Justin: In the Feast of Being Able to. Amen.

I Cast Magic Missle. At the darkness.

Two weeks ago the programmers activated a new tool we now offer to clients: a website option by which they may require the upload of photos of damaged tires replaced by us on a service call. Our centers already email such photos to several clients. This new tool, while slightly more complicated for us, gives us a major value-add by associating the customer photos with the DR’s that we already store for them.

So Mickie asks me to put together a turial for our people who will have to do the mandatory uploading. I do so. “You don’t understand, Justin. Use, more pictures. Trust me.” So I do.

Basically, it’s like: Go to website, enter store number, choose the correct DR, hit Browse and upload pics. It’s simple. So much so that for two weeks I have been playing tech support.

“JUSTIN?” he says with apparent aggrivation. “This… This BULL here about these pictures.. HELP ME. I can’t find the !@#$ things.”
“So… you are browsing your computer and can’t find them?” asks I.
“I don’t know. I guess,” he says with disgust.
“Ok, did you take the photos off the camera?”
“Well, my office manager did, but she’s gone today,” he replies.
“Ok, and where did she do that?”
“At her desk.”
“And you are… at your desk?”
“Yes.”
“Then, can you go do this at her desk where the pictures would be?”
Silence.
“You mean i caint see them from here?”
“Nosir, not unless you have some sort of shared drive, which I’m certain you don’t.”
“!@#$ ”

Thank you, drive through.

“Justin? This is Betty in Boise.”
“Hi Betty. What’s up?”
“They said you would help me.”
“They did? Ok then, I’ll help you!” The ubiquitous “they” are ever anonymous.
“I’m on this picture thing and…” she proceeds to walk me through the tutorial that I wrote, starting with step 1/10 and finally arriving at point 9/10. I peruse drum set reviews on musiciansfriend.com while she reads me my work. Then finally, she got to her point:
“I pushed this browse button and I can’t find my picture.”
“Did you take it off the camera?”
“Yes.”
“Where did you put it?”
“In a file.”
“You mean a folder? What folder?”
“A file named DR 029804.”
“And what file are you in right now?”
“I dunno.”
“So… can you go to that file?”
“Yeah, it’s under My Pictures.”
“Ok, are you under My Pictures?”
“No.”
“Can you go there?”
5 seconds later: “Ok, I’m here.”
“What do you see?”
“I see folder DR 029804.”
Pause.

Pause more.

Wait for it…

Wait for it…
“Click on it, please.”
“Ok,” she replies, and I hear the mouseclick.

It would appear I still didn’t use enough pictures.

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