Wednesday, May 10, 2006

The Password Change

I'm sure that we all use computers at our jobs. Which means that most of us also have passwords to access these computers at our jobs. And most places require these passwords to be changed after a set period of time, like 90 days.

This is one of my least favorite things about security. The password change. I really really hate it. Every time I have to change my password, I go through the same process
  1. Now I have to think of a new password, and this is what goes through my head: "Fuck. That last one was a good one, too! What the hell can I use for a password?"
  2. Enter new password and verify new password
  3. Promptly forget that you have just changed the password
  4. An hour later, get up to get coffee, try to unlock the computer when back at desk, and immediately type in the old password. Press enter. Say "Shit". And type in the new password.
  5. Repeat step four for the remainder of the day
  6. Repeat steps four and five for the remainder of the next day
  7. Show up on day three, type in the old password, say "AH!" because you remembered the password change before pressing enter. Feel very proud for remembering.
  8. Repeat step seven for the remainder of the day, feeling less proud.
  9. On day four, I tend to get it right for most of the day.
  10. For the remainder of the week, any time that I rush to my desk because something is blowing up, and I need to do something NOW, I type in the old password, press enter, say "FUCK!", and reenter.

I hate the password change...I want biometrics. They can't ask me to change my finger print every ninety days, can they?

Blood Sucking Bastards pt 2 (Bad Vampires)

In a previous post, I explained why am better than all of you, because I gave blood. And I said that I would probably do it again. Well, I tried.

I just looked at the post that I made about that experience, and apparently, that day was as good as it gets! A week and a half ago, I went to the Blood Drive in my office building. The experience was brutal. They butchered me.

Going through that last post, I found a couple of key phrases that are making me laugh right now:
  1. "Machine-like Process" Nope. Not this time. This time I was shuffled around to four or five stations before being butchered. People kind of pointed to general areas where I should be waiting. And the safety measures they were conducting seemed to only be because they were required to do so, and weren't actually being adhered to.
  2. "Rather comfortable recliner" Not even close!!! Try folding wooden table with a paper pillow.
  3. "fantastic machine " Not this time. This time there was a nurse that was very cordial, but had very bad aim, and just kind of watched the blood trickle in.

But the big problem was that they fucked up needle. It felt more than a little uncomfortable. But I've been trained by my friends to avoid all means of being called a pussy, so I just said "It's fine". After three or four minutes, the head nurse comes over to check on what the lackey nurse did...

You know that look that people get when they say "WHOA!"? Where they step back, eyes get big, and you can see there brain starting to try to figure out how to fix whatever fucked up shit that they have in front of them? Yeah, that's the look she gave when she saw my arm.

Now, because I'm flat on my back (instead of in a comfy recliner), I can't see my arm, or the needle, or the giant fucking bulge that is indicating that something is very wrong. But this look kind of tells me that shit ain't right. Of course, my eyes go wide at her expression, and I ask "What?". The head nurse realizes that "WHOA!" is not the best reaction to give when you have someone on a folding table with a needle in their arm. Apologizes and explains that this is wrong and its going to have to come out.

Apparently, the nurse pushed the needle through BOTH sides of the vein. The bag was flling very slowly, and they had to take the needle out. They would not be able to use the blood that I gave, because it wasn't enough. And they couldn't tap my other arm because I had already lost too much blood for them to take a full pint. All this means that I did not give blood...

And now I get treated like I just walked into an ER with a spear sticking out of chest. Three or four people come over to me and carefully extract the needle. And check my arm, and wrap it up, throw an ice pack on, and give me instructions along the lines of:

  • Keep the ice pack on for 10 minutes.
  • Don't leave until we tell you that you can leave
  • Watch the wound to see if it keeps bleeding
  • Here's another ice pack for tonight
  • Here's FOUR MORE BANDAGES for the rest of the day
  • If you feel like something is wrong tonight, go to the ER and tell them what happened
  • Eat a fucking cookie

Now, I still have not seen my arm! And this is very different from the shiny happy people at my last time.

Turns out I have a HUGE deep DEEP purple bruise on my arm. I also have just more than minor lump where they tapped my vein as well. We all know that a bruise is just where blood vessels get broken, right? Well this one is basically that they punctured both sides of my vein, and blood was seeping from the vein to under my skin.

In the end, there was nothing wrong other than bad bruise, and sore arm. But I did look like a heroine addict that tried to spike my arm while blind folded. I've even been carrying around a note saying that I had just given blood and that's what's wrong with my arm! Just in case I'm in an accident or something, I don't want a cop or EMT putting me in the low priority pool because I look like a incapapble dope fiend.

It's now been a week and a half. My arm is still sore. The bruise has faded, but is still there, and has moved down to the middle of my forearm.

But I will try again the next time.