In Brevity: #Technology
It was Sunday morning. I was sitting on the sofa with my wife. She was trying to open an “eCard” and watching a spinning animation instead. I was trying to access a website and getting a spinning animation, too.
It wasn’t the internet connection. It was that technology is shitty.
How sad is this? I thought as we sat there clicking refresh umpteen times. This is the world that technology has promised.
Futuristic togetherness. Watching. Waiting. Together. Forever.
The Business Omen: Bodes of Portends
My organization asked me to select a vendor, conduct negotiations, and secure their services. To that end I put on a suit and tie. I also washed myself. (With soap this time.) This was important.
Naturally I selected a slick company that was “unparalleled” and the “world’s best” at what they did. I was connected with a sales person. We did a little dance.
I filed reports with the CEO about what I learned. He got back to me. He was going with my recommendation.
Oh, shit.
A world-class application. (Artist rendering.)
ERROR. (See right.)
Every journey begins with a single step. Each step is an interval where you can be screwed. Enjoy the journey.
“Thanks for choosing ACME Velociraptors Inc. LTD Corp.,” said the salesperson who was now my close personal friend. “I’ll give you a call on Monday to go over implementation.” He even bade me, “Have a nice weekend.”
It’s now Monday. I’m literally stunned that he didn’t call. Am I supposed to wait three days before I call him? I don’t want to look desperate. Oh, forget it. I already emailed him a couple hours ago. He hasn’t called back.
Where did I go wrong? I thought he liked me.
This is one bump in the road too many. Suddenly I don’t feel so good. This is a bad omen, man. This does not portend well. Beware the bodes of business.
Is he born of a jackal or is that me? I’m new to this shit.
Technology Pitchfork
Your humble correspondent pondering tech. And wanting to die.
There’s a crap for that. Stick a pitchfork me. I’m done. Well done. By Satan himself.
The future’s so blight I gotta dig graves. A pitchfork works well for that, right?
So, technology. Let’s talk about that. It’s here. It has landed on our chests like a motherfucking elephant in a COPD commercial. Let me posit this: How’s that technology working out for you?
In a moment I’m going to share my ideas regarding the three-pronged attack on our very existence by technology. (Get it? Pitchfork?) I used to think there was only one prong but that was before spring break. I’ve since expanded my thinking (as well as something else).
Call it my Grand Unification Theory of Technology (GUTT) if you will. It’s time for a gut check. Spoiler alert: Mine has been spilled open by a pitchfork. Dammit. They let anyone own these things.
It’s time to stick ’em with the prongy end. Make the jump and I’ll get to the point.
Demonically Repossessed
This is a true story…
It all started when I loaned a friend a hammer. A hammer is a tool typically used for driving metal objects known as nails into various materials like wood. Or so I’ve heard.
For the purpose of this story let’s assume I actually owned a hammer.
If we wanted to (and were sufficiently sick in the head) we could think of this loan as a transaction. The hammer represents the principle, my friend is the debtor and I must be, of course, the bank.
It isn’t too hard to assume my friend is a debtbeat deadbeat and never returned the bloody thing. Amazingly, even though I dunned him many, many times, and threatened to assess late fees of 1.5 percent on a monthly basis.
Finally that worthless so-and-so left me no recourse. After consulting my voluminous and most accurate scribbles documentation, I looked up his address and drove across town. I was literally seeing red. My goal? To retrieve the hammer and write the dude off as my friend.
I kicked in his door, tore the place apart, and, having found my precious hammer, I got the hell out of dodge.
The only problem? I made the totally understandable mistake of going to the wrong house. The hammer I repossessed wasn’t even mine. In my defense, it was of similar design. Oops. My bad.
Continue reading →
Workin’ It
Did I already do a Work Post this week? I’m too lazy to look. Fuck it. It’s go time.
A Tale of Two Shitties
Chapter One: You Want It When?
Tom’s Law #42
Fast shipping to customers is fraught with danger.
A customer visits your ecommerce website and places an order. That’s the dream, isn’t it? Whoo hoo! It’s time to celebrate by rolling around like a pig in shit.
It’s not just any order, either. One with an $800 item and a $20 accessory. Score!
Demotivational Dictionary: customer
An idiot stupid enough to want the meaningless shit you sell. And want it yesterday.
The customer wants fast shipping. Uh oh.
Continue reading →
Technology Commandments
Props to wsnaccad for the image
Welcome to part one of a new intermittently recurring series I’m going to be doodling with from now on. I’m calling the series the “Technology Commandments.” In short these are things you should be doing (or not doing) with technology. So sayeth the most holy Pentium chip. Or something like that.
I. Thou shall knowest and verily verify thou intended recipient when thousest dost forward emails. This dost include religiously employing your powers of observation when thine keyboard is suddenly possessed with the heavenly spirit of “auto-complete.”
Ctrl-F. That’s oh-so-easy. A little too easy. Of course when you forward an email the computer still asks you to specify a recipient. That’s probably the most important task of the humble human when forwarding emails. Who do you have in mind, eh? That space is intentionally left blank. So you tap out a character or two on your keyboard. Cue the sound of heavenly angels – that field just magically completed itself with the computer’s best guess of what you actually wanted.
Wowee!
You had better be paying attention! In that thar field thar be dragons!
The auto-complete feature in your email client just guessed the email address of someone you’ve written to in the past. That’s how someone’s email shows up in that recipient box in the first place. Presumably this is someone you probably know.
Are you watching? Are you paying attention? Or are you about to click SEND and pass along your private thoughts to the wrong person. That can have disastrous results. This isn’t like driving. For once you had better stay focused.
Thus sayeth the Pentium.
How about YOU? Do you have any stories of forwarding something inappropriate to the wrong person? Be open and honest about it and share with us in the Comments section below. Don’t worry – we promise to point and laugh.
In the next reading: Thou shall covet many passwords.
Shouts from the Abyss 
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