The article is good, but I’m actually more interested in the video embedded at the end. “Web-two-dot-oh” programmer? Hello? I’ve been calling it two-point-oh, have I been making a terrible social(-networking) faux pas? What do you call it?
I’m sure you’re as sick of it as I am, but Cool Hunter’s image of the day is a little different anyway:
Is it just me or is Google becoming more Microsoft-like by the day. I was very keen on Google at the outset and I still think they have brilliant services, but the way the run them is looking more and more at odds with their “don’t be evil” mantra.
When you contact them, for example, you get a nameless, faceless response from a section representative, very much like you’re talking to a machine. That’s if you get a response, of course, and it isn’t a form letter.
I really dislike this kind of “customer service”. How hard is it to sign your name to the email? If you’re not allowed, why? Who is going to get hurt if I talk to a real human being?
I wake. For a moment, I stare at the ceiling trying to remember something. Something important. Something important happened last night, but the details escape me. Something fascinating yet sinister, like touring the CIA offices. Something exotic yet somehow familiar, like putting hot sauce on meatloaf. I wonder if I have a hangover. I wonder why I am thinking about the CIA and meatloaf. I roll onto my side.
There is a strange woman in bed with me.
A lot of things happen at once. First, I realize that this is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and I am a lucky, lucky man. Second, I realize that this is not my wife, and I panic. Third, I realize that she’s awake, has been watching me sleep. Fourth, before I can really react to thoughts 1 and 2, she smiles at me and speaks with a lovely accent I can’t quite place: “So. You like new wife, yes? Yes. Up now, I make breakfast.”
She gets out of bed and stretches, perfect curves sliding under silky lingerie and momentarily making me forget about breakfast, meatloaf, and whoever it was I was married to before last night. She seems to know this, and smiles at me again, but apparently she’s serious about making breakfast. She turns and strides confidently from the room. As she does, I see for the first time the large Microsoft logo splayed across her back. My stomach lurches as I suddenly remember everything.
I didn’t even know VMWare had an office in Cork tbh! Ballincollig apparently. I wonder was that because of the EMC acquisition, or were they here already?
siliconrepublic.com: Minister for Enterprise, Trade and Employment Micheál Martin TD has confirmed 369 jobs for Cork as part of an expansion by EMC’s virtualisation software subsidiary VMWare of a major operation in the area.
Storage giant EMC already employs 1,600 at its plant in Ovens and the news is a welcome turn of events for the beleagured county of Cork, which saw up to 1,000 jobs lost in the past few weeks.
I hate to sound like a bitch with an axe to grind, but I hope this isn’t along the lines of the “800” jobs that Martin announced shortly – very shortly – after Motorola in Cork went bang. That was a little convenient to my mind.
Great story, great policy, but I wonder does it work in practice.
One day, I waited behind an especially rude customer who was sitting at the counter. He made crude comments, tried to grab the waitress, complained about how his veal parmigiana tasted, and insulted customers who told him to pipe down.
This creep kept spewing his venom until a fellow customer approached him and asked (in a loud voice), “You are just an amazing person. I’ve been looking everywhere for a person like you. I love how you act. Can you give me your name?” He looked flustered for a moment, but then seemed flattered, offered thanks for the compliment, and provided his name.
Without missing a beat, his questioner wrote it down and said, “Thanks. I appreciate it. You see, I am writing a book on assholes … and you are absolutely perfect for Chapter 13.” The entire place roared, and the asshole looked humiliated, shut his trap, and soon slithered out — and the waitress beamed with delight.
(I’m an asshole from time to time, although I’d like to think I become an asshole only when I need to, because it’s the only language they understand.)
Engadget has broken down Google’s paper on hard drive failures to save us all the time of reading it, and I’m going to break it down even further for you:
Copyright © 2020 Adam Beecher. All Rights Reserved.
