My Own Personal Technology "Fail"

Today we’re doing interviews for a position that is currently filled by an employee soon to be leaving to have babies. Two of them. I don’t know whether to be happy or seriously freaked out for her. She seems happy, though, so I guess I’ll go for that.

It’s a job that I would love to do but, judging by my own stupidity shown when trying to set up for said interview, perhaps it’s best that I didn’t apply. The interviewers are two people that I currently work for, and I’m afraid that not only would I not be chosen for this position, but I would also be fired from the job I do now. Best to keep up the illusion of my intelligence.

Interviews at my place of work consist of an oral discussion and a written test. While the candidate is cleverly trying to prove that they are the best person for the job, I was to set up the test room with the spare laptop, instructions, and data stick.

No problem, right? Maybe not for normal, observant people.

I used to pride myself on my attention to detail. Indeed, my resume currently boasts my “excellent attention to detail to ensure accuracy of information.” I’m beginning to think I need to remove that little tidbit.

See, we all have our own log-in information. I can log onto any computer within the company and be able to access all my own information and documents. So, you can imagine my panic when my settings wouldn’t let me connect to the network. I hadn’t planned for any mishaps and time was running low before the first candidate was scheduled to appear.

This was not an ideal way to start the morning and I was producing a worrying amount of sweat for my current sedentary position. No matter how many times I entered in my passwords, it still wasn’t working. Not to mention that I had a difficult time even opening the damn thing. I’m fairly certain that it was made in the 1990s.

(Really, guys? You can’t spring for new laptops? They’re not that expensive now. I think it’s a problem when we still use laptops that have little red dots to scroll on things. And maybe while you’re at it, you could think about some new desktops? I have to beat mine to a pulp every day because it makes extremely annoying noises. The tower is dangerously close to splitting open as a result of my punches. PS – not my fault.)

Scrambling, I ran (hobbled, I was in heels, after all) back to my desk to call E and ask if she had ever set up a laptop here before. Negative. My panic transferred to her. That’s why I love her – she doesn’t let me panic alone.

I frantically dialed IT while looking up all the technologically inclined contacts (2) I have in the company. Neither IT nor my contacts were available.

I was ready to start crying when JR, one of my work buddies, came over to see why I was becoming a puddle.

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M DOING AND I CAN’T SIGN IN TO THE LAPTOP! WHAT AM I GOING TO DO???”

JR calmly (he is remarkably steady amongst chaos) asked if the laptop had its own log in information.

Huh?

Instead of trying to explain to me what he meant (he knows better by now), JR took a look at the computer himself.

“Yeah, the log in information is right here. On the left side corner.”

My hand was covering it when I was trying to sign in. MY HAND.

“It’s okay. They hide it.”

I wish I could say that they at least present it in very little font.

They do not.

JR signed in for me, and everything the candidate would need was all right there on the desktop.

“Thank you so much. And please don’t tell anyone about this. It’s very embarrassing.”

“I’m putting it in my newsletter. You’re welcome, though.”

Guess I can’t really blame him.