Thursday, August 23, 2012

The Proposal and the Penetration Testing That Follows

I don't talk about it very often, and sometimes when I do, I'm all complain-y, but to be honest, I love my job. I think I might have used too many commas in that sentence.


Anyway, there are time that my job frustrates me...or not the job necessarily, but the endless amount of the same question being asked by the SAME people. Sigh. Yes, that part is annoying, but that's actually such a small part of my job. The people I work with and for are pretty fantastic. But before this becomes a love fest, I should mention the reason that the people I work with are so fantastic is because we've on numerous occasions discussed the zombie apocalypse. This led us to collectively turn on the one person who knew nothing about the ZA and told him that he was fucked when this happened, letting him know it would probably be one of us that put a bullet between his eyes. Again, collectively.

We've also discussed Bronies. For those of you that don't know what a Brony is, it is defined as "A name typically given to the male viewers/fans (whether they are straight, gay, bisexual, etc.) of the My Little Pony show or franchise. They typically do not give in to the hype that males aren't allowed to enjoy things that may be intended for females."

If you're still confused as to what it is or what one might looks like, you're welcome. Or I'm sorry.

This. This is what we spend a lot of the company's hours discussing.

I sent the above picture to my coworker that got all the Brony talk started in the first place and this was his response: "I virtually never give advice.  But.  Burn your computer.  Then take out the hard drive, and eat it."

And just recently jorts have been a subject of discussion. Exactly a week ago, one of my coworkers sent out an email inviting us to happy hour. She included the location, and the same guy who told me to eat my hard drive, wanted to know if the location was "Jean Short Friendly". As the jokes rolled in about Coworker C wearing jorts, he came back with this gem: "The fact that you slur them speaks more about you than about them.The jean short is truly the swiss army knife of leg-wear and the garment of choice for the man that knows he may need to wrestle a catfish and keg-r-ator on the same day." I wanted to hug him. But he scares me a little bit, so I refrained. Earlier this morning, the coworker that invited us to the happy hour sent out an office wide email with the following picture:

Seriously. Best coworkers ever.

And lastly, just a few minutes ago, Coworker K stands up from his desk and yells into coworker C's office asking him if he has a proposal for Security Penetration Testing, or some shit like that. Honestly, I wasn't listening until I heard "penetration testing". All I could think was "Oh this day and age, you really don't need a proposal anymore. I mean, unless you're just super proper." But I didn't say anything and I kept the giggling to a minimum. I've never been more proud of myself.

Moral of the story: Although I'm not exactly where I want to be, I have the best coworkers and office. Ever. In the whole history of offices. And coworkers.