|Monday, June 6th, 2005|
Oh Holy Christ... I thought I took this role to get away from these people... I'm tooooo tired to handle this shit.
Okay, long dialogue short:
C: "I can't log in to my new computer using the password you sent me."
Me: "Okay, what is the error message that you're getting?"
C: "It says that the new password does not meet the minimum standards for security."
Me: "Okay, so it's allowed you in with the password I sent you, but now it's not taking the new one you're putting in...?"
C: "Yeah, I guess so."
Me: "Okay, what else does it say? Does it give a list of requirements for your new password?"
C: <client reads out remainder of message that gives requirements>
Me: "Okay, so as long as you're following all of those rules, you should be able to change your password."
C: "Okay..." <types stuff in> "...it's still not working."
Me: "What are you trying to change your password to?"
C: <reads new password out>
Me: "...you didn't mention a capital letter in there; is there one?"
C: "Oh, do I need one of those?"
Me: "Nah, that list of requirements you just read to me didn't mention anything about needing a capital letter, did it, you horse's ass...? You have velcro on your shoes, don't you..."
current mood: annoyed
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Had to go to the bank this afternoon; figured it would be best to make the attempt after the starving masses had finished gorging themselves. While I made my way through the +15 halls, it was apparently a common occurrance to end up behind someone(s) who are going slower than a snail glued to the floor. Okay, getting caught behind about a million kids out for an afternoon stroll is understandable - there's about a million of 'em! This I can handle.
However, is it really necessary for your lard-laden, velocity-challenged asses to take up the entire hallway? Seriously, there are only two of you. Judging by the coffee cups in hand, I'd have to say that this travesty was brought to you by many-a-Timbit.
And for the love of me, move your conversations a couple of steps to either direction from the bottom of the escalator. Is it really so difficult a concept that the people who were behind you on this contraption just might want to get where they're going without having to "stand" there, walking backwards, while waiting for you to share with your friends how fun your weekend was? I'll show you "fun"... hand me that Nerf bat.
On second thought, Timbits be damned; this was the work of full-sized donuts. Lots of them. Many.
current mood: aggravated
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