Cheese

So apparently, I’m lactose intolerant. While the specifics aren’t really important, suffice it to say that discovering this explains a lot about my digestive system recently. The sad part is, I LOVE me some cheese, sort of like an addict loves heroin (yes, I just equated my fondness for cheese to a crippling drug addiction, and yes, I’m sticking to it). And, like a smack junky, I’m an equal opportunity consumer; yarlsburg, a nice aged cheddar, a creamy brie or cambert, hell even the stinkiest blue you can find. So as you can assume, this latest development is somewhat of a quandary.

Soon after discovering this, I logged on to find myself faced with a fair amount of decisive CEO-type responsibility stuff. Despite the fact that I was still in mourning over the hunk stilton in the fridge that would now have to be donated to charity, I manned up to the situation. Apparently, there was some pretty fair suspicion amongst a few Alliance CEO’s and some of my Directors about one of our newer members; his odd lack of group participation, his radio silence, and very specifically, his proclivity to abruptly break that radio silence and ask for certain forum permissions, fleet setups and locations right before getting wardeced. Getting caught already being in a convo with WTs that one of the Alliance CEO’s was invited to didn’t exactly help his case.

In talking with him though, it really did seem like this could have been one big misunderstanding. As a younger toon, he was invited to join SN based off of his enthusiasm and apparent willingness to learn about the game and our way of playing it. Plus, the guy seemed genuinely shocked at the allegations and honestly upset about the consequences facing him.

Problem is, these are the exact same reactions and emotions I would have, and HAVE, conveyed to other directors, recruiters, CEOs, and diplos when the cover of one of my spies or infiltration alts had/has been possibly compromised. The anger, the shock, the remorse, the flattery, the pledging of undying love for the corp and a desire to work to make it better; these are all straight-from-the-book evasive maneuvers. So, I was either about to boot out one somewhat clever (he *did* pass an extensive API check) and enterprising budding spy, or one very confused, very emotionally involved ninja fanboy and noob who happened to be in the wrong place and say the wrong things at precisely the wrong times.

In the end though, the good of this Corp and this Alliance come before the prospect of making someone unhappy, and he was removed from corp. Still, it left a bad taste in my mouth (mmm….Roquefort blue).

 

On top of all of this, my internet connection decided to try and bite its own ear off again and went into full-on retard mode. Again (my internet died 2 weeks ago and I got a whole new modem, router, and wiring). What never ceases to amuse me (read: enrage) is that despite living in one of the largest metropolitan cities in the world, I have a *far* more faulty and unstable internet connection in NYC than I ever did growing up in wooded and somewhat rural northern New England. Go figure.

After an hour of wading through various level 1 tech support guys who kept asking things like “Is your internet working?” (“No”) “Ok, can you get online at all?” (deep breaths Aiden, deep breaths), I was finally escalated to “top level support”, which I soon discovered was exactly the same as regular support, only the guy on the other end of the phone talks with a much more affable tone, has a cooler name (“Logan”. No, seriously) and promises he’s going to “make this right for you man” and that he’s going to “help you out and hook you up with a solution” (I am calm, cool, collected, I am calm, cool, collected).

After being told my tech appointment would be “sometime next week, either Tuesday or Wednesday” however, my Cool Hand Luke demeanor sort of dropped and I went a teeny bit rage-y. I may have even used the word “unacceptable” which, for the record, is the single douchiest thing you can say to someone who isn’t actually your ill-performing employee or actually your ill-behaving child. I apologized to Logan, who seemed less phased by the word than I am, and explained that I just wanted the service that I paid for to work. Logan promised to talk to dispatch and call me first thing in the morning about a quicker appointment. Now THAT is “hooking me up”. Bro-fist Logan.

(Ed. Note: at time of publishing this, it is now close to 3pm; still waiting on that phone-call Logan.)

So, with a deja-vu feeling thats beginning to feel unmistakably similar to when I quit smoking 3 years ago, I find myself twiddling my thumbs and writing ranty blog-posts on my half-working net connection, and desperately wanting to manhandle that Stilton. Who needs a drink?

 

o7,

-Aiden

~ by Aiden Mourn on July 28, 2011.