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It's just the two of us here....Well, maybe 3. Me, Myself and You...My audience. - Sichy [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]

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It's just the two of us here....Well, maybe 3. Me, Myself and You...My audience. [Nov. 11th, 2004|02:52 pm]
Today has just been....w...t....f???. Whew, glad that's out of my system.

Woke up at 7am. Powered up computer. Sipped a soda to get that "awake" thing happenin'. Tried to log into Webmail. No go.

Call IS. "Hmm, well you aren't locked out, Holly".

"It says I am, Steve."

"I don't see it. Reboot and call me back", says he.


I shower. Call back.

"Steve, I can't get into the rasterm or webmail. Did someone forget to give me my pink slip?"

"Nah. Is your browser 128-bit cipher?"

"Uhm, here's the stats. Win XP Pro, SP2, Firewall currently off. Using Firefox. Not IE. Tried IE. Can't get in with it, either. Reboot didn't fix it. Worked yesterday. All Windows updates are up-to-date. Any ideas?"

"Oh. You're locked out. Password failure."

"Yep. Webmail keeps asking me for it. But I finally made it into the network via rasterm. Hmmm"

Now, mind you, the whole reason for this exchange is I need to get my work email so I can print a copy of my insurance cards. I have an appointment at 10am. Vicki (The HR Lady) has emailed me a copy.

It keeps prompting for my username/pass. We try a few things. Keeps locking me out. He unlocks me. Rinse, Repeat. Not going to happen.

I tell Steve-O that I must go. My appointment is in 20 minutes.

I call Vicki. Ask her to fax the copy of the cards to my doctor's office. She says "No problem"

I go to the doctor. They've not gotten the fax. I call Vicki. "Holly, I can't get into the secure part of this site. It must be down."

"No, Vicki. It's not them. It's us. Call IS. I'll call Harris. Meantime, you said my hardcopies were in. Can you just open them and copy them and fax them over? HIPPA be damned!"

So, we get that done. w00t!

Now picture this. Well, don't. You don't want to. I'm having a physical. Full physical. Including that lovely thing women must endure, apparently even after having full hysterectomies. *Whimper* So I'm in the stirrups, right?

Doc, who's been my doc since I was 13 says "So, what are you doing over there?" I reply, "Technical Support". "Oh! Can you get me a disc??"

This is the second completely inappropriate time I've been asked for tech support or product. The last time I was being wheeled in for surgery. If I stopped them while they were having their morning shit to ask for medical advice...do you think they'd look at me a little funny? I think they might.

I've asked my supervisor to please request a clearing up of the rampant rectal-cranial inversion syndrome that is plaguing IS.

I got a clean bill of health. A 7 day supply of Wellbutrin because doc really, really hates smoking. We'll see. I think I need one more thing on my plate right now like I need a hole in the head.

I don't mind the idea of quitting. But I just quit soda. Working a lot. Perhaps next month.