From the shutter-up department:
My camera came back to me today. I was so excited I took some pics of my office and (very poorly) stitched them together. Note that this is a +90° panoramic, so things are highly warped. You’ll have to put your imagination to use to envision my office as the square hole in the wall that it really is:
So, now that I’ve got you looking at my boring office, why don’t I bore you even further by pointing out some of the mundane stuff that we see here. BTW this is what my office looks like about one week before I get fed up with how messy it is and clean it. I plan to have my camera with me when that day comes. I’ll take proper photos using the tripod (instead of today’s handheld) and proper white-balancing (instead of today’s random setting) and proper exposure and focus-lock (instead of today’s mis-matched focusing). The result will be a more proper panorama and then when I put it side by side with this one it’ll make my cleaning efforts look even more stunning.
So, on with the mundane details!
* Those three “windows” on the wall above the tiger lead to the kitchen. I have no source of natural light in my hole in the wall.
* On the right side, just underneath the whiteboard markers, you can see a cube in the wall, and another in the very bottom-right corner. There’s three little holes with distorted glass cubes inside them that lead to the hallway.
* On the desk is my laptop, with my G n u r p l e dot N e t homepage. Look closely and you’ll see there’s something wrong with the keyboard, like it had a run-in with an axe murderer and then got glued together by a drunk model airplane builder. That’s what happens when you do a bad panorama, boys and girls.
* On the door handle there’s an IGA bag that’s full of IGA bags. Some of the IGA bags inside the IGA bag even have IGA bags inside them. As you can see, recursion’s my bag (“This sorta thing is my bag, baby!” “Oh Austin!”)
* Under the IGA bag is a towel. It’s supposed to be blue but it’s not. This is what happens when you don’t set your white-balance properly, boys and girls. I used the towel for showers back when I biked to work. Even though I stopped biking to work long ago, it’s still there — hey, now, stop that “eww”ing, I took it home and swapped it for a clean one every Tuesday and then took the swapped one home on Fridays and cleaned them both on the weekend, back in the bike-to-work days.
Never let it be said that I’m no frood who doesn’t know where his towel is at.
* Tucked in the corner, under the lamp on the left, is a bottle of shampoo that, like the towel, is still around.
* Just a tad closer to the camera than the shampoo bottle is my binary clock. Why? Because it has blue lights, and ’cause I’m the only one in the office geeky enough to figure out the time from it. Can you tell what time I took this picture?
* The big green ball under the desk is my “office chair”.
* The little green chameleon on top of the monitor
eats part of my lunch everyday is confused about how to be a proper chameleon. I use that computer for one thing: scheduling — I use my laptop for the rest, but it doesn’t have an exchange-friendly calendar thing on it. In fact, the scheduling computer is running on my old laptop, which is buried under some papers just to the left of the monitor.
* On the little speaker to the right of the monitor sits a puffin. I wanted to put a penguin in the office but I felt kinda dirty about it; since we’re forced to use MS Exchange, I didn’t think it’d be quite right.
* Just in front of the speaker is a small plastic box. Inside the box is some blue goo. That’s “thinking putty”. (silly putty with cool blue colouring added and with a funny marketing name)
* Look at the lamp on the left. Now look at the little switch just to the left of the lamp and down a tad. That switch controls lights on the other side of that wall. So how do you control the lights in my office? Well, the lamp on the hutch there has its own switch. The pot light which is shining onto the door is controlled by a switch on the other side of the wall from the lamp on the hutch. And the fluorescents, which I keep turned off, are controlled by a switch on the other side of the wall from the whiteboard.
* The thing in the calendar picture is a white cat, with black ears and a black nose, sitting on some yarn. Admit it, you’d never have known without my telling you d:)
* Tucked behind those blue files in a stand on the black filing cabinet under the tiger picture is a silver toolcase. I’m the office handyman; a couple of weeks ago I installed the curtains, projector and screen in the boardroom. I bring my drill to the office at least twice a month. I love working for a small company.
* To the right of the lamp on the hutch, in the middle of the wall, there’s a white box. These white boxes appear on a smattering of walls throughout the office. Each white box has a little pushbutton switch on it.
When somebody pushes one of the little buttons, another LCD panel about to come off an assembly line in Taiwan gets a defect We have no earthly idea what those buttons do. I tried looking up the name brand printed on the box — nothing.
And that’s the end of my office tour. If you haven’t gone mad yet, read on and I’ll tell you all about the shenanigans to end my camera’s recent journeys.
So, to end the camera cleaning saga: I opened the box, and what do I find? The camera and lens are wrapped separately from each other, in bubble wrapping. What does that mean? That the camera body is separate from the lens. Which means that it has a big gaping hole for dust to get inside. They should’ve either shipped it back to me with the lens attached, like I shipped it to them, or asked what I wanted to do, like pay them for a body cap or something. Oh, and speaking of caps, I shipped it to them with the lens cap on, and it came back to me with the lens cap missing.
So I phoned them and asked WTF. They offered to pay to have it shipped back to them, re-cleaned, and shipped back to me again, but I decided enough’s enough. There’s only a couple of specs of dust in the viewfinder optics, and none on the CCD, and if there’s any on the lens I can clean it myself. Luckily I have a spare lens cap on hand for now – the only thing I’m really missing is the cool Olympus one I started with.
And just for fun, I’ll end this posting with the email I sent to the camera servicing place:
Hi, I got my camera back today. Inside the box I found that the camera was separated from the lens. I phoned to ask why you did this, and the answer I got was that it's for safe shipping. That's all well and good, but what does that mean? Without the lens attached to the camera body, there's a big gaping hole in the body where dust can get into the optics. I sent the camera to you to get it cleaned, not to get it dirty again! I'll admit it's better than it was when I sent it, but because the body was unprotected, there are some specks of dust in the viewfinder optics again. Thankfully there's none on the sensor, but I suspect that's more because the E-300 has the SSWF dust-buster feature than because of your carelessness in returning my camera to me. If you were unwilling to ship it back to me with the lens attached, you should have called me and asked what I would like to do. I would gladly have bought abody cap and shipped it to you to prevent this. Oh, and speaking of caps, when I shipped the camera to you, with the lens attached, the lens had a lens cap on it. When it came back to me, the lens cap is missing. When I phoned I asked about this as well, and was told that it's not on the inventory list of items received, and that the people who make the list are meticulous. Be that as it may, when I sent the camera to you the lens had a cap on it and when I got it back there was none. I would really appreciate it if you would look around for my lens cap and send it back to me. It says "OLYMPUS" on it and it's a 58mm dia. cap. Regards, Josh Audette (see invoice 00197776 for details)