posted 11-24-2001 00:17            

...and before anyone says anything, your penIs is not a fetish.

At work a few weeks ago I had the distinct honor of meeting the "Shoe Lady". At first glance the shoe lady appears to be a normal, 22 year old woman. Its not until you try to talk to her, or watch her work habits that you really begin to see the depth of her obsession. Every time you walk past her workstation, she's got a website devoted to shoes up on the screen. The only conversations she'll take part in with her coworkers deals exclusively with shoes, their sale, their procurment, or their design.

So: How did I meet her? Her supervisor asked me to "Remove the internet" from the computers of the people in that office... but especially hers.

So... In I go, disabling IExplore.exe in local group policy. I just happened to sit at a machine near to hers when she comes in and asks me what I'm doing. When I informed her she quickly ran away, almost in tears. She came back a few minutes later and said, confidently "I dont care if you remove the internet. I hardly use it anyway".

Then she proceeds to log onto the computer, and immediately opens the browser and starts looking at shoes and drooling over colors, brands, prices, treads, etc.

Then I come to her machine. She looks at me and says "Oh.. You cant take away mine. I also use it for breaks and lunches."

I look at her and shake my head. Its at that time she realizes that not only is hers gone, but by this time every other computer in the office (except her supervisors) has also been restricted. She reluctantly moves aside, and I log into her computer.

The first thing I notice is that she has a LOT of "favorites"... the second thing I notice is that almost every single one of them deals with shoes. Shoe manufacturers. Shoe stores. Clothing store shoe departments. It was sad. It was almost like the diary of an extremely lonely person had fallen open to the most embarrasing page where they revealed their true love for bestiality.

The next time I went to that office (several days ago) I found out that she had quit. No one knew where she had gone, but rumors were spreading fast.

Of course, deep down I sincerely hope she found happiness in a shoe store.

posted 11-25-2001 19:23            

"No one should have access to the internet except for managers, and those that can provide a business case to their managers that they require the internet for work purposes"

Plus side: The number of virus reports I.T. has recieved has been cut in half.
Negative side: A small number of people have become much ruder when we go to their offices.

I can be a bastard about some things though. A special treat I reserve only for people that really really piss me off when I come there to help them is to place "hotmail" and "mail.yahoo.com" into the restricted sites and turn off "allow per-session cookies".

posted 11-25-2001 21:30         

quote:

---

Originally posted by Clme:

I can be a bastard about some things though. A special treat I reserve only for people that really really piss me off when I come there to help them is to place "hotmail" and "mail.yahoo.com" into the restricted sites and turn off "allow per-session cookies".

Then when the person comes storming into the room yelling "Howcome Hotmail wont work" I can look at them innocently and say "Gee, I dont know... but should you be checking your hotmail at work?".

---

this reminds me.

i am also a fucking prick when the mood strikes me. i have recently come to hate my job so much that i'm intentionally being a total prick to the customers.

i work graveyard shift at a hotel, which i've mentioned in a couple of previous posts, and generally you get two types of people: either 1) tired people who want to go to bed or 2) people looking for an argument.
i pretty much get paid to stay up and do about an hour's worth of paperwork, so i don't really care all that much. the shit i've done includes, but is not limited to:

-calling guests "foolish earthlings" when they ask for wake-up calls

-got in shouting matches with guests

-turning people's movies and/or tv off, or switching the pay movies they were watching

-repeatedly and deliberatly annoy people...case in point: a pilot, came in at like 11pm and went out and got drunk. one of my workmates was waiting for his ride ... which was due to pick him up at 1am so he sits in the lobby and dozes off and asshole pilot came in, drunk, and started clapping in my buddy's ear and shouting HELLO! over and over again until he woke up. I set his phone to ring every 15 minutes starting at 4 a.m. -- i really didn't feel this was enough and was talking to another pilot, a regular at the hotel (a flight instructor) and he told me that if the drunk asshole pilot was caught having had any booze in his system before flying, he'd be fired and the FAA would shove his head up his ass a couple of times. I knew he *wasn't* flying drunk, but called the FAA rep at the airport nearby and said "Captain blahblah is going out on flight XXX and i think he's drunk...again." He wasn't fired, and the flight went out (cos he was sober,) but it sure made him look like an asshole.

my favourite shouting match with someone was:

Stupid Bitch: I need to speak to Mr. Smith in 428.
Me: There is no Mr. Smith registered here in that room.
SB: But you didn't even look at the computer! I KNOW he's in room 428!
Me: Ma'am, we have 3 floors, it is physically impossible for him to be in room 428. I have no one by that name in hotel.

[Stupid Bitch goes away and asks at hotel next door, comes through the door 5 minutes later]

SB: I KNOW HE'S HERE! I JUST SPOKE TO HIM ON THE PHONE! HE'S IN ROOM 428.
Me: Ma'am, if you continue shouting, i'm going to have to ask you to leave. We have no room 428. This hotel only has three floors. There is no fourth floor.
SB: Are you sure?
Me: You can go outside and count, if you like. Or the elevator is behind you.

[Stupid Bitch goes away and uses pay phone and comes back. At this point in the story it becomes relevant that you know that I am behind a counter, there is a wall behind me where the name of the hotel (let's call it "North Inn") is shown on 14-inch gold letters roughly the size of Andre the Giant's ass. And that the hotel she's looking for is across the street, 30 yards away.]

SB: Isn't this the South Inn?
Me: [points to wall exactly two feet behind my head]

SB goes away.