September 12, 2001. I accidentally shut down an entire production plant. Management didn’t even get mad. They closed the plant for the day, I kicked off the boot cycle (takes hours for the system to be ready for production again) and everyone went home to be with their families. Nobody’s head was on right that day anyway.

EDIT: A few years later I was testing some BigIP configs on a tertiary unit when suddenly the entire e-commerce site went down. Apparently this unit used to be a primary before being demoted and someone (not me) forgot to disable replication, so when I wiped all the rules from my “test unit” I inadvertently wiped all the rules to the production units. Technically it wasn’t my fault but it was still an “oh fuck” moment.

Shit job from 10 years ago. Getting too drunk at the office Christmas party and talking so much shit about my horrible fucking boss to a couple of influential senior managers who are close to the CFO. Freaked out all weekend about it, severe anxiety attacks. That mixed with the hangover I was just vomiting all weekend.

And then: Run into one of those senior managers early in the office on Monday morning, apologised for being inappropriate. Get a response “oh, we all know how bad she is, can’t believe you haven’t quit yet”.

Yesterday I was waiting for the Tram.

As I stood there, I turned my head to the right and witnessed how a pigeon was hit by a car.

Kinda traumatizing, especially when the cars that followed ran over and over the carcass.

I predict this will be quite tame compared to the rest of this thread but here you go anyway:

Our scene opens on a person with a bass guitar, practicing some sick slap bass perched upon an IKEA office chair. The player is lost in the zone, all mental facilities put to work making every strike with the thumb is accurate and powerful, and every pop of the fingers sends the strings into the fretboard with a gorgeous thwack! The sound is heavenly, a deep, rich, cutting tone- full of appropriate levels of CLANK and SNAP. The short riff being performed to a concert of no-one reaches its magnificent height, a slammingly heavy riff sounding like a funky machine gun, the bassists hands become a blur, the strings vibrate with precision and power, a glorious cacophony of ma-

kkrrmp.

Oh crap, I broke my lowest string.

My grandpa had developed the habit of falling out of his bed. The first time I was afraid that he was gonna die on the spot as I’d heard it, but it eventually became such a “regular” occurrence that I didn’t think of immediate death anymore. This particular day, he’d fallen twice. They brought him to a nearby hospital to get a check-up. I was worried sick that this time something was actually wrong, or that he might’ve broken a bone or something. Turns out he was fine! No broken bones or anything. Just one teeny tiny minor issue…

When he was brought to the hospital, he was accidentally placed in the area with people who were brought there with covid. I hadn’t been able to see him in months because of the restrictions, and even when I did go the months prior it was always with far distance, masks and in short bursts. I did everything I had been told to do to “keep him safe”, “ease up the workload in the hospitals” and all those government campaigns and all that, only for him to die because of this (seeming) serious neglect from medical professionals.