Linux nerd and consultant. Sci-fi, comedy, and podcast author. Former Katsucon president, former roller derby bouncer. http://punkwalrus.net
There’s almost always one guy who is “the omega worker,” like the lowest person on the totem pole that everyone uses like a bar one can’t cross. There has to be a “well, at least I am not THAT guy!” Opposite of the Alpha pack leader, this person is the other end. Yes, it’s abusive in toxic environments, but it’s nothing compared to the chaos that follows when that person leaves. The scramble to “not be at the bottom.”
Been a long time. The last time I got affected was via a Shockwave/Flash banner ad for the movie “Moulin Rouge,” which dates this story. It’s not so much that I clicked on it, but it was on a forum banner ad. I didn’t get a virus as much as I got “VOULEZ-VOUS COUCHER AVEC MOI!!” screaming from my speakers from out of nowhere with no warning.
While the head of our Canadian operations was in my office.
Who, of course, spoke French.
Thankfully, she just teased me about it and I didn’t get fired.
Been using an ad blocker ever since.
Jesus was a famous lute player. Like, that’s why he traveled and what he was most famous for. A crooner, a lover, and a huge fan base. The ladies went crazy for the guy. His teachings were just ancillary.
You have Paul to thank for that. He was a bitter, failed musician. Just went on about how great Jesus was, yet somehow skipped all of his musical numbers.
Yeah, Florence in the 1500s I expected better with the spices and all. Everything was over salted and smelled slightly of sewage.
Hah! It’s so true.
Well, it really reminds me of that famous GreenText about pickles
In my rare cases, it’s been one of those issues where I didn’t know they were keeping it from someone BUT it’s something that should be obvious if you thought about it for a second, OR, they claim they told me it was a secret, but it was not obvious. And I have to say, “At no point did you tell me this was a secret.” Which, you know, makes them look WORSE because now it looks like it was not only a secret, but they were intentionally covering it up as well. And then somehow that’s my fault. It becomes a game of “he said, she said,” and I lost some friends over that over the decades. Was I right? Yeah, but that’s not the point.
The problem is people lie all the time. I do my best, but sometimes I don’t get those clues. And sometimes? I have had people lie FOR ME when there was no need to begin with. Like someone tried to “cover up” where I was some evening from my wife, when my wife knew where I was (a goth club). But then he claimed I was with him, and I wasn’t. So that started a whole mess. I had to explain, “I was still at the goth club, he thinks I was with him, because he thought you weren’t supposed to know I was at the goth club, and ‘was doing me a solid’ for no reason.” It got to the point I told everyone, “Never lie for me. Either I can stand on my own actions, or I deserve to get caught for being stupid. I am not someone who can keep track of things that actually happened, much less lies.” Lies make me panicky because, well, like I said earlier, I have accidentally exposed people.
I try not to. But I make mistakes.
I rarely get angry at anyone, which, sadly, means I didn’t gain the skills to deal with it very well. Thus, if someone DOES make me angry, it can linger for YEARS. The record so far is some 50 years with my parents’ abuse, followed by a few friends’ betrayal as a teen (separate incidents). I have about half a dozen incidents where I have been seriously fucked over by people I trusted, and hate my continued anger over it more than I hate the event itself.
I found, however, patience has its own reward. If you’re the type of person who really fucks me over, and it’s definitely not my fault, eventually your behavior will fuck yourself in other ways. I don’t “get revenge” like some cartoon, but years later, I’ll find out, “Yeah, that asshole? After her did that thing to you that took you years to get over, his super-special kid went to jail, his wife left him, his business tanked, and last anyone heard, he’s living with him mom (whom he despised) in his 50s with zero prospects for his future.” If you fucked me over, but it’s partially or wholly my fault, then, well, I deserved it. Sometimes I make mistakes, like screw someone’s lie over by revealing a secret I didn’t know was a secret. I try super super super hard not to do that, even if I hate their guts, or the lie needs to be told for some esoteric moral bullshit (like cheating on his wife I didn’t know he had). But I try to keep my nose clean. I try not to gossip when I can help it. This also helps to know “I did my best, given what I knew.”
One of my friends who is a school teacher says “no one can use my chair, it’s full of teacher farts,” to her students, to keep them out of her chair.
It’s a myriad of issues.
Yes. I grew up in one of “those” hyper-educated houses in the 70s where parents forbid junk food, TV, rock and roll, and all that. I didn’t have my first Coke until I was 19. I recall my comment was that it tasted like cinnamon. But I never gained the taste for carbonation, thus it ruins everything. It burns my mouth, gives me gastric distress, tastes like gypsum dust, and a host of other mild unpleasantness.
When I got married, my wife grew up on soda as the main beverage for everything. So I would only drink it flat. Everyone thought this was crazy.
Inserted ‘taunts’ in the code, including references to “grok”
Uh. OK.
I mean, I understand the Heinlein word, but what does that have to do with his motivation?
Eminent Domain, I think it’s called. I know around the DC area, a lot of people lost houses, businesses, and properties to make way for more highways in the last 50 years.
It’s great for podcasts or morning news, I would imagine. Like pop in the shower while you listen to NPR or the local news stuff. I remember as a kid, listening to morning radio with traffic reports, weather, and current news to talk about during your workday.
Similar for me: when my hearing started to go in my 30s, the doctor said “you already know how to lip read.” I didn’t believe him until he showed me “am I saying ‘top’ or ‘cup’?” and if he had his mouth covered, I couldn’t tell which one he was saying.
Without going into detail about how their personality types were both wonderful, but clashing, there’s the obvious point that my first wife would have to cope that she’s been dead for many years and that I moved on. That wouldn’t be pleasant. She would probably see me happy with my second wife as happy as I was with her, and think, “what the HELL?” “Well, you died.” “Okay,” she’d say, and definitely NOT be okay. I might add, “you said I needed to find someone after you’re gone,” which I think the reality of what that meant in a context in front of her would hit her like an iron fist. We were each other’s first, see. My second wife would be gushing towards her, thanking her for everything in an awkward way, because while I was truthful about my previous marriage, I was also really kind. My second wife is also a widow, so she gets it. She credits my wife for “the man I have now,” which is true. I am a better person because of my first wife, but I have also changed and “grown” a little since her death. So now, I would be a different person to her. One seasoned by the death of a spouse. That shit changes you.
I think a majority of our discussion would be, “well, what has happened in the world since 2014, then?” and that would be… bad. For all the reasons most people looking outside of this room would know. My first wife would be very upset how things progressed a few years after she died. “Trump? The asshole from The Apprentice?” And so on.
My wives did meet, but didn’t know it. My wife was kind of a local celebrity, but my second wife was a vendor IN those circles. I has also met my first wife several times, but only as a character in the background. If that makes sense. We friended because of a local widow’s group, which she still runs with a friend. We didn’t even start dating until years after both our spouses passed, and only recently remarried. Our friends, many of them mutual since way before, approve of us finding one another.
This reminds me of some Ohio Christian university advertising racial diversity in all their media, and some guy exposed them as having exactly three non-white students, all whom turned out to be shills from another country who were technically employees.
My first wife is suddenly alive and meets my second wife. Awkward.
What might be worse is if someone was there that you didn’t know that you had sex with. Like some random person who raped you while you were unconscious after a party in college, or your uncle from your childhood.
I pretend to be another call center. Or an IVR.
“Thank you for calling Punkadye Laboratories and Archives. My name is Terry. May I have your GSN number please?”
I don’t know what a GSN number is; just something that I made up. Once in a while, I get an actual person, but I insist that I have “their latest GSN or a recent invoice,” before I continue. I have “a call center voice,” and can reasonably fake gender neutral.
Sometimes I answer, “Thank you for calling Punkadye Laboratories and Archives. Please listen closely, as our menu options recently changed. If you know the number of your party’s extension, you may dial it at any time. If this is a billing question, please press 1. If this is technical support, please press 2.”
Rarely does the call get past the press one part. Often this cuts the latest wave of calls quickly.
No mention of external dimensions, so I am going to assume that it exists in the abstract since you mention teleportation. Like you just think about it and teleport there, not carry it upon your person like a portable hole in D&D.
Like others mentioned, a living space of some kind. I’d worry at first where I teleport inside, like hopefully not inside my mattress. Also, when I teleport back out, where is that? Where I teleported in? What if that gets replaced, like say I popped out while in an empty parking garage, but popped back in and a car is now parked where I left off? Might be nice if I pop back out anywhere I choose. Pop in while in New York, pop out in London.
Man, I’d save so much on rent. Or at least storage.