who descended upon the bar at the conclusion of their seminars or meetings or whatever it is they're here for. I was on my second pint, about halfway through the game, when the geeky goodness started filling the bar.
In my three trips to this particular country, I've been mistaken for a "local" no fewer than a dozen times. I should have known that 13 can never be a lucky number but couldn't resist trying to overcome traditional superstiton when one of the compu-cuties sat down next to me and expressed her surprise a the fact that people in this part of the world liked North American hockey. She laughed (with me, not at me) after my attempt to answer in a Canadian accent (complete with egregious use of the word "eh"). This was her first visit and she seemed interested in getting another American's take on the country. I was about midway through my fourth pint (she was on her second 'tini of some sort) and getting into the story about how I simultaneously respected and despised her company for stealing my favorite client when technology decided to screw me over again as the blackberry started buzzing. I didn't pay any attention to the emails of the blinking light indicating a new SMS, but when the phone started to ring, she suggested I answer it. Apparently ECB once again sensed that I was enjoying myself and called to say she missed me, she was worried that I hadn't answered my phone (I had emailed her earlier telling her that my phone wasn't working) and asking if I had time to talk. Through some sad combination of stupidity and compassion for the woman who had recently begun her quest to ruin my life, I told cute tech girl that I had to run up to my room for a few minutes to make a quick call. Got up to the room, answered the phone and listened to her talk to me about nothing important (unless you consider her walk in the park and trip to Target to be life-altering experiences). After this mind-numbing conversation, I was exhausted but determined to get back to the bar, numb my mind further via alcohol consumption and re-open the lines of communication with cute marketing girl. Shock of shocks, I got back down there and she was gone.
Technology giveth (attractive, geeky girls in town to learn about their companies' technology and bored / desperate enough to talk to me), and technology taketh away (attractive, geeky girls, thanks to my blackberry being turned back on just soon enough for an impeccably timed phone calls from ECB that I'm dumb enough to answer).
ECB emailed me to tell me she misses me and she hopes I'm having fun, which means she hopes I'm not having fun but she wants to screw with my head (I wish I hadn't asked for my blackberry to be reactivated). I'm normally not such a raging cynic (just a regular cynic - not raging though), but, but she seems determined to ruin any bit of fun I have, in between emails and calls telling me she hopes I can enjoy myself). As I was getting ready to leave Friday, running around the house like a nut job, the digital TV commercial that inspired the recent story from the ShitHead chronicles came on and I made the mistake of cracking a smile. ECB, playing Peggy Bundy to my defeated Al, sensed happiness and demanded to know what was behind the smile so she could ruin it.
My Blackberry data was working, but the phone was still not activated (or was, but had been turned back off). There was a hockey game I wanted to see on satellite in the hotel bar, so after my meetings and a quick nap, I freshened up and headed down. There happen to be 2 very prominent tech companies having events in the hotel this week, one of which I know quite well since they bought one of my formerly wonderful companies. What I didn't know, until I got to the bar, was that their marketing department on the West Coast is home to a gaggle of cute nerd-girls who descended upon the bar at the conclusion of their seminars or meetings or whatever it is they're here for. I was on my second pint, about halfway through the game, when the geeky goodness started filling the bar.
In my three trips to this particular country, I've been mistaken for a "local" no fewer than a dozen times. I should have known that 13 can never be a lucky number but couldn't resist trying to overcome traditional superstiton when one of the compu-cuties sat down next to me and expressed her surprise a the fact that people in this part of the world liked North American hockey. She laughed (with me, not at me) after my attempt to answer in a Canadian accent (complete with egregious use of the word "eh"). This was her first visit and she seemed interested in getting another American's take on the country. I was about midway through my fourth pint (she was on her second 'tini of some sort) and getting into the story about how I simultaneously respected and despised her company for stealing my favorite client when technology decided to screw me over again as the blackberry started buzzing. I didn't pay any attention to the emails of the blinking light indicating a new SMS, but when the phone started to ring, she suggested I answer it. Apparently ECB once again sensed that I was enjoying myself and called to say she missed me, she was worried that I hadn't answered my phone (I had emailed her earlier telling her that my phone wasn't working) and asking if I had time to talk. Through some sad combination of stupidity and compassion for the woman who had recently begun her quest to ruin my life, I told cute tech girl that I had to run up to my room for a few minutes to make a quick call. Got up to the room, answered the phone and listened to her talk to me about nothing important (unless you consider her walk in the park and trip to Target to be life-altering experiences). After this mind-numbing conversation, I was exhausted but determined to get back to the bar, numb my mind further via alcohol consumption and re-open the lines of communication with cute marketing girl. Shock of shocks, I got back down there and she was gone.
Technology giveth (attractive, geeky girls in town to learn about their companies' technology and bored / desperate enough to talk to me), and technology taketh away (attractive, geeky girls, thanks to my blackberry being turned back on just soon enough for an impeccably timed phone calls from ECB that I'm dumb enough to answer).
Saturday, March 8, 2008
SH*T...He's still alive...
For those that lack familiarity with classic stand-up comedy, that's a line from a great Denis Leary bit (from his "No Cure for Cancer" show - definitely worth a listen if you're unfamiliar with his work). It also describes Dr. Nerd's feeling about himself right now. I survived dinner with big boss man, who took the news of my limited functionality surprisingly well. In fact, he didn't flip out at all, much less the code orange I was expecting...it seems as though the three scotches and 2 glasses of wine were enough to soothe the savage beast. Meanwhile, it's 11:30 at night, I'm buzzed after 2 liters of beer (roughly 5 pints I think) with dinner, watching the top 10 Linkin Park videos of all time (apparently MTV still plays music videos in some countries), with my first meeting at 7:00 tomorrow morning.
Oh yeah, despite assurances from account manager lady that it was fixed, my device still doesn't work...
If there's a bright side to this somewhat unfortunate beginning, I may have indirectly helped a co-worker (who may or may not be among my microscopic audience) with one of her technical difficulties. She hasn't had a working phone in her office in 2 days. The answers she's gotten from our "technical" staff have been abous as absurd as those that I normally get ("reboot your phone" was the most logical suggestion they gave, of course, it didn't work). In a purely selfish move, I brought colleague's problems up to big boss man at dinner in an effort to deflect from my own issues. He took it surprisingly well, asking me in a calm, rational tone why the eff these effing people cant get something as simple as an effing phone to work the way it's effing supposed to. I, calmly, tried explaining to him that it's because the people who are in charge of making the stuff work the way it's supposed to don't understand how it's supposed to work in the first place. He laughed, and sent an email off to the person responsible for the phones, saying that this co-worker's phone better effing be working by Monday morning. I really don't have much confidence in their ability to get it working by Monday morning, but on the off chance that it does and on the more off chance that said co-worker sees this, you're welcome ;-)
adios for now
Oh yeah, despite assurances from account manager lady that it was fixed, my device still doesn't work...
If there's a bright side to this somewhat unfortunate beginning, I may have indirectly helped a co-worker (who may or may not be among my microscopic audience) with one of her technical difficulties. She hasn't had a working phone in her office in 2 days. The answers she's gotten from our "technical" staff have been abous as absurd as those that I normally get ("reboot your phone" was the most logical suggestion they gave, of course, it didn't work). In a purely selfish move, I brought colleague's problems up to big boss man at dinner in an effort to deflect from my own issues. He took it surprisingly well, asking me in a calm, rational tone why the eff these effing people cant get something as simple as an effing phone to work the way it's effing supposed to. I, calmly, tried explaining to him that it's because the people who are in charge of making the stuff work the way it's supposed to don't understand how it's supposed to work in the first place. He laughed, and sent an email off to the person responsible for the phones, saying that this co-worker's phone better effing be working by Monday morning. I really don't have much confidence in their ability to get it working by Monday morning, but on the off chance that it does and on the more off chance that said co-worker sees this, you're welcome ;-)
adios for now
Technology is great, except when it sucks
This begins the saga of Dr. Nerd's international adventure. I left last night for an important (in my twisted little mind at least) business trip with the big boss (not the "boss types" that have already been written about...THE boss). I just checked into my hotel and already have many many stories, some involving tech, others just involving the shit that always seems to happen to me. I'll start with the tech stuff.
Last night, I'm running around my house like a mental patient, making sure I have all my stuff and that I'm prepared for the inevitable hell that awaits on the other side of the globe. My soon-to-be ex wife (heretofore known as evil controlling beeotch, or some combination of the letters E, C and B, for short) seemed really upset that I was going, telling me she was going to miss me and "reminding" me that she loved me (it should be noted that she's the one that wanted the divorce, not me). Not wanting to be a big jerk, I resisted the urge to politely ask her to shut the F up, remind her that the separation was her idea and she should be happy she was getting what she wanted, or that she had plenty of opportunities to keep me during the first couple of weeks, when I was in pathetic blubbering shmuck mode, begging her to reconsider before I pulled head from tuchus and realized that beautiful ECB < attractive woman who is neither E, nor C, nor B and that maybe, just maybe, I wasn't as big a loser as she told me and that I actually could do better (or at least as good...another hot chick that makes me hate life and everything associated with it). Anway, ECB and I only have one car, which she needed, so I had to take a car service to the airport. As I'm getting ready to walk out the door, she starts screaming and cursing because I "packed" the charger for her laptop. I'm smart enough to know that wasn't the case but had to open my suitcase to show her it wasn't there. Feeling sorry for her (yes, I'm a sucker), I helped her look for it. It should also be noted that we had 2 other computers in the house which she could have used had I not been able to find the charger for her (it was in her laptop case).
Anyway, the driver came and I immediately recognized him from another, absolutely nightmarish trip with two other colleagues in which we literally feared for our lives. This was bad omen #4...
I've never flown first or business class, and wasn't terribly disappointed to make this 12 hour trip in coach (as usual). I had a middle seat, which wasn't great but it was an oversold flight so I took what I could get. I was the first one in the row and made the mistake of thinking it might not suck too much when my first seat-neighbor arrived - a reasonably pretty software engineer (something I never knew existed). I was familiar with the company she worked for (it's one of the biggest in this region) so we started talking and I was able to put aside the visions of my fiery death for a few seconds...until seat neighbor #2 showed up. I didn't speak to him, but got his entire life story during the flight as he sat next to me, trying to flirt with the three giggly, dipshitty sisters on a family vacation. He was a junior in college, a clarinet major (and I thought English was pathetic), who seemed to weigh somewhere in the vicinity of 275. Now, I'm not a picture of physical fitness or attractiveness, but between this tool and some of the other specimens on the flight, I was actually feeling like one of the better looking fellows on the plane and it seemed as though cute software chick agreed...until, just after takeoff, when clarinet boy knocked a can of diet coke over as he was trying to take out his instrument to show giggle bitches 1, 2 and 3 behind him. Said can of diet soda, thankfully only half full, missed me but got her. She fell asleep pretty quickly after cleaning herself up and our little flirty conversation was but a memory (just in case clarinet boy sees this...thanks asshole).
I landed in my foreign home for the next couple of days and pulled out my blackberry to see if I had a driver or if I'd need to grab a cab. Mind you, this is my third trip to this region in a little over a year and I have yet to have any mobile issues...until now. Despite repeated assurances from the person at my company that manages the corporate cell accounts that I was all set up and that it would work as it always has, it doesn't. I tried all of the fixes I'm aware of to no avail, and upon arrival at my hotel (a very nice room, thankfully), I sent her a frantic email asking for help. One thing I've left out thus far is that "big boss," my travel companion for the next few days, has a bit of a temper. If he finds out I'm technologically crippled, I'll be trying to find a terrorist to take me out, as it will be slightly less painful and bloody than his wrath.
Now, I can't be too upset, since it is the weekend back home, but manager lady did respond quickly...with the phone number for the carrier, suggesting that I call them FROM MY CELL (which doesn't actually work). I (politely) pointed this out to her and she called on my behalf. Told me that they were fixing it and that I should reset the device and I'd be fine, but that I'd need to call them when I was up and running. I'm on my eighth reset of the device right now, and it still doesn't work. I have to meet big boss for drinks in about 15 minutes, so this could very well be Dr. Nerd's final story before he meets his untimely demise...unless of course, the gods and goddesses of technology decide to smile upon me (in other words, I'm screwed...I hope both of you have enjoyed my feeble attempts at creating entertainment out of maddening situations).
Shalom
Last night, I'm running around my house like a mental patient, making sure I have all my stuff and that I'm prepared for the inevitable hell that awaits on the other side of the globe. My soon-to-be ex wife (heretofore known as evil controlling beeotch, or some combination of the letters E, C and B, for short) seemed really upset that I was going, telling me she was going to miss me and "reminding" me that she loved me (it should be noted that she's the one that wanted the divorce, not me). Not wanting to be a big jerk, I resisted the urge to politely ask her to shut the F up, remind her that the separation was her idea and she should be happy she was getting what she wanted, or that she had plenty of opportunities to keep me during the first couple of weeks, when I was in pathetic blubbering shmuck mode, begging her to reconsider before I pulled head from tuchus and realized that beautiful ECB < attractive woman who is neither E, nor C, nor B and that maybe, just maybe, I wasn't as big a loser as she told me and that I actually could do better (or at least as good...another hot chick that makes me hate life and everything associated with it). Anway, ECB and I only have one car, which she needed, so I had to take a car service to the airport. As I'm getting ready to walk out the door, she starts screaming and cursing because I "packed" the charger for her laptop. I'm smart enough to know that wasn't the case but had to open my suitcase to show her it wasn't there. Feeling sorry for her (yes, I'm a sucker), I helped her look for it. It should also be noted that we had 2 other computers in the house which she could have used had I not been able to find the charger for her (it was in her laptop case).
Anyway, the driver came and I immediately recognized him from another, absolutely nightmarish trip with two other colleagues in which we literally feared for our lives. This was bad omen #4...
- The country I was visiting is known for political unrest, and there had been a flare up very recently
- The weather was horrible, but my flight was on schedule...it felt like I might die in a plane crash before the terrorists even had their shot
- This numb-nut driver, who almost killed me once, was back to try and get it right this time
- Divorce is underway, we sold our house and I now have an official countdown to regaining my freedom - it would be fitting for me to cease to fumble life's football deep in the red zone
I've never flown first or business class, and wasn't terribly disappointed to make this 12 hour trip in coach (as usual). I had a middle seat, which wasn't great but it was an oversold flight so I took what I could get. I was the first one in the row and made the mistake of thinking it might not suck too much when my first seat-neighbor arrived - a reasonably pretty software engineer (something I never knew existed). I was familiar with the company she worked for (it's one of the biggest in this region) so we started talking and I was able to put aside the visions of my fiery death for a few seconds...until seat neighbor #2 showed up. I didn't speak to him, but got his entire life story during the flight as he sat next to me, trying to flirt with the three giggly, dipshitty sisters on a family vacation. He was a junior in college, a clarinet major (and I thought English was pathetic), who seemed to weigh somewhere in the vicinity of 275. Now, I'm not a picture of physical fitness or attractiveness, but between this tool and some of the other specimens on the flight, I was actually feeling like one of the better looking fellows on the plane and it seemed as though cute software chick agreed...until, just after takeoff, when clarinet boy knocked a can of diet coke over as he was trying to take out his instrument to show giggle bitches 1, 2 and 3 behind him. Said can of diet soda, thankfully only half full, missed me but got her. She fell asleep pretty quickly after cleaning herself up and our little flirty conversation was but a memory (just in case clarinet boy sees this...thanks asshole).
I landed in my foreign home for the next couple of days and pulled out my blackberry to see if I had a driver or if I'd need to grab a cab. Mind you, this is my third trip to this region in a little over a year and I have yet to have any mobile issues...until now. Despite repeated assurances from the person at my company that manages the corporate cell accounts that I was all set up and that it would work as it always has, it doesn't. I tried all of the fixes I'm aware of to no avail, and upon arrival at my hotel (a very nice room, thankfully), I sent her a frantic email asking for help. One thing I've left out thus far is that "big boss," my travel companion for the next few days, has a bit of a temper. If he finds out I'm technologically crippled, I'll be trying to find a terrorist to take me out, as it will be slightly less painful and bloody than his wrath.
Now, I can't be too upset, since it is the weekend back home, but manager lady did respond quickly...with the phone number for the carrier, suggesting that I call them FROM MY CELL (which doesn't actually work). I (politely) pointed this out to her and she called on my behalf. Told me that they were fixing it and that I should reset the device and I'd be fine, but that I'd need to call them when I was up and running. I'm on my eighth reset of the device right now, and it still doesn't work. I have to meet big boss for drinks in about 15 minutes, so this could very well be Dr. Nerd's final story before he meets his untimely demise...unless of course, the gods and goddesses of technology decide to smile upon me (in other words, I'm screwed...I hope both of you have enjoyed my feeble attempts at creating entertainment out of maddening situations).
Shalom
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Childhood Memories
Lest anyone think I became such a cynical prick only because of my professional life, the seeds of my insanity were planted long, long ago. I came home at around 8:30 tonight and turned on a hockey game. During the game, I saw a commercial about the whole digital TV in 2009 thing. There was a picture of an old-school television shown, which made me think of one of my earliest and (still) funniest tech support situations. Even as a child, I was the "tech guy," helping friends, relatives, friends of relatives and relatives of friends. Even in my young, innocent years, I had a great appreciation for the stupidity of those around me and the absurdity of the situations they dragged me into.
The Backstory:
One of my best friends through childhood and into my teenage years was a kid that lived a block away from me. We met on the first day of kindergarten and were inseparable from that point on...until I got to college and realized that this putz was bringing me down. This kid was "special" (in the short bus sense). So much so that, when we were about 10, I stopped using his name and just referred to him as "ShitHead." I haven't spoken to ShitHead in almost 8 years, so it's a little tough to describe him. The best I can do is a hybrid of Beavis, Butthead and Napoleon Dynamite. I've got volumes of stories from the ShitHead years, but I'm saving most of them for whenever I can muster up the chutzpah (balls, for those of you who require translation) to sign up for open mic night at a comedy club. If I can weave these stories into the more recent tales of my comically pathetic life, I think it would kill. Anyway, there's at least one technical trauma from the ShitHead years; one that I hadn't thought about in quite some time, that was triggered by that picture of that old TV on that commercial during that hockey game...
When we were 13, ShitHead's father wanted a "big screen" TV. Mr. "Head" asked me to come with them to the mall to help them pick a good one, and they went home with a brand new 32" Sony Trinitron (this was the early 90's - 32" was friggin huge for that time). The biggest TV in my house at the time was a whopping 20 inches, so I was naturally jealous of ShitHead, Mr. and Mrs. Head and their new tele. This shopping trip took place on a Saturday morning. I had a baseball game that afternoon so I couldn't go back to their house to help them set it up. I was able to channel my jealousy into a 3 for 4 afternoon with two doubles and a victory for my team (we finished 3 and 11 that year, so every victory was sweet). I was home that night watching a baseball game with my father when, around 8:30, the phone rang...it was ShitHead.
He asked me to turn on HBO for a second...the game was going to commercial for a pitching change, so I flipped. Saw a few people standing in an apartment lobby talking and wondered what was so great about this. ShitHead proceeded to ask me if the people on my TV were speaking Spanish - they weren't. He said they were on his TV, and that he spent 20 minutes on the phone with the cable company, who couldn't help him. He wondered if I could come over and try to fix it. I asked my parents if I could go and they said it was fine, so my mother walked me over to SH's house a block away (I grew up in a semi-crappy neighborhood, raised by two sickeningly over-protective people). I get to ShitHead's house, walk into the living room to see SH sitting on the floor, about 18 inches from the screen. Mrs. Head is sitting on the couch, eating popcorn and Mr. Head is in his recliner, eating an english muffin pizza (I said they were some strange people). I hadn't actually looked at the TV just yet, as I hadn't heard this mysterious Spanish dialog. I'm trying to get ShitHead to explain to me what happened when I hear a couple of words in Spanish before a cut...
To a naked Sharon Stone, masturbating in the bathtub, with strange Spanish words dubbed over her moaning. Apparently this movie that ShitHead was watching with the folks was that cinematic masterpiece Sliver.
I'm 13 years old...female nudity of any kind is supposed to be a highlight. At that point in my life, the only thing I was aware of that could ruin the mystique of televised breasts was the presence of a parent. I then realized there was something more uncomfortable, much more uncomfortable than televised nudity in the presence of a parent...being called to a friend's house to fix his TV, standing in his living room, with his parents and my mother, while a washed up actress diddles herself on a giant screen.
ShitHead couldn't divert his attention from the wonders of what was on the TV, so I grabbed the remote off the floor, pressed the SAP button and Sharon started moaning in English, like she was supposed to.
I left to go back to my baseball game, scarred for life, without so much as a thank you. Looking back on it, ShitHead didn't really say much of anything while I was there fixing his TV...the only sounds I remember were "huh huh...huh huh huh...boobs...huh huh...thingies...huh huh huh" on what seemed like an endless loop. Yes, he really was that stupid.
Of course, I was friends with this numbnut for about 15 years...which one of us was really the ShitHead?
The Backstory:
One of my best friends through childhood and into my teenage years was a kid that lived a block away from me. We met on the first day of kindergarten and were inseparable from that point on...until I got to college and realized that this putz was bringing me down. This kid was "special" (in the short bus sense). So much so that, when we were about 10, I stopped using his name and just referred to him as "ShitHead." I haven't spoken to ShitHead in almost 8 years, so it's a little tough to describe him. The best I can do is a hybrid of Beavis, Butthead and Napoleon Dynamite. I've got volumes of stories from the ShitHead years, but I'm saving most of them for whenever I can muster up the chutzpah (balls, for those of you who require translation) to sign up for open mic night at a comedy club. If I can weave these stories into the more recent tales of my comically pathetic life, I think it would kill. Anyway, there's at least one technical trauma from the ShitHead years; one that I hadn't thought about in quite some time, that was triggered by that picture of that old TV on that commercial during that hockey game...
When we were 13, ShitHead's father wanted a "big screen" TV. Mr. "Head" asked me to come with them to the mall to help them pick a good one, and they went home with a brand new 32" Sony Trinitron (this was the early 90's - 32" was friggin huge for that time). The biggest TV in my house at the time was a whopping 20 inches, so I was naturally jealous of ShitHead, Mr. and Mrs. Head and their new tele. This shopping trip took place on a Saturday morning. I had a baseball game that afternoon so I couldn't go back to their house to help them set it up. I was able to channel my jealousy into a 3 for 4 afternoon with two doubles and a victory for my team (we finished 3 and 11 that year, so every victory was sweet). I was home that night watching a baseball game with my father when, around 8:30, the phone rang...it was ShitHead.
He asked me to turn on HBO for a second...the game was going to commercial for a pitching change, so I flipped. Saw a few people standing in an apartment lobby talking and wondered what was so great about this. ShitHead proceeded to ask me if the people on my TV were speaking Spanish - they weren't. He said they were on his TV, and that he spent 20 minutes on the phone with the cable company, who couldn't help him. He wondered if I could come over and try to fix it. I asked my parents if I could go and they said it was fine, so my mother walked me over to SH's house a block away (I grew up in a semi-crappy neighborhood, raised by two sickeningly over-protective people). I get to ShitHead's house, walk into the living room to see SH sitting on the floor, about 18 inches from the screen. Mrs. Head is sitting on the couch, eating popcorn and Mr. Head is in his recliner, eating an english muffin pizza (I said they were some strange people). I hadn't actually looked at the TV just yet, as I hadn't heard this mysterious Spanish dialog. I'm trying to get ShitHead to explain to me what happened when I hear a couple of words in Spanish before a cut...
To a naked Sharon Stone, masturbating in the bathtub, with strange Spanish words dubbed over her moaning. Apparently this movie that ShitHead was watching with the folks was that cinematic masterpiece Sliver.
I'm 13 years old...female nudity of any kind is supposed to be a highlight. At that point in my life, the only thing I was aware of that could ruin the mystique of televised breasts was the presence of a parent. I then realized there was something more uncomfortable, much more uncomfortable than televised nudity in the presence of a parent...being called to a friend's house to fix his TV, standing in his living room, with his parents and my mother, while a washed up actress diddles herself on a giant screen.
ShitHead couldn't divert his attention from the wonders of what was on the TV, so I grabbed the remote off the floor, pressed the SAP button and Sharon started moaning in English, like she was supposed to.
I left to go back to my baseball game, scarred for life, without so much as a thank you. Looking back on it, ShitHead didn't really say much of anything while I was there fixing his TV...the only sounds I remember were "huh huh...huh huh huh...boobs...huh huh...thingies...huh huh huh" on what seemed like an endless loop. Yes, he really was that stupid.
Of course, I was friends with this numbnut for about 15 years...which one of us was really the ShitHead?
A few from the archives...
On the way back from my meeting, I thought I saw a former co-worker walking in front of me. Thankfully, it turned out to be another morbidly obese woman and not the one whose attitude, back-stabbing tendencies and deep understanding of computers made my life a living hell. On the bright side, it reminded me of a couple more gems.
One morning, Shamu calls me in a panic telling me she has to get a document finished and mailed out asap, but her computer is "bugging out." Asking for an English translation got me nowhere, so I had to get up, walk down the hall and venture into the land of frappuchinos and twinkies. Apparently her cursor just started moving all over the place at random despite the fact that she wasn't doing anything...she took her elbow off the space bar and it worked properly again.
She finished her document and called me again about 20 minutes later, again in a panic, telling me she had saved it and went to re-open it before sending and it looked "all messed up." She cursed out our IT people, the network, her computer and Bill Gates himself. I pulled the file up on my machine and it looked fine (despite the typos and poor command of the English language, but that's another story entirely) so I went back down, through the cupcake forest, across the gumdrop trail and took the ferry back to Oreo island. Once I managed to move the devil dog wrappers out of the way so I could see her monitor, I grabbed her mouse, closed Excel and re-opened the file in Word...it looked fine after that.
One morning, Shamu calls me in a panic telling me she has to get a document finished and mailed out asap, but her computer is "bugging out." Asking for an English translation got me nowhere, so I had to get up, walk down the hall and venture into the land of frappuchinos and twinkies. Apparently her cursor just started moving all over the place at random despite the fact that she wasn't doing anything...she took her elbow off the space bar and it worked properly again.
She finished her document and called me again about 20 minutes later, again in a panic, telling me she had saved it and went to re-open it before sending and it looked "all messed up." She cursed out our IT people, the network, her computer and Bill Gates himself. I pulled the file up on my machine and it looked fine (despite the typos and poor command of the English language, but that's another story entirely) so I went back down, through the cupcake forest, across the gumdrop trail and took the ferry back to Oreo island. Once I managed to move the devil dog wrappers out of the way so I could see her monitor, I grabbed her mouse, closed Excel and re-opened the file in Word...it looked fine after that.
MAKE IT STOP...SWEET MOTHER OF MERCY, MAKE IT STOP
Since I can't do anything else right now, I figure I'll continue populating this thing...that way, if I ever get an audience, there will be stuff to read (and to my one current reader, and the inspiration for this whole sad attempt at humor and self-inflicted therapy, I hope you're enjoying it).
Two more little ditties to share, since it's just one of those friggin days.
When in doubt, cry first, then try...
First, I made one of my "junior" colleagues cry. I felt bad about it too, until I replayed the event in my head. I was having a major personal life-type argument on the phone when this deer in headlights IM'd me asking if I had a minute. I didn't respond. 45 seconds later, another blinky window, which I opened to see IM #2 "R U there?" (because apparently the extra four letters that would have made actual WORDS were too much for her little fingers to type)...again, I ignore. 2 minutes later, still in a heated phone battle, she calls me (I don't answer). Finally, 5-6 minutes later, I finish (lose) my battle, and go to see what she needs. Start out by politely apologizing for the delay and explaining that I was on an important call, to which she responds (in a whiny little voice) "but I need your help." I told her I was there now and that I would try to solve her problems in a courteous manner and asked what was the matter. She told me she thought the Internet was "broken" (I've got many more stories about this, but will save those for future editions). I asked her what the bloody hell she was talking about and was told that our company's website wasn't working. Having been on the site during my phone fight, I already sensed this was headed down a dangerous path and asked her to show me...she hadn't even finished typing when I diagnosed the problem - she was spelling our company's name wrong. I tried to stay calm and did well, until she whined a pathetic, child like "thaaaaaaank yooooooou" at me, at which point I lost it...said I was happy to help when there are legit problems, but that I had real work to do and can't come to the rescue every time she does something dumb. I politely requested that the next time there's a "weird problem," she pull her head out of her ass and try to solve it herself before crying to me...she started crying and now I feel like a jerk. If someone laughs at this story, it will make me feel better.
#2: I don't know what annoys me more, stupid people or people who say dumb things trying to sound smart...
Just got a new client (yippee!!!!) with some pretty cool technology. We have a big meeting with them in about an hour, which is great since I can't do anything productive anyway. One of the "boss types" who's "overseeing" the program has decided he likes what they do (or at least his interpretation of what they do) and wants to be involved...no good can EVER come out of this. Before I could even protest, he had started doing his "research" and emailing the rest of us (and yes, he has heard all about my trials and tribulations with email today...now closing in on 8 hours) "recommended reading material" about the competition and the market. I saw the emails coming in, and could swear I actually heard laughter coming from my computer when I clicked to open one of the messages, right before that little virtual middle finger reared its ugly head again. I asked another member of the team to print the stuff for me, and she happily obliged. When she brought it to me, she said she wasn't sure if all the stuff was appropriate. I didn't even have to get past the first page before I realized these printouts would be more useful to wipe my bum with than to read. His emails, explaining how we mis-read the situation, were just about as absurd as the supporting documentation. It took me 45 minutes to explain why every bit of his research was wrong, and for us to agree that he'll sit quietly at the meeting and let me sound smart.
I had nothing better to do anyway.
Bye for now
Two more little ditties to share, since it's just one of those friggin days.
When in doubt, cry first, then try...
First, I made one of my "junior" colleagues cry. I felt bad about it too, until I replayed the event in my head. I was having a major personal life-type argument on the phone when this deer in headlights IM'd me asking if I had a minute. I didn't respond. 45 seconds later, another blinky window, which I opened to see IM #2 "R U there?" (because apparently the extra four letters that would have made actual WORDS were too much for her little fingers to type)...again, I ignore. 2 minutes later, still in a heated phone battle, she calls me (I don't answer). Finally, 5-6 minutes later, I finish (lose) my battle, and go to see what she needs. Start out by politely apologizing for the delay and explaining that I was on an important call, to which she responds (in a whiny little voice) "but I need your help." I told her I was there now and that I would try to solve her problems in a courteous manner and asked what was the matter. She told me she thought the Internet was "broken" (I've got many more stories about this, but will save those for future editions). I asked her what the bloody hell she was talking about and was told that our company's website wasn't working. Having been on the site during my phone fight, I already sensed this was headed down a dangerous path and asked her to show me...she hadn't even finished typing when I diagnosed the problem - she was spelling our company's name wrong. I tried to stay calm and did well, until she whined a pathetic, child like "thaaaaaaank yooooooou" at me, at which point I lost it...said I was happy to help when there are legit problems, but that I had real work to do and can't come to the rescue every time she does something dumb. I politely requested that the next time there's a "weird problem," she pull her head out of her ass and try to solve it herself before crying to me...she started crying and now I feel like a jerk. If someone laughs at this story, it will make me feel better.
#2: I don't know what annoys me more, stupid people or people who say dumb things trying to sound smart...
Just got a new client (yippee!!!!) with some pretty cool technology. We have a big meeting with them in about an hour, which is great since I can't do anything productive anyway. One of the "boss types" who's "overseeing" the program has decided he likes what they do (or at least his interpretation of what they do) and wants to be involved...no good can EVER come out of this. Before I could even protest, he had started doing his "research" and emailing the rest of us (and yes, he has heard all about my trials and tribulations with email today...now closing in on 8 hours) "recommended reading material" about the competition and the market. I saw the emails coming in, and could swear I actually heard laughter coming from my computer when I clicked to open one of the messages, right before that little virtual middle finger reared its ugly head again. I asked another member of the team to print the stuff for me, and she happily obliged. When she brought it to me, she said she wasn't sure if all the stuff was appropriate. I didn't even have to get past the first page before I realized these printouts would be more useful to wipe my bum with than to read. His emails, explaining how we mis-read the situation, were just about as absurd as the supporting documentation. It took me 45 minutes to explain why every bit of his research was wrong, and for us to agree that he'll sit quietly at the meeting and let me sound smart.
I had nothing better to do anyway.
Bye for now
More fun with email (AKA, my own personal hell)
I got to the office 5 hours ago and have yet to do any actual work. It's got nothing to do with lack of projects or lack of motivation (I actually have a ton to do, since I'm leaving for a big overseas trip tomorrow). The problem (surprise surprise) is that my email hasn't worked since I got here. They took the server down last night for an "upgrade" and apparently forgot to turn it back on. I've been getting IMs from half the office asking why email doesn't work (because I have ALL the answers), and over the course of the last few hours, most of my esteemed colleagues have regained functionality.
Sadly, I have not. I try to open outlook and that lovely little box pops up saying that the program is retrieving data from the exchange server and asking me to wait. There's a little blue bar that moves from the left side of the box to the right, which is usually some sort of progress indicator. Unfortunately, when the little blue bar gets almost all the way to the right side of the screen, it jumps all the way back to zero, like a big F-U from the powers that be of computing. this went on for about an hour at first and then stopped. Lo and behold, I HAD EMAIL...but it was not to be. I made the mistake of trying to delete one of the 85 new messages asking if I wanted a bigger rocket in my pants. There was that evil little box again...flipping me off in its own special way...for another hour. During this round of hilarity, our IT manager peeked into my office and asked if I was functioning properly. I laughed and showed her the little box from hell. She asked me if I knew what was wrong (um...yes...it doesn't work). She sat down at my desk and stared at it for a good 20 minutes before taking a screen grab of the error and trying to email it to herself...using that same outlook that hasn't worked all day. In an effort to suppress my now destructive and homicidal urges, I walked away while she sat there, dumbfounded. After about 45 minutes, I went back to check in and was told "I think it's working now" (because, you know, a definitive answer is always great). Her parting words to me were "your PC is very old. complain to HR so they give you a new one" (because I never thought of that before). As I sit here closing in on hour #6 of watching my computer give me the virtual finger, I'm getting calls from my co-workers asking why I'm not responding to their emails (at least 3 of said emails are asking me whether or not email is working)...there's construction going on right above us too, which is good because the hammering is drowning out the sound of me banging my head on my desk over and over and over again.
Looks like I hit "post" too soon. Just got caught slamming head on desk. Have to resume banging head on desk now, as the one who caught me came to ask why she can no longer track changes in PowerPoint. Apparently at some point in the 8 years she's been using the program, she was able to do that (despite the fact that nobody else ever could, and despite the fact that she and I had this exact same conversation 2 days ago).
Sadly, I have not. I try to open outlook and that lovely little box pops up saying that the program is retrieving data from the exchange server and asking me to wait. There's a little blue bar that moves from the left side of the box to the right, which is usually some sort of progress indicator. Unfortunately, when the little blue bar gets almost all the way to the right side of the screen, it jumps all the way back to zero, like a big F-U from the powers that be of computing. this went on for about an hour at first and then stopped. Lo and behold, I HAD EMAIL...but it was not to be. I made the mistake of trying to delete one of the 85 new messages asking if I wanted a bigger rocket in my pants. There was that evil little box again...flipping me off in its own special way...for another hour. During this round of hilarity, our IT manager peeked into my office and asked if I was functioning properly. I laughed and showed her the little box from hell. She asked me if I knew what was wrong (um...yes...it doesn't work). She sat down at my desk and stared at it for a good 20 minutes before taking a screen grab of the error and trying to email it to herself...using that same outlook that hasn't worked all day. In an effort to suppress my now destructive and homicidal urges, I walked away while she sat there, dumbfounded. After about 45 minutes, I went back to check in and was told "I think it's working now" (because, you know, a definitive answer is always great). Her parting words to me were "your PC is very old. complain to HR so they give you a new one" (because I never thought of that before). As I sit here closing in on hour #6 of watching my computer give me the virtual finger, I'm getting calls from my co-workers asking why I'm not responding to their emails (at least 3 of said emails are asking me whether or not email is working)...there's construction going on right above us too, which is good because the hammering is drowning out the sound of me banging my head on my desk over and over and over again.
Looks like I hit "post" too soon. Just got caught slamming head on desk. Have to resume banging head on desk now, as the one who caught me came to ask why she can no longer track changes in PowerPoint. Apparently at some point in the 8 years she's been using the program, she was able to do that (despite the fact that nobody else ever could, and despite the fact that she and I had this exact same conversation 2 days ago).
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Welcome one and all
The beauty of the Internet is its anonymity (assuming you want it)...
I'm Dr. Nerd. I've got a great career, working at a consulting firm that deals with a lot of tech companies and I love every day of it. I get to work with some amazing companies - companies that have invented technology that's literally changed the world. I work with some incredible people, both clients and colleagues. The best part about my job is that these wonderful colleagues are very intelligent in many, many ways, but as smart as they are, many of them also happen to be technologically retarded. They know more than I'll ever hope to know about countless topics, but when it comes to geek stuff, it's a wonder how they can function at all.
I'm just a regular employee; not the IT guy; never had any real IT training. I'm a techie out of interest and necessity, but not any kind of uber-geek (at least I hope not). I'm entirely self taught, a must growing up, based on the fact that I was raised by a pair of techno-dolts. I understand tech and gadgets better than most of the people at my office, and have become somewhat of a go-to guy for all things technical and computer related.
I've been with my company for a LONG time, and over the years, have been fortunate enough to have a ton of experiences so mind-numbingly dumb I sometimes can't believe they're true even as I'm living them. I'll spare you the stories of how I've had to explain what a client does to someone who's worked on it for 5 years...the purpose here is much less noble. These are the "wow, that's some stupidity" kind of stories.
One of my colleagues came to ask me a "stupid question" the other day. She asked, it wasn't (that bad), and I had to share a few of my most incredibly absurd stories with her, just to show what "stupid" actually means. After a couple of gems, which I'll get to in the weeks to come, she said I needed to start writing these down, so here it goes...
As a final word of warning, Don't think about any of these too long, or you might drop dead.
---------------
I'm one of the first few in the office every morning...There's a "boss type" who, once or twice a week, emails me to ask if email is working. I have yet to respond to any of his emails with a "no"... (Some people who I've told about this one fail to see the irony. )
A few times, when email has actually been down, he's followed this note up with a phone call...asking why I never responded to his email asking if email is down (hmmm...)
Once, boss type emailed me at 7:15 in the morning with the "is email working" question. It wasn't. I got the note at around noon, with the time stamp from 5 hours earlier and responded with a quick "yes." After receiving this email (2 minutes later), he replied with "are you sure?"
One of the older "boss types" called me, frighteningly agitated, telling me that the program wouldn't let him send an email to an address he was putting in. The "devil box" was telling him it was invalid, but he knew it was correct. I couldn't diagnose it over the phone, but risked what little sanity I had left and paid him a visit, thinking it would give me another one for the archives, if nothing else...I went in and was told to "look at this fucking thing." Before I could, I asked if he was SURE he hadn't mistyped anything. He said he knew it was right, because he had "been there yesterday." Sure enough, I look at the to field, and see the guy's name followed by his office mailing address.
A junior person we had hired was mutlitasking - putting together an email to a client at the same time she was "facebooking." Somehow, she accidentally put a link to her facebook profile into the email (unbeknownst to any of us). The client called her to thank her for the insightful, thorough, well put together document...
The then called me, to thank me for hiring her. Curious, I signed up for facebook and realized that the kid's latest update was a set of pictures from that weekend, at the beach, with a group of her impossibly hot friends from school. I went to visit this client a few months later. Sitting in his office, he went to open a document that he wanted to show me. Glancing over at his screen, I noticed that his wallpaper was a picture of my prized pupil and her friends, in all their nubile glory.
There's more fun with email, but I'll save it for a future edition (I emailed myself some of the old classics, but our mail server's not working right now so I can't access them to post).
Next episode, the Intarweb, aka the information stupid-highway.
Bye for now
I'm Dr. Nerd. I've got a great career, working at a consulting firm that deals with a lot of tech companies and I love every day of it. I get to work with some amazing companies - companies that have invented technology that's literally changed the world. I work with some incredible people, both clients and colleagues. The best part about my job is that these wonderful colleagues are very intelligent in many, many ways, but as smart as they are, many of them also happen to be technologically retarded. They know more than I'll ever hope to know about countless topics, but when it comes to geek stuff, it's a wonder how they can function at all.
I'm just a regular employee; not the IT guy; never had any real IT training. I'm a techie out of interest and necessity, but not any kind of uber-geek (at least I hope not). I'm entirely self taught, a must growing up, based on the fact that I was raised by a pair of techno-dolts. I understand tech and gadgets better than most of the people at my office, and have become somewhat of a go-to guy for all things technical and computer related.
I've been with my company for a LONG time, and over the years, have been fortunate enough to have a ton of experiences so mind-numbingly dumb I sometimes can't believe they're true even as I'm living them. I'll spare you the stories of how I've had to explain what a client does to someone who's worked on it for 5 years...the purpose here is much less noble. These are the "wow, that's some stupidity" kind of stories.
One of my colleagues came to ask me a "stupid question" the other day. She asked, it wasn't (that bad), and I had to share a few of my most incredibly absurd stories with her, just to show what "stupid" actually means. After a couple of gems, which I'll get to in the weeks to come, she said I needed to start writing these down, so here it goes...
As a final word of warning, Don't think about any of these too long, or you might drop dead.
---------------
- Round 1: Fun with email...
I'm one of the first few in the office every morning...There's a "boss type" who, once or twice a week, emails me to ask if email is working. I have yet to respond to any of his emails with a "no"... (Some people who I've told about this one fail to see the irony. )
A few times, when email has actually been down, he's followed this note up with a phone call...asking why I never responded to his email asking if email is down (hmmm...)
Once, boss type emailed me at 7:15 in the morning with the "is email working" question. It wasn't. I got the note at around noon, with the time stamp from 5 hours earlier and responded with a quick "yes." After receiving this email (2 minutes later), he replied with "are you sure?"
- We've gotten younger as a company over the years, but the older guard has been a great source of material...
One of the older "boss types" called me, frighteningly agitated, telling me that the program wouldn't let him send an email to an address he was putting in. The "devil box" was telling him it was invalid, but he knew it was correct. I couldn't diagnose it over the phone, but risked what little sanity I had left and paid him a visit, thinking it would give me another one for the archives, if nothing else...I went in and was told to "look at this fucking thing." Before I could, I asked if he was SURE he hadn't mistyped anything. He said he knew it was right, because he had "been there yesterday." Sure enough, I look at the to field, and see the guy's name followed by his office mailing address.
- The old folks have been a source of great humor, but the kids all have their moments too...
A junior person we had hired was mutlitasking - putting together an email to a client at the same time she was "facebooking." Somehow, she accidentally put a link to her facebook profile into the email (unbeknownst to any of us). The client called her to thank her for the insightful, thorough, well put together document...
The then called me, to thank me for hiring her. Curious, I signed up for facebook and realized that the kid's latest update was a set of pictures from that weekend, at the beach, with a group of her impossibly hot friends from school. I went to visit this client a few months later. Sitting in his office, he went to open a document that he wanted to show me. Glancing over at his screen, I noticed that his wallpaper was a picture of my prized pupil and her friends, in all their nubile glory.
There's more fun with email, but I'll save it for a future edition (I emailed myself some of the old classics, but our mail server's not working right now so I can't access them to post).
Next episode, the Intarweb, aka the information stupid-highway.
Bye for now
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