I made out copies of the seating chart pre-emptively and handed them out to the supervisors before the 3 pm shift came in, and it was a good job that I did, because getting the actual seating chart up and out took two hours. Two. Whole. Hours.

Part of that, of course, was spying a name on the screengrab of the logins that Just. Did. Not. Belong, sitting in Someone Else's Booth, accosting him, and marching him into the office to talk with the office ladies, meanwhile putting the Fear of Me into him both fore and aft the office conversation. (I hope. I devoutly hope.) He wasn't scheduled in. He was in the wrong booth. He hadn't been given a booth assignment. I don't even know if he was briefed on the job he was working on, to tell the gods' honest truth. (He'd better have been, because he was doing it all day.)

It was a day of ducks, but abruptly, things took a turn for the distinctly better. The Clean-Cut Geek was around and about, setting permissions related to the company shakeupanddown and the related need to use different websites for stuff -- an addition of a domain to the Trusted list, and a registry change to back that up. I snagged the opportunity and mentioned the sadly spyware-addled state of the machine I was on. He said he would take a look at it when he had the time to, which was evidently maybe a year in the future, though he doubted anything would do but a complete reinstall of everything. I begged permission to use my favorite tools to attempt to clean it up. He consented quite happily. I did a dance of glee, then set in with a will.

It's a nice change to spend a happy hour dredging spyware out of the crevices of a computer and be paid for it, for a change.

I went to break late, very smug in my removal of the greater part of 50 pieces of malware from the poor box.

( Magic of the day, consulting. )

OMFG debugger. WTF?

There are some evidently major social events don't seem real as they're not on the flist. Live8 is theoretically big.