oh, ha ha.
What a freaky day today was. Not helped by wearing stockings which I’ve not done in ages, I’d forgotten that “spring loaded leg” thing. Also, if you stride in a skirt, you feel like a drag queen. Who knew?
OK, first hint of the bizarre was a note from a weekend staffer blathering on about the Family History PC. Error message. The only info I need in these cases is “This PC has an error message and won’t load windows”. I got a FULL report “So and so tried to use the machine, and the message came up and blah di blah this andyammer yammer that…”. Meh. Anyway, set that one up for a full reinstall fromt he server and was thankful not much else was wrong apart from woefully slow internet.
But oooooh no. Nope. Not for this little black duck could things be so smooth. Mr W, a man who does not know the meaning of “Personal Space” or.. for that matter “Breath Mint” had a problem with one of the word processors. It won’t accept a floppy disc. With my striking IT support intuition, I take a couple of paddlepop sticks with me (those are the wooden sticks in ice-creams and icelollies). There was a metal flippy bit stuck int he drive (what are those metal flippy bits called? JP? You’ll know this). I pulled it out while being stared at by Mr W. Shudder. Anyway, after that the drive didn’t seem to be working so we put him on the info desk to finish his typing.
Then… THEN! He comes up to be and says “Your computer has put extra files on my disc and renamed other files” so I wander down to have a look and he sits down at the PC so I have to lean over him and carries on an entire conversation with my breasts. I would have left them to it, but my breasts aren’t that great at computer problems so I had to keep interrupting. I’m looking at a batch of duplicated files which could have ended up on the disc in any number of ways, and all of which have edit dates of last month. I say “Well, look, I’m sorry, but I don’t really know how this has happened, but I’ll let IT know”. Then he got sulky “Well I’ve had three discs chewed here, and two at another branch. I’m not game to use this PC anymore and to be honest, it’s ruined my day”.
Anyone who guessed I would want to say something along the lines of “Well, don’t come here then” gets a gold star for knowing me too well. I didn’t. I just said “Sorry about that” and walked very fast into the workroom to kick a trolley very hard. Having my breasts talked to is not something that happens to me… ever. I’ve no previous base on how to deal with that. Not within “Not Getting Fired” guidelines, anyway.
Alicia was in a little early today so I got to catch up with her. We are both delighted that we have found our collar bones, can feel our ribs and have hipbones to speak of. We both play with our collar bones all the time, isn’t that odd? Guess it’s like a new toy and the novelty didn’t wear off yet.