Ah, Memory Monday: The day of the week when I reminisce about an old job.
When I started my last job, I expected a password-resetting party to occur before I started using my predecessor's computer and such. Instead of going through "all that jazz," as they put it, the company decided to give me my predecessor's passwords for everything. The phone, the computer, everything. Also, they did not take the time to clear out my predecessor's computer, and the desktop, screensaver, and documents were just as she had left them.
"Ok," I thought, "This is probably going to be weird." You're probably thinking that right now, actually. And we were both right.
I turned on the computer and entered her password, written out in bubbly handwriting on a hot pink post-it: Connery**** I thought to myself, "Connery might have been her last name." It wasn't. It started to make sense when the desktop loaded and a photo of Sean Connery circa the James Bond years appeared. It made even more sense when I came back from the bathroom and found that Mr. Connery constituted 100% of the screen saver pictures. My predecessor was obsessed with Sean Connery, ok, I got it.
It got worse. At lunch, I had to look at a cardboard cut out of Sean Connery (and another of Darth Vader, but that's another story all together) as I ate my PB&Js in the break room. (As a side note, why they kept that cut out, I was never certain. Why didn't the obsessed take it with her?) And when I had to check my voice messages, what was my password? Connery****. Awesome.
Weeks into my job, I wasn't used to the Connery Craziness. I found myself wanting to answer the phone, "Your mother's a whore, Trebek." Never has a job inspired me to say such things. I was troubled, and I'm glad those days are over.