The other day in the gym locker room I watched as a young man in his late 20s undressed. By all indications he was straight. When he took off his socks, I noticed with a slight startle that his toe nails were painted with a dark blue polish. What a turn-off. Don’t do that. I suppose it’s ok if you’re gay, but please straight men, no nail polish. Yuck.

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Normally I don't like to write about work-related stuff, but here's an exception. The other day at work I was trying to use a new online system to submit my travel expense report. It was meant to replace our current online system, though no one really understands what was deficient about it that necessitated a change. We each quietly muttered complaints about cutting costs by outsourcing to offshore vendors, etc. And surely there is much to this. Little was given to explain it, which itself is rather telling. I didn't care really. I just wanted to figure it out quickly and get my report submitted. But I would quickly came to care.

Oh, I filled out the thing and submitted it without paying much attention to the details. When my manager received it, she noticed I'd used the wrong account number, so she sent it back to me. Except then I couldn't open it. Why not? Well, I consulted the online help. Of course you can't simply click on a help button and expect to be helped. You have to log in to access help! User name and password. If you haven't registered yet, please register and a password will be sent to you. When finally I get in, I can find nothing helpful--there doesn't appear to be regular help or a manual--just answers to common questions, and some "helpful tips." (Later I discovered an online manual, buried deep within the help system. It was actually somewhat helpful…. Except that it couldn’t be located.)

After wasting already over 30 minutes trying to figure out the system and then looking through help, I decide to call a help number. I dial the number and it begins to ring--with the now almost unfamiliar rotary phone dial tone. A man with an Indian accent from a distant land answers and immediately asks for my employee number. I'm feeling nasty at this point, because I know what will come next. I know that no matter what I say or how I say it, I'll have to repeat the number multiple times. I tell him the number in a slow, methodical tone, two numbers at a time, articulating and enunciating as if trying to communicate with the deaf. He gets the first 4 digits and I move on. But as I move on, am I repeating the previous numbers for clarity or moving forward? What were those next numbers? Seven three? So 1 - 5 - 5 - 0 - 7 - 3 - 7- 3? No. It's ..... I'm sorry. I got confused. Could you give me that number again? He's apologetic and a bit concerned that he's annoying me, which he is. But I understand the problem. We're talking across cultures and continents, and communication problems are inevitable. Still I'm angry that he can't get a simple sequence of numbers despite me being very conscious of the problems and making every effort to bridge the communication gap. I expected the numbers to be botched, and they were.

He got the numbers eventually. I tried to explain the problem—I can’t open the expense report I submitted. He wasn't sure what to do. He had me go into Internet Options and delete all my offline content as well as all cookies (Now all of the countless username/passwords for the many different applications I need for my job are lost). Now try. Nothing? Ok, did you refresh? No. Try to refresh. Still nothing? Ok, log out, close your browser, and log back in. Ok. Now delete all offline content and cookies, refresh, and try again. Now a different error, but still no success. I'll have to submit a ticket, he says. He has me write down a 12-digit ticket number, for what purpose I don't know. I hear nothing for over a day. I try again. I call again. Again my employee number is repeated four times. Again I explain the problem. I clarify and dismiss his suggestions as already unsuccessful. He explains to me why I can't open the report, but he can't fix the matter. He submits a ticket, and I take down a 12-digit number. The next day my manager receives an automated email message that the problem has been resolved. Please try again.

She tries, but can do nothing. I can do nothing. I call again, giving my employee number twice. Someone explains that my manager must fix the problem on her end. She should have rejected the report instead of returning it for more information. She must reject it for me to edit it. But she can do nothing, I explain. Did she delete all offline content and all cookies, and then refresh? I suspect not. I hang up, and I watch over her shoulder as she does this. Still nothing. I call back. Again the employee number. I explain that we have tried without success. They say the report is locked and will have to be unlocked by a DBA on their end. He will submit a ticket. He submits a ticket, and we wait until the next day. Nothing from them. My boss asks about the status, so I try to open the report. I can't. She tries to open the report. She can't. I call. They have to report the matter to the DBA to unlock. “Yes,” I think to myself, “that's what you said yesterday. I submitted a ticket. What of that?” But I say nothing. He tells me he'll report the matter to the DBA to have it unlocked. It may take an hour or so. We wait.

In about 20 minutes my manager asks, so we try again. Miraculously she can open the report. Finally! We’re almost to the promised land, the seas have parted, and our lives may finally move forward. In a swirling fit of ecstasy and awe at being able to open the report, my manager excitedly clicks on the button ... to accept instead of reject! When finally we’re able to act on the report, she accepts the defective report after days of haggling and fighting to correct it! All is lost. The report is submitted despite being allocated to the incorrect cost center. There's no turning back.

On this whole matter I spent about 3 or 4 hours in total, and I called 4 times to India--this for a new system meant to reduce costs and streamline our travel reporting. And all of this to submit an expense report for our team lunch at the Olive Garden, because my manager forgot to bring her Am Ex card with her, and because I was foolish enough to blurt out that I always carry mine. Many lessons learned here.