I provided a client a username and password that were both “admin”, intending to have her change both to her preference after the first login. However, she still called me up claiming she was having trouble. After a bit of troubleshooting, she admitted her mistake.
Client: “Sorry, I had the username and password confused.”
I’m part of a team that developed an iPad app for our client. When it came to testing, we had a meeting with the client where he tested the app while we watched. The navigation of the app involved sliding across the screen to move between content. After some rigorous testing, the client gave his approval, and everyone left the meeting happy.
Minutes later, we got a panicked call from the client.
Client: “I got back to my office, and the main display looks all blurry and wrong now.”
Since I was still in the building, I went to see what the issue was.
Client: “Look, this is unacceptable. I was all ready to go live, and mistakes like this are wasting what little time we have.”
Luckily, I understood the problem immediately. I quickly wiped away the smudges caused by the client swiping his fingers on the screen.
Client: “Oh… my mistake.”
Waaaaaaay back in the stone age, with the Internet just becoming a thing, I worked in a library. A patron in his twenties said to me:
Patron: “You must be thrilled. With the Internet, you will never have to answer reference questions again. All books will be on the computer, and you won’t have to buy books for the library.”
He went on to list a bunch of reasons why we should essentially be delighted over the potential for losing our jobs.
My coworker piped up.
Coworker: “I assume you will be thrilled to pay our monthly unemployment checks or our welfare checks if we can’t find jobs?”
Mr. Thrilled looked at us in confusion.
Patron: “You’d lose your job because you wouldn’t have to do any of these chores?”
Me: “Dude, that is our job.”
He looked surprised, and then pensive, and then finally said:
Patron: “Gee, I hadn’t thought of that!”
Clearly, dude. Clearly.
I retired after thirty-seven years. We still answer reference questions because humans are still unable to sort through the enormous amounts of information — real and not so much — on the ‘net. People cannot figure out when they are reading parody accounts. People can read but cannot interpret what they have read.
And, most of all, a lot of people, many of them born after the birth of Google, cannot figure out how to use the computer, fill out a form, or create a password.
I would like to believe libraries are safe for another thousand years.
Client: “Hi! I’d like to commission you for some artwork.”
Me: “Can you give me a brief?”
Client: “I’d like it to include a hundred people, all different ages and races, genders, and sizes, all eating my product and looking like it’s delicious.”
Me: “Well, that’s quite ambitious but certainly doable. Did you have any styles in mind that—”
Client: “Oh, just do it for me in all the styles, and I’ll pick the one I like.”
Me: “Uh… what do you mean by ‘all the styles’?”
Client: “When you type my request into your AI thingy, just get it to pump out all the styles.”
Me: “I’m an artist, and I create the art myself. I use some digital artistic tools, yes, but I don’t touch AI, and I don’t think any self-respecting artist would.”
Client: “But… why would you do it all by hand when a computer can do it for you?”
Me: “Because AI is not the tool you’d use to create a polished final product. At this point, I feel that I need to inform you that if you are looking for a cheap and quick job that uses AI, I am not the person for you. I charge [base rate] for a rough draft and then [final rate] for the final product.”
Client: “Wait… You’re expecting to be paid?!“
Me: “Take care, and have a nice day…”
I am working the late shift (1:00 pm to 9:00 pm) at the local public library. An older lady approaches the reference desk.
Older Lady: “I need to fax this piece of paper.”
Me: “Okay. Just so you know, our fax machine can only take a credit or debit card, Apple Pay, or Google Pay. No cash.”
Older Lady: “Ugh.” *Digs through her purse* “Okay, I have a card.”
We walk over to the fax machine about 100 feet away. I help her scan her document and input all the information, and then we get to the part where she has to pay. (Our fax machine requires that you pay before it will let you enter the fax number.)
I put her card into the chip reader. It fails. I try swiping it. It says to use the chip reader. I try again. It fails.
Older Lady: “You have to type in the amount.”
Me: “No, that’s not how our machine works. It knows to charge you $1.00 because you’re faxing one page.”
Older Lady: “No! Everywhere else I go, they type in the amount. I don’t understand why you won’t help me!”
Me: “Ma’am, that’s just not how our machine works.”
I call over a coworker who knows more about the fax machine than me. The coworker messes around with the machine.
Coworker: “Ma’am, [My Name] is correct. We don’t have any way of typing in an amount.”
Older Lady: *Angry gibberish*
I walk back to the reference desk. A few minutes later, the lady comes back over to me.
Older Lady: “I just don’t understand why you won’t help me!”
Me: “Ma’am, our machine doesn’t work the way you want it to. I’m sorry about that.”
Older Lady: “No! Don’t say you’re sorry! If you were sorry, you would help me!”
Me: “Okay, ma’am. There’s nothing else I can do for you. You have a good night.”
Older Lady: “No! I won’t have a good night because you won’t help me! I want a complaint card! I want your name and your coworker’s name!”
Me: “Okay.”
I hand her my boss’s business card and give my name and my coworker’s name. The old lady leaves.
Thankfully, my boss is in the building hosting a program. She comes back to her office as I’m in the back staff area trying to calm down. I tell her that she’s probably going to get a complaint about my coworker and me.
Boss: “Well, it sounds like you did everything you could. I’ll deal with it.”
A few minutes later, the old lady returns, this time with a cane.
Older Lady: “I went all the way to my car and got cash to send my fax.”
Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but our fax machine doesn’t take cash.”
Older Lady: “Oh, so now you’re discriminating against me because I’m paying with cash and I’m disabled!”
Me: “No, ma’am, our machine just isn’t able to accept cash. It’s just the way it’s set up. I’m not discriminating against you.”
Older Lady: “Ugh!”
Me: “Let me get my boss for you.”
Older Lady: “You do that!”
She angrily sits down in a chair at a table not too far away. I call my boss on the phone and ask her to come to the reference desk. I explain the situation to her quietly.
Boss: “Is this the same woman?”
I nodded slowly. My boss went to calm her down while I went in the back to calm myself down again. This woman made me so mad by accusing me of not wanting to help her. I did want to help her; she just almost actively made it so I couldn’t.
My boss found a free online faxing service — who knew those were a thing?! — and the lady walked out slightly less grumpy.
What was she faxing? A discrimination claim to the EEOC.
I was shaking for the rest of my shift. I should have said, “Ma’am, if you can type $1.00 into the fax machine, I will give you a dollar.”
Related:
Taxing Faxing, Part 40
Taxing Faxing, Part 39
Taxing Faxing, Part 38
Taxing Faxing, Part 37
Taxing Faxing, Part 36
