"Ho ho" says Gmail "that thing you selected is not supported by this other thing you selected. That was pretty dumb dontcha think?"
"What?" vouchsafes I "I have not selected nothing for some time now, what with being unable to find that page again"
"Nevermind" says Gmail "here is a handy link for those of you who should not handle anything more dangerous than jello".
So I click on said link which takes me to a page of instructions that appear to be in English until I look closely at them and then I feel the room start to spin , a grey mist comes down and I awake with the keyboard pattern on my face and irritated beeping coming from the computer. Drool has spilled in an amusing way onto the keyboard and is snaking glacially toward the 40,000V cable that attaches to the CPU.
"Well" says Gmail "that was a fine effort for a Bonobo. Maybe you should bugger off now"
From the deep recesses of the Platonic cave flies a memory bat jinking and twisting (you can see the strings) carrying a message. "Check the settings"
"I know" I say as I flail at the bat to make it go away "I'll check the settings .There was something in the instructions about We changed stuff while you were asleep. So sue us."
Skillfully clicking on the "Settings" brings me to the Gmail settings and by carefully scrolling I see that the thing that I supposedly selected is, in fact, not selected.
"Ah hah" I say and skilfully select it and then deselect it so that the computer will know that I do not want that thing. A red coloured timer in the top right hand corner of the screen stops at 7 seconds to go.
On returning to Gmail it has grudgingly permitted my emails to be downloaded.
"Next time, arsehead, next time" it says
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
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10 comments:
...the instructions say...spare some time for the writer of the instructions for they too may end up at Nuremberg someday when the new Komissar Gerrymander has fallen with all his shonkey buildings into the history of fail.
Apology to non nz readers, we are however undergoing regime change here you know.
coniou, payback con
the new Komissar Gerrymander has fallen with all his shonkey buildings into the history of fail
Well said, Sir!
I shall bring you a cake with a file in it when the reconstruction is finished.
Good, they come for the instruction writers first you know.
Lorca present!
Neruda present!
tative, a potato way of thinking
did you not notice that Google has abandoned the motto "Don't be evil"? Pretty clear indication, if you ask me.
Isn't this the plot of Fail-Safe?
Failsafe. Yes. I remember it like it was yesterday.
The hotel room had a safe. It was cleverly concealed by a large laminated wood safe concealment box near the center of the room. To be fair, it did not have a large neon sign attached to it blinking "Safe Inside". The way it worked, you see, is you pulled out the metal bit, programmed in your combination of choice, and pushed the metal bit back into it's recess (hmph - some recess - no playground, no large angry woman on yard duty) and voila the safe was safely yours.
I carefully programmed the secret mikey code into the safe, and not without some trepidation, put my girfriend's toothbrush inside and closed the door. It yielded effortlessly to my efforts to reopen it. This was, I decided, quite cool indeed. Two weeks of tropical debauchery followed with valuables of every description safely stored in the safe. In the event of burgaluristic shenanigans, all I stood to lose was a pair of unsightly soiled underpants and a partially used Mennen Speed Stick. (In the pantheon of unfortunate product names, Speed Stick falls somewhere below AYDS diet candies, but well above Purple Drank.)
On the last day we spent the morning on the beach and returned to check out and retire to the airport. Of course, the safe wasn't safe at all, and refused to bend to my will despite my knowledge of the secret code. Well. A fine kettle of fish in a safe. We went downstairs. I told them I was checking out. They handed me a bill. I told them I didn't have to pay, because they already had all my money. They explained that the safe was operated by a third party and they would have to mail my valuables to me next week. I wondered what would become of the illegal narcotics, but my reverie was interrupted by a call from housekeeping telling the desk to let us know we had left some of our belongings in the apparently not-so-safe safe. They didn't seem interested in the pharmaceuticals, but were somewhat intrigued by the small black automatic pistol.
So yeah. Fail Safe.
Sounds like user error, mikey.
/typical support staff
~
sounds like Microsoft is branching out into security, mikey.
Even gmail has the explaining voice...
I awake with the keyboard pattern on my face
Were you at work or at home? Just wondering who is more likely to be drawing on your face with the felt-pens.
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