![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
It still seems to be my job to know everything. My phone rings here at work, and it's a coworker who wants me to remind him the name for "those words like doctor and Ms. that we use in front of names," or one who needs someone else's extension, or the phone number for the fax machine. But when the caller starts with "Ni hao," all I can do is say "I'm sorry, I don't speak Chinese" and hope they understand that. Unofficial reference desk, sure, but I'm not a Chinese-speaking travel agency.
It still seems to be my job to know everything. My phone rings here at work, and it's a coworker who wants me to remind him the name for "those words like doctor and Ms. that we use in front of names," or one who needs someone else's extension, or the phone number for the fax machine. But when the caller starts with "Ni hao," all I can do is say "I'm sorry, I don't speak Chinese" and hope they understand that. Unofficial reference desk, sure, but I'm not a Chinese-speaking travel agency.
I finally got tired of fighting with Linuxworld's Website for online registration--it was quite willing to tell me that I had to fill out all the forms, but not to present any of them--and emailed the contact person. She sent me a phone number to call for help. Reasonable, except that if I wanted to register by phone, I could have done it at any time.
So while I was feeling vaguely annoyed, the day's mail landed on my desk. The first item was a nice laminated exhibits pass--all I want, and the only part that's free--with a note saying, basically, that since email hadn't convinced me to sign up, they'd done it for me. The second was a card from an exhibitor, which I, or anyone, can trade in for a pass to the exhibits. Procrastination pays.
I finally got tired of fighting with Linuxworld's Website for online registration--it was quite willing to tell me that I had to fill out all the forms, but not to present any of them--and emailed the contact person. She sent me a phone number to call for help. Reasonable, except that if I wanted to register by phone, I could have done it at any time.
So while I was feeling vaguely annoyed, the day's mail landed on my desk. The first item was a nice laminated exhibits pass--all I want, and the only part that's free--with a note saying, basically, that since email hadn't convinced me to sign up, they'd done it for me. The second was a card from an exhibitor, which I, or anyone, can trade in for a pass to the exhibits. Procrastination pays.
.