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I'm in the doghouse . . .
May. 9th, 2007 09:59 amand I really don't know what I could've done.
My wife, Mitsuko, is a classical singer by background and inclination. However, over the years together, some of the computer interest has sort of rubbed off. Anyway, she likes her email, and sits down and works away at it, reading messages, writing responses, and so on.
Last night, about 10 pm, I hear an agonized cry from the other room, and dash in. She is sitting in front of her computer clicking away at the email program, saying "What can I do?" over and over again. I finally get her to slow down enough to explain.
Apparently she wrote a message intended for an individual, and accidentally sent it to the mailing list for her chorus group. The message was not terribly indiscreet, although she insists that she is embarrassed to have it go to everyone.
And somehow I am supposed to make it not go. As the computer wizard, I should reach into the Internet and yank all those bits back. Why can't I fix it!
My recommendation, that she send an apology to the list and possibly an apology to the individual, is far too reasonable. And the explanation that once the mail is sent, I really cannot yank it back somehow -- I should fix that.
The universal undo button to let us reverse the course of time and change what has been. There's a dream and a desire that we all want, but sometimes even engineers and writers have to admit that you can't fix it.
And in the wake of the furor, I forgot to watch Monk last night! Drat, drat, drat.
My wife, Mitsuko, is a classical singer by background and inclination. However, over the years together, some of the computer interest has sort of rubbed off. Anyway, she likes her email, and sits down and works away at it, reading messages, writing responses, and so on.
Last night, about 10 pm, I hear an agonized cry from the other room, and dash in. She is sitting in front of her computer clicking away at the email program, saying "What can I do?" over and over again. I finally get her to slow down enough to explain.
Apparently she wrote a message intended for an individual, and accidentally sent it to the mailing list for her chorus group. The message was not terribly indiscreet, although she insists that she is embarrassed to have it go to everyone.
And somehow I am supposed to make it not go. As the computer wizard, I should reach into the Internet and yank all those bits back. Why can't I fix it!
My recommendation, that she send an apology to the list and possibly an apology to the individual, is far too reasonable. And the explanation that once the mail is sent, I really cannot yank it back somehow -- I should fix that.
The universal undo button to let us reverse the course of time and change what has been. There's a dream and a desire that we all want, but sometimes even engineers and writers have to admit that you can't fix it.
And in the wake of the furor, I forgot to watch Monk last night! Drat, drat, drat.
