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Super. I hurry up, punch through the layer of ice coating the gas tank, gas up the car, weave through the overturned semi and support vehicles (and there's something deeply saddening about seeing someone's life possessions scattered on a snowcovered Interstate median) and get to work on time only to find out that, between yesterday and today, my e-mail newsletter projects -- which I've spent the better part of last year working on -- aren't working anymore.
Why? Damned if I know. None of the program files have changed, so it's a server configuration issue. I'd ask quasi-boss, but he's in his boss's office. They're...talking. I can hear intonation, but not discern words. And nobody else who can work on it is here. So it's gonna stay broken for a while.
This is more than a shade frustrating. Honestly, it's tempting to send an e-mail to 1400 people saying "IT'S NOT MY FAULT."
Cute moment of last night: Tiny and Moosie said "Pretty bird" in unison. Fantastic.
Why? Damned if I know. None of the program files have changed, so it's a server configuration issue. I'd ask quasi-boss, but he's in his boss's office. They're...talking. I can hear intonation, but not discern words. And nobody else who can work on it is here. So it's gonna stay broken for a while.
This is more than a shade frustrating. Honestly, it's tempting to send an e-mail to 1400 people saying "IT'S NOT MY FAULT."
Cute moment of last night: Tiny and Moosie said "Pretty bird" in unison. Fantastic.
