Alicia’s Accident

Remember AOL? When you used to sign in with a screen name, something like SmileQT29 (yes, my real one from 8th grade), and you chat with all of your friends after school?
SmileQT29: Do you think Colin is going to ask me to the dance?
Brit4Eva: OMG, yes. He is so cute! LOL BRB
Do you remember when you started to tell your parents that you were just “doing your homework” on the computer and not answering chats like “A/S/L”? Good gracious, how dangerous were those right?
The days before the internet were so breezy. You didn’t have to fear that you would forever be a single cat lady because TrackStR88 didn’t reply to you right away. You had to use old school tricks like dial *69 to see who just called you and God forbid if you didn’t know a name attached to a number. You had to write your papers out BY HAND and excuses like “I lost my homework sheet” were actually viable. The good ol’ days.
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Whatcha hiding from, Alicia?

Fast forward to today. Everything was going really well. We had our web designer in the office and he was helping us with a few housecleaning things. We had almost every team and every player fully registered on the website. Our players had started getting cute with profile pictures and team slogans (personal favorite and the only one I could recall later FoolHouse’s “Do your best”). Everything seemed to be up to speed and running beautifully. We were just beginning to enter team standings, schedules and personal player stats….
…when it happened. The single worst moment in my bocce career. I DELETED EVERYTHING. Every. Thing. Every player. Every team. EVERY LEAGUE ASSOCIATED WITH CHICAGO. Every picture. Every slogan. Gone. There was no back button. No ctrl + Z = undo. Our web designer was dumbfounded. How could this sweet SmileQT29@aol.com have so much power?
I was immediately drenched in sweat. I was breathing heavy and my hands were shaking. Please oh please can this be fixed? Minutes went by. No hope. We had to start over. Everything from memory. I continued having symptoms of a panic attack. I even stood outside for a few minutes in a t-shirt in the 25 degree weather. I came back and went straight for the bottle of Dickel whiskey stashed in the drawer (typically saved for special occasions of a happy nature). It was 11:05AM.
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All the drinks. Some of the chips.

After I collected myself (I didn’t even cry!), we got to work. Alex, my business partner and friend for life, was calm, cool and collected about the entire thing. He wasn’t mad and he didn’t freak out. He let me pace the room for several minutes until I found my focus. We spent the next eight hours manually entering every team, every league and every player. Our web designer was there the entire time too and didn’t miss a beat. God bless you, Fox. Matt David was in the background assisting with other needs—picking up lunch for the group, sending out invoices, providing laughs.
We recalled people by their emails and recreated as much of their profiles as we possibly could. Thankfully, you all are so memorable because it wasn’t quite the Mission Imbocceball I feared. If not for this letter, I bet some of you would never have even noticed.
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No fingerprints.

It’s moments like today that remind me of how great and supportive this team is. What other company would gladly and willingly work alongside you to fix such a massive mistake? American Bocce Company. I think Alex even enjoyed the challenge of it all. Sorry that I drank all of the whiskey, bud.
PS—You guys should probably check your team and personal profile. Sorry that you have to upload a new picture. And if you run into any additional problem, email alicia@americanbocceco.com. I hope I don’t receive 113 hot shots this week, but I guess I am due.

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