Thursday, August 31, 2006

Embracing the Uni-Bomber.

Having a ball with the geeks in the class. There is quite a few of them who are introverts. You know, the types you would not be surprised to find out were the uni-bomber?

Take George (may or may not be his real name) for instance. George sits beside me.

"Morning George!" I am loud, I am hard to ignore, but George tries.

Mumbles, "Morning."

George sits board straight in his seat, his eyes never leaving the computer screen. If you speak to him and he absolutely has to respond, you get eye movement only. George never makes direct eye contact. I can see he is uncomfortable with my personality and the little demon on my shoulder says, "Let's fuck with him!"

I try to make conversation with George, I get the silent treatment with the occasional inaudible grunt and glances from the corner of his eye.

Loudly, so no one would miss it. "Jesus George! I don't know how you expect me to work with you chattering on and on, never letting a person get a word in edgewise."

The instructor wants us to do a presentation on what we just learned. Someone will read the slides, he says. "Who wants to volunteer?"

George is getting nervous, hoping someone will volunteer. I figure I could put him out of his misery, but what fun would that be? I can see George , inwardly squirming. He sees the look on my face, he can sense me standing up, he knows something is coming and he is inwardly hoping I am about to take a heart attack or something.

"Well, we (I indicate the rest of the group) wanted to draw straws, but George wouldn't hear of it. He is a complete control freak! He insists on doing the entire presentation himself."

The poor guy can't even protest. I am sure if he could make eye contact with me he would be shooting daggers, but he did the demonstration and did not implode.

He might be miserable now, but I think he will thank me later for dragging him kicking and screaming out of his shell.

Ok, 'thank' might be a strong word, but he might not use the scope on me. I might have a fighting chance when he goes postal.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

One step closer to the flaming red 'G'.

Wrote the first of three tests for the XP Training. Got 34 out of 35. Missed a non technical question, which was bullshit.

What is the product support mission statement? Who the fuck cares.

I tried to protest it. I figured if I couldn't find the answer then it wasn't worth knowing. Somehow, they didn't think that was a valid protest.

I just hope that they are not too upset when they finally come to the realization, like everyone else, that it is all about me.

Saturday, August 26, 2006

Tempting Fate.

I always seem to need to do something industrious right after I do something crazy with my nails. (Excuse the picture quality, but I never have been able to take a decent picture of them.)

Anyway, last night I did my nails, (flags if your interested) and this morning I got up and went to a friends yard sale. I found 2 chairs. One for me and one for the boy. He is in the States, by the way, with his father. Remind me to tell you about that fiasco.

But I digress, I get the chairs home and think they might not be that hard to recover.

"But your nails, asshole, you just did your nails."

"I can do this, no big deal."

"Your going to break them or chip them or, I don't know, your such an asshole,why don't you leave them alone."

"Why don't you bite me! I am doing it."

And I did.

Before ...

and after.

I know it doesn't match. But I ran out of material, and since it was not the boy's chair I figured I am ok.

I will let the boy decide whether he wants to leave his grey or not.

Next post: Run for the Border.

Stay tuned.

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

I cannot argue with the masses.

This is too funny. I have to say that, in my humble opinion, they are spot on with the message.

Sunday, August 20, 2006

Oh ya. You should have a dog.

I have to tell you about the crayons living below me. They are in their early twenties. They have a toddler, and a newborn. The newborn has downs syndrome and has to be fed through a tube. Get the picture?

So what do you think these brain surgeons consider a smart move? Get a dog.
Not just any dog, a husky. That is just what these fucktards need.

So they get this dog about a month ago. Tie it to an old doghouse with a 4 foot rope and walk away. I have never seen this dog off that rope. All he does all day is cry. They hardly ever go near it, except to stand two feet out of its reach and stare at it while it begs desperately for them to pet it.

Tonight I could not stand the whining any longer. I look out the window and the pitiful thing has his pathetic 4 feet of rope reduced to 2 because it is wrapped tightly around its back leg. As he struggles it gets tighter. I begin a slow burn.

THAT IS FUCKING IT! Out the door and down the stairs I go. Turn the corner and the fucktards are sitting on the front porch drinking beer. Nice.

"Excuse me. Does no one hear that fucking dog crying?"

Blank stares.

"Ever wonder why? If you cared to investigate you would see that he's got his rope wrapped around his leg."

No one is fucking moving.

I am sorry, but when I say something I expect people to move!!! It is one of my vices. If you don't move when I am so obviously telling you to do something, I get very upset. You really don't like to see me upset.

"I'm sorry. Did I stutter? Fix the fuckin' dog's rope!" One of them jumps and I storm back up the stairs. Heart pounding, pressure skyrocketing.

I am not a dog person. I don't want to walk a dog, I don't want to play with a dog, I don't want to take care of a dog. This is why I don't have a dog.

I have no idea why these fucking crayons thought they wanted one but I can tell you this. I am not sitting here listening to that dog cry until it's dead. I will call the SPCA or the landlord. That dog needs a proper home.

Anyone want a husky?

Welcome to the Maritimes.

Welcome to the Maritimes

Ok, I could probably do without the accordion, but it is interesting.

Saturday, August 19, 2006

Fun with search engines.

Thought I would list some of the weirder search entries that send hapless victims my way.

Who was Alan Thicke's first wife? - Honestly? I don't have the foggiest.
Persin workng on compute - Glad to see the illiterates are represented.
johnny's mother had three children - Someone trying to cheat on an XP exam no doubt.
miserable husband no patience with kids - You looking to upgrade?
ted reinstein - maybe that is Alan Thicke's first wife?
nose fucking - You know I tried to clean that up, but it just had to be said straight out. And if you are that person who was searching for that? Back the fuck up you weirdo. Holy crap there are some sick puppies in this world.

And another thing.

"Thank you for calling the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™ my name is blah blah blah..."

"Ya, I keep getting this email from a person I don't even know."


"No, just let me tell my story and then you talk."

"All righty then."
Spill your guts.

"This person knows my name, and keeps trying to sell me penis enlargement cream and I keep emailing them back to stop but the email is not working, it keeps saying there is no such email..."

"Ok, Sir? That's called Spam."
What rock have you been living under?

"You mean you heard of this cream?"

Yes, the miracle SPAM Penis Enlargement Cream, I know it well.


"Ya I am trying to do updates and it is telling me I have to have In.ternet 5.5 or higher. How do I find that out?"

"No problem just go to help and about from the standard toolbar and it will tell you what version you have."

"It says Firefox Version 1.0.6."

Give me strength.

And how was your day?

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

I am told you can't beat them. I blame Oprah.

Just got the 'official' call from Allison in HR. I am scheduled to start XP training on Monday morning at ...brace yourself...SEVEN EH EM!!!!

Holy Crap. Have I ever done anything at 7AM besides stagger back home? This could get hairy.

There is an upside. Since I am working so early in the morning, I will not be available to drive the boy to school. Therefore,-- drum roll please --, he will have to stay with his father for the entire month of September!!!

I will miss my baby terribly. (Did that sound sarcastic? Cuz that's what I was going for.)

I love the boy, but he is 15, and he is an asshole. He began his illustrious career (as an asshole) at the tender age of 13 and has maintained it perfectly ever since. If there was a Nobel prize for asshole, he would win it hands down.

He used to love me, now I am just the person who maintains him. I am to work extra hours in order for him to live in the manner he has become accustomed to.I work and he spends. You would not believe the look I get if I happen to get off work early. Like he was scraping something offensive off his very expensive sneakers.

And heaven help you if you don't have any money when he wants some. "What did you spend all 'the' money on?" Not my money, money that I work for but 'the' money. 'The' money that is supposed to be at his disposal.

And for the love of all things holy, do not ever ask him to do a chore. The drama that goes on would put William Shatner to shame. Honestly, after 2 years of this, I would much rather dance naked around a stripper pole covered in razor blades, being sprayed down with rubbing alcohol than ask him to do anything. It's just not worth it, even if he eventually does what you asked.

So a month of solitude? I am looking forward to it.

I am told that eventually in his 20's he will turn back into a human, but 20 seems so far away when your trying to wade though mountains of empty pop cans to get to the dishes that you have to do before you can lay your head down for some peace.

Oh right, there is no peace, he has to practice his guitar. Three more hours of 'Master of Puppets' before you can have peace. And thanks to Oprah and other tree huggers like her, you can no longer beat your children. More's the pity.

If I am lucky, perhaps I will go deaf? Of course, then I would have to deal with the poking. I just can't win.

Monday, August 14, 2006

I am confused.

I was reading over at Rad's place about The Echo generation. I agree with her opinions but before I go ahead and make fun of them on my own blog I thought I should make damn sure I wasn't one of them.

So where does the average internet geek turn? Wikipedia of course.

This is where it gets confusing. Apparently, I can be considered a part of quite a few generations, depending on who you ask.

The Beat Generation which is a sub-generation of the Baby Busters. Or I could be part of Generation X or even the Consciousness Revolution.

Well, at least I know I am not part of the Echo Generation, so for today at least, I do not suck.

They do.

Sunday, August 13, 2006

Tick Tock.

Been just a little pissed off this pass week. The whole 'assholes walking the earth' thing. Haven't really felt like blogging.

But now that all the activities are over, I guess you just have to get back to it. My friend says she is coming back to work on Monday. I can't really blame her, it will be hard being alone once all the family goes back to their lives.

For me it looks like I only have a week before the XP training starts. I have mixed feelings now that my freinds husband is gone. He was a really great manager, and I was hoping to work with him. I told this to another one of the good managers (there are very few) and he said he would try and pull some strings to get me on his team. I thought that was nice of him.

So, maybe things are looking up. But as the day gets closer, I get more and more nervous that something will go wrong (once again) and I will be dragged in another direction, off my chosen path.

Fingers and toes crossed.

Monday, August 7, 2006

Is there a plan?

A friends husband died Saturday in a motorcycle accident. He was only 48.

(Don't get me started on the motorcycle thing, I don't understand why anyone who can afford a car dives one. But that's another rant for another day.)

Here is my real problem today. This was a nice guy. Good husband, father and grandfather. And I am not just saying that. You know me by now, it really irritates me that everyone gushes about how great a person is after they are dead when they couldn't stand to look at him while he was alive. This was an actual good guy.

He was the kind of husband that makes you think having a husband might not be such a bad thing if you could find one just like him. I am sure there were times when his wife wanted to strangle him but he was one of the good guys.

They did everything together, they enjoyed the same things, and even worked together. You would think that much togetherness would drive them nuts but they were friends. Good friends. He worked as a tech manager on the other side of the building and we were in customer service on the other.

Practically every night he would deliver her lunch (or coffee it was fuckin' adorable) and sit and chat with us. I was looking forward to having him as a manager over in tech when I finally got there. With all the asshole, useless managers in the building, no one ever had a bad word to say about him.

And he loved that motorcycle, it was adorable to see them arrive at work on it. He would have a big goofy grin on his face as he pulled up. He took every opportunity to ride it and she was always there, riding shotgun.

They absolutely doted on their grandchildren. Saturdays were off limits for anything else but the grandkids. This is where the questions about a higher plan might come in. Something or someone somewhere had a plan. A higher power or unseen entity. Whatever it was, events conspired to take this man on this day.

His other motorcycle buddies knew not to even bother asking him to go riding on Saturdays. You couldn't get either of them to do anything on that day. They had the grandkids and that was it.

I spoke to one of his riding buddies who said they were shocked to hear a message on their machine saying he wanted to go riding. It was a beautiful day and his wife was taking the kids to the beach and for whatever reason, he decided he would not go with her. For some reason, he was on the road, far from home.

Now they are not sure if he lost control of the bike or if he might have had a heart attack. They will find that out after the autopsy today. Witnesses are giving conflicting reports, some say he just drove off the road.

So, here is the thing. What if it turns out it was a heart attack? What if, this was his day no matter what he did?

If he had stayed true to form, like every other Saturday he would have been at the beach with his wife and his grandkids when his number came up. They would have had to witness it, helpless to do anything about it.

Perhaps the 'plan' was to let him go out doing something he enjoyed. One last hurrah?

I suppose as plans go, it wasn't a bad one.

But, why is it that nice guys get taken and assholes are still walking the earth breathin' my air?


The autopsy showed no signs of heart attack. However, eye witness accounts suggest that he may have blacked out, possibly from arrhythmia and went off the road and flipped his bike, he died from a broken neck.

Saturday, August 5, 2006

Weird Office Guy. The saga continues.

I am getting this report second hand. Thankfully this incident was not witnessed by me personally, but was related to me by one of my traumatized co-workers.

WOG is sitting at his cube, idly picking his nose. Minutes go by and he is still digging away. He is at it so hard that his nose eventually begins to bleed. Heavily.

No worries. Remember the rolled up paper that he has in his ear? He promptly jams that up his nose to staunch the flow.

What could possibly top that mental picture? Try adding a sneeze.

As the paper begins to show signs of saturation, WOG promptly lets out a gigantic sneeze. All over the inside of the cube. Eye witnesses say the cube looked like an axe murderer had just vacated the premises.

WOG was sent home early. The cube had to be quarantined and the computer and equipment removed and discarded.

And how was your day?


In the middle of the night I am awakened by the sounds of muffled voices. Groggy, I listen intently.

Perhaps it is the neighbors downstairs? No, it's closer than that.

Is it the boy? No, he is at his fathers.

Did I lock the door?

Holy Shit! It is coming from inside my apartment! I snap awake and reach for the antique ice pick I have by my bed. (Don't ask, but tonight I could justify it)

My heart is beating loudly as I grip the only weapon I have and decide I could totally gut whoever I find in my fuckin' apartment.

I creep out to the living room, my heart in my throat, a mixture of fear and rage. I turn the corner, empty. Should I make some noise? Give the idiot a chance to flee before I am upon him, running him through with an 8 inch ice pick?

I am already running the conversation with the police through my head wondering how long all that shit would take before I could get back to sleep. (Hey, I have to work tomorrow.)

As I am slowly entering the kitchen, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness, my heart stops ... there it is again!

I am consumed with a rush of both relief and embarrassment.

It was my stomach growling.

Let this be a lesson, Kids. Never down a can of Pepsi before bed. You could give yourself a heart attack or impale an unsuspecting loved one.

Tuesday, August 1, 2006

Breaking up the monotony.

I was working my first Saturday in a while and I have to say, it was complete Bizarro World. As you may remember, I am back in Pro (As opposed to TR) and Pro is only open 6-6 PST M-F. So I am wondering what types of calls other than the legit ones (911) I might get. Since we are 'closed'.

For the first hour, it was nothing but redirects from 'technicians'. I put that in quotes because I am not sure where they were trained. I never get calls from any technician located on the same side of the planet as me. You get me? So, you can insert the proper accent for the following.

"The software is installed, the activation was successful but the customer is failing validation on the website. Can you give the customer a new key?"

Are you on crack? Are you even listening to what you are saying?


"What is it telling you has failed?"
It's usually an activex control that wasn't installed.


"You have taken him to the diagnostic site, right?"

I give him the URL and thank him for playing.


"This customer was locked in the activation screen."

While he is babbling I am checking the key he has added to his case notes.

"He did not have the original media, so he went out and bought the OS Home edition and when he enters the key it is saying it is invalid."

"It's not. I just checked it."

"Uh, but it is saying it is invalid, can you make a new key."


For the love of God, this technician is supposed to be trained. In ONE product. If you only have to know one product, don't you think it would behoove you to know everything there is to know about that product?

"Ok, listen carefully. The key is valid for the software he purchased. However, I believe that the software he purchased does not match the software he has installed on the computer. What you need to do is bypass that screen, go into system properties and I bet you a hundred dollars that it will say 'OS Pro edition' in there. And if you check the product id, it will most likely be a pirated version."

I'm sorry, are you new?

"Yes, you can inform the customer that he will have to take the Pro off and install his legit Home edition."

"Thank you for your help."

"I live to serve."

And another thing...

They move me to TR after a bit. Thank God, but it is extremely slow. So boredom sets in, until 'they' start calling. There are only 3 of us in TR, so I am not sure what actual enjoyment they are getting out of this.

He has called 4 times already, but so far he has skipped me.

I see on the phone display he is calling from Europe. They are closed so it gets routed to us. I answer the phone, you can hear the music blaring, and at least 4 other guys laughing. He has a thick Russian accent, I ask for his name. He is babbling in Russian. Then he laughs, "Cook suka, mudda fuka." This is puts his friends into fits of laughter.

"Perhaps you should get a job, so you might have something more constructive to do on a Saturday night." I really don't think he understand English, I think his friends are just impressed he is saying this shit to an actual person. His mother must be so proud.

I transfer him to DE.LL and various other places, he calls about 15 times and I wanted to 'share' him with any other customer service companies that might be open today. That's just the kinda gal I am.

I wanted to transfer to Ap.ple, but they are closed on the weekend. Actually closed.