Me: “Hi, I’m looking for a DVD set for a TV series from the 80s.”

Employee: “The 1980s?”

I am working for an IT service provider. We are currently replacing all of the PCs of a company of several dozen employees. The old PCs had 512-GB hard-drives; the new ones have 128-GB SSDs. Not much, but aside from the OS and some software, nothing is supposed to be stored on these PCs. All files, databases, and stuff are stored on servers and accessed via shares or terminal connections. In order for us to not have to configure each user profile on the new PCs, and for them to be able to work on other PCs if necessary, their user profiles and everything in them are being synchronized with the servers and downloaded automatically on first login of that user at a PC.

I’m currently installing the new PC for a certain employee. The moment I we try to login with his account, I get an error message, basically stating that the PC could not download the profile stored on the server onto the PC, for whatever reason. I go through a number of troubleshoots, none of which are effective.

I then decide to simply create a new account for him, which works like a charm. However, when I have some waiting time later, I decide to check out his old account, if only to make sure the problem would not occur on other accounts, too.

After checking a few things, I decide to copy the profile to have a backup. My eyes widen as I see that the profile is over 250GB in size, when it should only be a few MB. Way too large for the SSD, of course, which is the reason why it was unable to download. Using a tool, I am able to display all the files in the profile directory, as well as their sizes. What do I discover? The employee has collected hundreds of pictures and videos and stored them locally on his PC, obviously not realizing that they would be synchronized with the server. Almost 250GB of p*rn, some of it the more disturbing variety.

I am told that the employee will not be returning to his office.

My laptop, which is vital to my schoolwork, has been experiencing charging issues. It will charge to a certain percentage, then stop. This percentage has been decreasing slowly over time, and as the laptop’s maximum charge begins nearing the single digits, I start to fear the worst. I schedule an appointment to have a technician come to my campus and replace the battery. In the call, I am also pushed into replacing the motherboard. I am concerned, but cannot risk losing my laptop, so I agree.

A week later, the technician arrives. He is an older man with glasses and a generally pleasant disposition. I bring him to our school’s library, and boot the machine to demonstrate the issues I am having. He seems to follow along just fine, so I power the machine down and pass it over.

I first begin to grow concerned when, as he removes the case and components, he removes his glasses and lumps the screws haphazardly together in the same pile, making no effort to remember where each one came from. I ask him about it, and he is quick to brush me off. After finally examining the pile — without glasses — he tells me that it does not matter where they go; they are all the same. I am confused, as many of them are clearly different lengths, but I say nothing, figuring he is more of an expert than I am.

More time passes as the technician speaks to me while he works. His progress is very slow, and it takes several hours before the new components are in and the moment of truth has arrived. He presses the power button, and… nothing. The screen is dark. I am panicked, but he assures me that the new board must be bad, and he puts the old board back in. Again, he pays no mind to the screws, and at the end of it several are left over, and he cannot determine where they should go. I am a little upset by this, but at this point I no longer care so long as the machine boots again.

Still nothing. At this point, it is so late that the library is closing, and we must leave to find a new place to work. We are now outdoors, in front of a local cafe. The man, frustrated by the lack of progress, calls another tech support official to help. The next two hours are a maddening string of being put on hold and unhelpful advice intermixed with failed attempts to revive my machine. At the end of it all, the technician gives up and hands my laptop back to me — still broken — telling me that I will have to send it in to be repaired. Frantically, I tell him that I can’t; my classes demand I have access to my computer, and there is no way I can go that long without it without suffering academically. He tells me that waiting for new parts will probably take longer, anyway, and would be much more likely to fail again.

This technician’s “repair” ends with a previously perfectly operational laptop becoming totally unbootable. It no longer responds to any attempts I make to restart it. I now have to send it in and hope that it shows up in one piece. I have long given up hope that any of my data will be recoverable. And I still have a single mystery screw hiding in my pocket.

Related:
Laptop Flop, Part 22
Laptop Flop, Part 21
Laptop Flop, Part 20

(I have been working at a local coffee shop for about three months. We offer three different daily coffees: A light roast, a dark roast, and a decaf. This happens almost every day.)

Me: “Hi, welcome to [Coffee Shop]! What can I get started for you today?”

Customer: “I want a large, dark, light roast, please.”

Me: *slams head against wall*

(I work in a tattoo studio. Two customers in their mid-30s walk into the studio. I’m doing paperwork in the office but can hear the following interaction.)

Customer: “How long do tattoos last?”

Coworker: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “Do they last a few days?”

Coworker: “Oh! Temporary tattoos?”

Customer: “No, real ones. How long do they last? A few days?”

Coworker: “Uh… They last your whole life. Like… until you die.”

(I’ve never seen my coworker so speechless!)