At my office, I’m frequently asked to assist with minor computer things. It’s all very basic stuff, sadly; I’m no expert and barely understand half this stuff myself. But I play and hit buttons just to see what happens and quickly learn.

A coworker runs up to me in a panic.

Coworker: “You have to help me! I don’t understand what’s happening to my computer, but when I use the keypad, nothing happens.”

After like .03 seconds, I’ve already figured it out, but I ask a few more things for fun. Then, I tell him:

Me: “Go back to your office and hit the Num Lock button.”

I show him where it is, just in case.

Coworker: “I would never hit that! That is impossible!”

On and on he goes for a few minutes.

Me: “Look, just humor me and play along.”

He does. I hear him holler down the hallway:

Coworker: “It worked!”

Not an hour later, he returned to my office, again in panic mode. His computer had once again stopped typing numbers when he used the keypad. I thought he was joking, but, alas, no. I told him again to go hit the Num Lock key. I was treated to another five-minute rant about how that was impossible and he NEVER, EVER would have done that twice in one day.

I insisted he hit it again. Lo and behold, it worked!

Thankfully, he is no longer my problem.

I am designing a website for a very “artistic” client. They are full of odd requests, but then we get to this one:

Client: “The site has to be an experience, not just a destination. I want to embrace the senses! Sight, sound, smell!”

Me: “Well, we can add music, but in my experience, I’ve found that users don’t really like that.”

Client: “With the right music, they’ll never leave! Can we give them a smell, too?”

Me: “A… smell?”

Client: “Yes! When they open my site, I want them to smell a fresh meadow.”

Me: “That’s not really possible.”

Client: “Can’t we make it so some smoke or a scent or something comes out of the computer when they open my site?”

Me: “If there’s smoke coming out of their computer, trust me, they’re not going to be focusing on your site.”

I’m on the phone assisting a customer.

Me: “Click on the Start button in the bottom lefthand corner of your screen.”

Caller: “Your left or mine?”

I am a backend designer for a website where clients can add contributions.

Client: “I’ve found a button somewhere on the backend. I don’t know that it does, so I pressed it.” 

Me: “Please don’t do that anymore.”

Client: “Okay. Also, I’ve got another problem. All of my images on the media library have disappeared.”

Me: “I think it’s related to the button.”

The reset button in question is a big button with an alert symbol in red and yellow and two pop-ups that say, “If you press it, you’ll reset this,” and, “Are you sure?”

When I talked to the chief manager about forbidding the contributors to use it, he said:

Chief Manager: “Oh, come on. Nobody is stupid enough to press it without any reason.”

Now, we’ve learned the opposite is true.

One of the team leads in my department was having trouble getting something to work in Excel and pinged me for help. I asked if she could email me the spreadsheet so I could take a look myself. She sent me a link instead… to the spreadsheet on her desktop — as in, her C:\Users\Username\Desktop\ desktop.

I began rubbing my temples because I knew this particular person well enough to know that a simple explanation would not be heard, processed, or acted on. But I had to try anyway.

I responded, explaining that I couldn’t access files stored on her hard drive and that she needed to send it to me as an attachment.

Team Lead: “It’s on the desktop. If the link won’t work, just open it.”

Me: “Your desktop and my desktop are not the same thing. I am no more able to open items on your desktop than you are of opening things on mine.”

Somehow, she decided to start arguing with the guy that she wanted help from. If I’m so incompetent, why are you asking me for help?

Team Lead: “I’ve opened the recycle bin. You have a recycle bin. Therefore, since we both have recycle bins, you should be able to open things on my desktop.”

This is the point where I dialed back the professionalism and decided to let my tenure absorb the hit if she pitched a fit.

Me: “Excuse me.”

I got up and turned on the kitchen faucet. I work from home and I know from prior experience that it’s audible from my home office. I sat back down at my desk.

Me: “I’ve just turned my kitchen faucet on. Do you have any water in your sink?”

The silence lasted a good ten seconds, and I swear I could almost hear the hamster wheel in her head straining. And she finally said, quietly, and clearly trying to sound as neutral and unflustered as possible:

Team Lead: “Okay, that makes sense. I’ll send it over as an attachment.”