{add one quart of Vitrol}
Updating a large-ish work flow document detailing “Soup to nuts” handling of total loss vehicles, appraisal and compliant title/salvage handling. If you didn’t know anything about this job, this doc is all you’d need to walk you through it.
About halfway through I’m updating a bulleted list, and this annoying little callout pops up "<----------[Formatted: Bullets and Numbering] " WTF is this? Track Changes is not enabled, I call The Nerd, The Nerd doesn’t have a clue. “When was the document originally created?” “Uh, 2003.” “Well your system was updated with Windows Office 2003 in May of '04. Maybe there’s a compatability bug between Office 2000 and Office 2003?” Ok, fine, whatever. I’ll just print the damn thing and re-create it in Orifice 2003 and give it a new look as well. Not much going on today anyhow.
About 3/4 of the way through the new & improved workflow (man! Some of that info was downright apocryphal!) I need to reference another Word doc. I chortle to myself that I’ll be absorbing that info into this doc. OK good, great got the info. Type it into my new doc, close the doc I just referenced and (you knew this was coming) * POOF * Word takes its leave of my desktop without so much as a “dijoo wanna save dis?” and … Hey, where’d my doc go? Saka frassin gass blattin marker frackit…
Open MS Word, there’s the “recovered” box telling me “Hey pal, I found this in the trash, did you want to keep this?” Whew, sure did thank’s mate. Good old MS, they think of everything right down to the parachute on their crash-prone aircraft. Click on my doc to open it up from the recovery window and … “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Inigo.”
Fresh document sheet.
Word did this to me way back in the WIN 3.1 days. Ate an essay on Surrealist Art. I told my prof that I had typed it all out and then it was gone–such is the substance and efficacy of the written word to convey experience. Maybe just imagine me turning in the paper? Or maybe let me do 7 pages of psychic automatism for him right then and there? He didn’t go for that. 25 years later I ask you, the reader, to understand that my lack of emotionally descriptive language in this paltry epistle is intentional as I would not want to taint my feelings about this event by cheapening them to fit into the wrapper of mere words.