May 2006 Archives

Okay outsourcing your dimwit jobs is just retarded. I had to call Microsoft today to get a computer activated that just did not want to take the OEM. The first little Indian guy who called himself Jason asked for my installation ID then said he would have to send me to a product specialist. Product specialist is the term they use for phone jockey back in the states. Before he can transfer me to said specialist I have to come up with a product code that is supposedly imprinted on the inner ring of the original media. Surprise surprise dell OS installation discs do not have said product IDs imprinted on them, and he can't forward me on until I produce one. Getting more angry by the minute I tell Jason that my CD is purple says the word Dell and nothing else, to which he finally replies "Oh that was a preinstalled OS, I will transfer you now". When we started this converstation I told him that it was a preinstall and I had just finished doing a repair install. So not only do these Indian phone center guys have trouble speaking the language and understanding it, but they are just fucking retarded to begin with. I am led to believe that phone center operator in India is the fry cook of the United States. It is that job that you know you can get if you can't do anything else. I digress, onto America with my call and a very well spoken gentleman that didn't ask for said product number off my CD. Told him what happened and he generated me a new OEM that he then emailed me and promptly sent me back to India. "Hejo my name ess Steve kinn I get the first sex digits of jour installation ID?". Once again I can barely understand this slack jawed phone jockey. After reading my 30 digit code off to "Steve" I got my activation ID and was on my way. Hizzah!

in a somewhat depressing way.

Original site here.

"That looks like the crotch of a kid that was just thrown into a van"

--Anthony

Of the many lessons I have learned over the past year just one keeps ringing true over and over. If you never expect someone to do something you aren't ever disappointed, at least outwardly. Some stuff is coming up and part of the slow time at work. Time to decide if this summer will be a positive one or another in a long line of squandered oportunites. As I drive I can't help but reflect on some events in the past, things I should have said and didn't. I see now how what I felt, if expressed instead of being repressed, could have changed everything that happened. Maybe that too is a faulse sense of optimism that has been instilled into me from years of polished hollywood bigscreen garbage. At what point do you stop trying? The first rejection? The second? How does one come to terms with that moment when reality sets in and all hope has been exiled from the improbable and relegated to the impossible? I'm swerving and babbling, the truth is I am still not over her. The her that never was, except in my own delusion.