Failed Projects
You start off with the best of intentions, but through raging incompetence, ineptitude or the plain fact that you're working in IT, things go terribly wrong and there's hell to pay. Tell us about the epic failures that have brought big ideas to their knees. Or just blame someone else.
( , Thu 3 Dec 2009, 14:19)
You start off with the best of intentions, but through raging incompetence, ineptitude or the plain fact that you're working in IT, things go terribly wrong and there's hell to pay. Tell us about the epic failures that have brought big ideas to their knees. Or just blame someone else.
( , Thu 3 Dec 2009, 14:19)
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Cardigan saga
As a teen, I washed my favorite tee shirt and hung it on the back of a kitchen chair in front of the gas fire to dry. What I failed to do was take my mom's favorite hand-knitted white cardigan OFF the back of the chair first. When I went to check some time later, to my horror, the exposed parts of the cardigan had turned a toasty brown colour.
Panicking, and clearly lacking the power of rational thought, I decided household bleach was the very thing to restore the cardigan to its original colour. Dismayed by the lack of success of this solution, but refusing to be beaten, I went and fetched some white emulsion paint from the shed and started painting over the brown bits.
When viewing the results of my endeavours, a sodden acrid garment which weighed about a stone, I decided that admitting defeat might be the best option after all and I hid the cardigan under a pile of coats under the stairs.
Later that day, I had to admit to my mom that, yes, I had seen her cardie. She pulled it, still dripping, from under the coats and I had to explain what had happened. Luckily, she was too bemused to be angry.
( , Tue 8 Dec 2009, 23:55, 2 replies)
As a teen, I washed my favorite tee shirt and hung it on the back of a kitchen chair in front of the gas fire to dry. What I failed to do was take my mom's favorite hand-knitted white cardigan OFF the back of the chair first. When I went to check some time later, to my horror, the exposed parts of the cardigan had turned a toasty brown colour.
Panicking, and clearly lacking the power of rational thought, I decided household bleach was the very thing to restore the cardigan to its original colour. Dismayed by the lack of success of this solution, but refusing to be beaten, I went and fetched some white emulsion paint from the shed and started painting over the brown bits.
When viewing the results of my endeavours, a sodden acrid garment which weighed about a stone, I decided that admitting defeat might be the best option after all and I hid the cardigan under a pile of coats under the stairs.
Later that day, I had to admit to my mom that, yes, I had seen her cardie. She pulled it, still dripping, from under the coats and I had to explain what had happened. Luckily, she was too bemused to be angry.
( , Tue 8 Dec 2009, 23:55, 2 replies)
I did something similar
I was going to a job interview, borowed my mothers best black jacket, the reason I was borowing my mothers clothing is because I was jobless and penniless.
I hung the precious jacket on a kitchen chair while brushing hair, didnt want to get stray hairs all over lovely borrowed jacket.
What I didnt relise was under the chair was the washing up basin, which was filled with bleach and water for soaking manky dishcloths. Neither did I relise that also in the basin was the bottom 2 inches of the borowed jacket.
I panicked and coloured in the bleachy jacket with a felt-tip pen, went to the interview reeking of bleach. I didn't get the job and I had to tell my mother I distroyed her best jacket in the process. Fail Fail Fail.
( , Wed 9 Dec 2009, 14:26, closed)
I was going to a job interview, borowed my mothers best black jacket, the reason I was borowing my mothers clothing is because I was jobless and penniless.
I hung the precious jacket on a kitchen chair while brushing hair, didnt want to get stray hairs all over lovely borrowed jacket.
What I didnt relise was under the chair was the washing up basin, which was filled with bleach and water for soaking manky dishcloths. Neither did I relise that also in the basin was the bottom 2 inches of the borowed jacket.
I panicked and coloured in the bleachy jacket with a felt-tip pen, went to the interview reeking of bleach. I didn't get the job and I had to tell my mother I distroyed her best jacket in the process. Fail Fail Fail.
( , Wed 9 Dec 2009, 14:26, closed)
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