That seems quite polite, actually. You didn't use the term "you dim-witted fuckers" once.
What made me unhappy today ?
- Thread starter big soft moose
- Start date
The employee handbook discourages it.
I used to work in IT for years. Then I moved to accounting.
There's no shortage of dim-witted fuckery in either field, but at least there are more jobs in accounting. I'll never go hungry balancing other people's books.
But I have been tempted to use the phrase "Have the day you deserve" more than once.
Installing an isofix car seat
*internal screaming*
*internal screaming*
Have you never heard of trigger warnings?
Yes, that's quite common in IT. I've also heard of this as a PEBCAK error (Problem Exists Between Chair And Keyboard), or an ID10T error (pronounced Eye-Dee-Ten-Tee).
I wouldn't be surprised if a frustrated IT technician created a M0R0N error by now.
I have crossed a dread Rubicon. Nothing shall be the same. Ever. Life is sepia, today is dark, tomorrow, foreboding and I must face it alone. My Princess has lost interest in my wellbeing.
It happened yesterday. She, whose smile is a dim memory, needed a wheelchair accessible van. I have a pen bankers covet. A signature, and a new van was ours.
At first it was a delight. Our first voyage was a short shakedown to a Subway sandwich store. On the way I asked if she had paired her phone to her rolling salon's Bluetooth system and found she was not keen to do so.
Here is my chance. We pulled up to the drive through window where our online order would be waiting. Too quickly I found my phone and sought to demonstrate our private concert hall so she could witness the benefit of wireless audio.
Without thinking, I went to YouTube. Without thinking, I clicked on a channel called Humor Bagel.
It's a fart channel.
There HB was, walking through a crowded park, raging in a mock phone conversation. "All I get is sass! I'm tired of it. I can't stand your sass any more. Here, this is what you get!"
Humor Bagel positioned his phone, lifted one foot, and then the Subway drive through window opened.
I hit the screen to pause the video but there's always a lag. The video appeared to continue playing so I hit the pause button again, discovering that it had paused and my second click put it back into play mode.
Modern woofer systems are impressive, and, wow, did we ever woof. I hit pause frantically, nothing happened, so I clicked again, cycling through pause right back to play, caught in a terrifying loop.
I heard a whimpering sound underneath HB's gastric seismology, a mix of mortification and "you just wait, I'm telling my sisters about this."
Again and again I tried to silence the evil thunder. Out of the corner of one eye I could see a Subway attendant in shocked disbelief. Out of the other eye I saw an expression on my beloved I will never be able to forget.
About this time, the macabre stupidity of my plight took over. I wasn't laughing because anything was funny, I was trapped in a prison of social morbidity. Civility's guardrails evaporated. My dexterity gone, I kept trying to silence the daemonic artillery, racked by insane giggles.
At last, Humor Bagel depleted his unholy derecho. All I could think of was how easy it would have been to turn the volume down on the radio and contain his deadly barrage with silence. Or how easy it would have been to find a nice Kenny G piece for demonstration.
"Here's your order. Have a very wonderful evening."
I turned to my betrothed to hand her the meal. Her mouth was hanging slack, her eyebrows laying bare the torment I'd put her through.
All I could think of to say was, "I'm a victim too, you know. I'll need nurturing."
I think I'm grounded. If I don't post for a while, there may be a reason.
It happened yesterday. She, whose smile is a dim memory, needed a wheelchair accessible van. I have a pen bankers covet. A signature, and a new van was ours.
At first it was a delight. Our first voyage was a short shakedown to a Subway sandwich store. On the way I asked if she had paired her phone to her rolling salon's Bluetooth system and found she was not keen to do so.
Here is my chance. We pulled up to the drive through window where our online order would be waiting. Too quickly I found my phone and sought to demonstrate our private concert hall so she could witness the benefit of wireless audio.
Without thinking, I went to YouTube. Without thinking, I clicked on a channel called Humor Bagel.
It's a fart channel.
There HB was, walking through a crowded park, raging in a mock phone conversation. "All I get is sass! I'm tired of it. I can't stand your sass any more. Here, this is what you get!"
Humor Bagel positioned his phone, lifted one foot, and then the Subway drive through window opened.
I hit the screen to pause the video but there's always a lag. The video appeared to continue playing so I hit the pause button again, discovering that it had paused and my second click put it back into play mode.
Modern woofer systems are impressive, and, wow, did we ever woof. I hit pause frantically, nothing happened, so I clicked again, cycling through pause right back to play, caught in a terrifying loop.
I heard a whimpering sound underneath HB's gastric seismology, a mix of mortification and "you just wait, I'm telling my sisters about this."
Again and again I tried to silence the evil thunder. Out of the corner of one eye I could see a Subway attendant in shocked disbelief. Out of the other eye I saw an expression on my beloved I will never be able to forget.
About this time, the macabre stupidity of my plight took over. I wasn't laughing because anything was funny, I was trapped in a prison of social morbidity. Civility's guardrails evaporated. My dexterity gone, I kept trying to silence the daemonic artillery, racked by insane giggles.
At last, Humor Bagel depleted his unholy derecho. All I could think of was how easy it would have been to turn the volume down on the radio and contain his deadly barrage with silence. Or how easy it would have been to find a nice Kenny G piece for demonstration.
"Here's your order. Have a very wonderful evening."
I turned to my betrothed to hand her the meal. Her mouth was hanging slack, her eyebrows laying bare the torment I'd put her through.
All I could think of to say was, "I'm a victim too, you know. I'll need nurturing."
I think I'm grounded. If I don't post for a while, there may be a reason.
I'm surprised you all have these acronyms for this that aren't words.Yes, that's quite common in IT. I've also heard of this as a PEBCAK error (Problem Exists Between Chair And Keyboard), or an ID10T error (pronounced Eye-Dee-Ten-Tee).
I wouldn't be surprised if a frustrated IT technician created a M0R0N error by now.
The one I always used was PICNIC. "Oh god not another picnic call..."
Problem
In
Chair
Not
In
Computer
Yes, I've heard of PICNIC too. But let's not speak of "stupid" users, please, because most users will have brain farts from time to time (or will be uninformed). It's the stubborn users (i.e. the ones that insist they are right, or who keep doing the wrong thing despite being told that it's wrong) who cause the biggest issues.
Other error codes include:
- Layer 8 Issue: A reference to the OSI model, implying the human layer (above the 7 standard network layers) is at fault.
- Code 18: Indicates the problem is 18 inches away from the screen.
- IBM: Idiot Behind Machine.
- "Magic smoke": The stuff that makes all electronic appliances work. When it escapes, they stop working.
But don't use these while talking to a user (or your boss), or it might become a CLE -- Career-Limiting Event.
And so to you, I say "HAND!" (Have A Nice Day)
Other error codes include:
- Layer 8 Issue: A reference to the OSI model, implying the human layer (above the 7 standard network layers) is at fault.
- Code 18: Indicates the problem is 18 inches away from the screen.
- IBM: Idiot Behind Machine.
- "Magic smoke": The stuff that makes all electronic appliances work. When it escapes, they stop working.
But don't use these while talking to a user (or your boss), or it might become a CLE -- Career-Limiting Event.
And so to you, I say "HAND!" (Have A Nice Day)
Not especially unhappy, more like bemused. Today I found the certificate for my appointment as Law Clerk for the federal district court, tucked away in a drawer. It's a typed form from 1989, with my name written in (by myself) and signed by my Judge. Old, worn, and tattered paper. I put in a frame and put it on my study wall, along with my great-great-grandfather's Civil War discharge document, and an 1868 immigration letter for another great-great-grandfather (from Sweden). I guess I belong up there with the other old fossils, and someday, perhaps, my kids and grandkids will stare at it with the awe reserved from documents from a long-lost era.
I need to go sit down.
I need to go sit down.
In the original F.E.A.R. computer game, one of the NPCs, a programmer named Norton Mapes, wears a belt buckle that says "RTFM."Yes, I've heard of PICNIC too. But let's not speak of "stupid" users, please, because most users will have brain farts from time to time (or will be uninformed). It's the stubborn users (i.e. the ones that insist they are right, or who keep doing the wrong thing despite being told that it's wrong) who cause the biggest issues.
Other error codes include:
- Layer 8 Issue: A reference to the OSI model, implying the human layer (above the 7 standard network layers) is at fault.
- Code 18: Indicates the problem is 18 inches away from the screen.
- IBM: Idiot Behind Machine.
- "Magic smoke": The stuff that makes all electronic appliances work. When it escapes, they stop working.
But don't use these while talking to a user (or your boss), or it might become a CLE -- Career-Limiting Event.
And so to you, I say "HAND!" (Have A Nice Day)
Read
The
Fucking
Manual
My dad worked in corporate-level tech support and was occasionally on-call from home. He used "flipping" but the song was the same.
Sean's character from Granite Cradle is sort of partially pilfered from Billy in Leo, not only that but the worldbuilding as well. The latter isn't an active project, but I don't want to let its world be absorbed into Sean's universe because it's convenient. On the other hand, they fit like hand in glove.
Widely used in those days to cover up poor interface design. What gets me is that GUIs are getting worse in, say, the last ten years, not better — less intuitive, less consistent, less based on fundamental human factors insight. ("Huh? What's that? ") Because all the decision makers want unique and cooler.
defaux
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Partly that, partly anti pattern designed to trap users into keeping with an ecosystem or into paying more or whatever. Either case is corporate will against usability.
You forgot the ID: 10-T problem.Yes, I've heard of PICNIC too. But let's not speak of "stupid" users, please, because most users will have brain farts from time to time (or will be uninformed). It's the stubborn users (i.e. the ones that insist they are right, or who keep doing the wrong thing despite being told that it's wrong) who cause the biggest issues.
Other error codes include:
- Layer 8 Issue: A reference to the OSI model, implying the human layer (above the 7 standard network layers) is at fault.
- Code 18: Indicates the problem is 18 inches away from the screen.
- IBM: Idiot Behind Machine.
- "Magic smoke": The stuff that makes all electronic appliances work. When it escapes, they stop working.
But don't use these while talking to a user (or your boss), or it might become a CLE -- Career-Limiting Event.
And so to you, I say "HAND!" (Have A Nice Day)
Yes. And that is why, like the Marketing Department of the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation, the people who came up with that are best defined as "a bunch of mindless jerks who will be the first against the wall when the revolution comes."
Um ... *points up* Not quite the same spelling, but still.
I couldn't find my earbuds this morning and was tempted to call out sick rather than deal with not having them. I'm currently at work and all I hear is the buzzing of the HVAC and flourescent lights.
I am tempted to make a request to my manager that I do my shift in the 'creepy' basement, the same one with a stain from flood waters and a hole in the wall where a boiler used to be in the 1800's. We work near the Oregon State Hospital where there were tunnels to escort patients and that basement happened to be an entry point at one time. I would rather be there than be earbudless around people.
I am tempted to make a request to my manager that I do my shift in the 'creepy' basement, the same one with a stain from flood waters and a hole in the wall where a boiler used to be in the 1800's. We work near the Oregon State Hospital where there were tunnels to escort patients and that basement happened to be an entry point at one time. I would rather be there than be earbudless around people.
Field trip! Junction City or Salem?
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