Don't Pass / Don't Come Free Odds Bet - lol Craps

Since my last story went over so well, I guess I will share another from my time at Macropoint.
Now, some people believe the customer is always right. This is a problematic belief. The truth is, most of the time customer is an entitled twat, but you're supposed to perform admirably anyway. This gets harder when you're dealing with anyone who thinks they know something that they do not.
So a guy comes in to my department and I greet him at the carpet. I tended to be 'Johnny On the Spot' whenever someone came in. "Welcome to Our Build Your Own Department, I'm Anoymouse, what are we putting together today?" The man scoffs at me and says;
"A computer, obviously!" All attitude. He was neckbeard wearing a My Chemical Romance shirt, pant's so tight that he had a mushroom top, and mismatch shoes. This was obviously on purpose as both shoes were clean, just, didn't fit his look.
I didn't take much time, examining him, my dad had always told me I gotta get the measure of a man with a glance and look em in the eye the whole time. He literally used test us on this crap. Turn, look, then tell him what cars we saw in that split second. I was decent enough at it, but not great. I instead would tell myself little lyrics on the fly to remember key details. It's become a life habit.
I explain this to point out that I wasn't staring at his 'look', so I'm pretty sure the snickering hens in the General Section, who didn't work for us, were the source of his ire about being judge about his look. He took my smile as me thinking something was funny. I feigned ignorance, like I didn't hear him, and then when he asked again, I apologized and asked him to speak louder. Told him I was hard of hearing. This relaxed him a bit, thinking I couldn't possibly have heard the hen's giving him the business. I did, but I wasn't going to show it.
With an attitude he handed me a list and leaned forward shouting.
"I don't wanna be sold nothing! Here's what I need, go get it..." I look at the list and it's pretty thorough. Names of items and SKU numbers. I'm like bet. This looks like a full build, good money, though a lot of them I identify as cheaper parts.
I tell him it'll take me a few minutes and invite him to take a look around in case he sees anything else he might need. He rudely says he'll wait there and he's ain't buying shit else, so don't try none of my snake oil salesman crap. I smiled and say, 'Oh no, but it's so good for the joint and muscles." He didn't think it was funny, so I just walked away and got his stuff.
Halfway through grabbing his items I realized that he only looked at prices and not what each thing did. His build had an AMD processor, but he wanted an intel board. The Case he wanted was slim and the video card he wanted would not fit, he needed lower profile; though the intel board had integrated graphics, so I was sure why he picked a card. Also the power supply he wanted was of lower quality and wattage than the one that came with the case. All and all, I was compelled to ask what the hell he was trying to build.
I gathered everything quickly and brought it up. Going over each piece with him and getting his approval. I then asked him if all of this was for the same build, which he replied with a something smart like, 'Wow, how observant of you..." or something like that. I smiled and tried to inform him that some of those parts would not work together, but he simply cut me off.
"Listen, I don't need you to try to upsell me. I been building computers for a while, I know what I'm doing." He did not, and I wanted to question that validity of his claim. I asked him then if he would like to hear about our return policy, just in case. He got belligerent. Telling me he knows what he's doing and how dare I treat him like he's stupid just because of the way he look. Granted, he did look stupid, but I think his ire was more for the cute girls giving him shit and some insecurity vs anything I said.
"Alrighty, you are not interested in our return policy OR our extended warranty policy right?" I confirmed. We are supposed to ask about the warranties with everyone, but I figured he was not going to take kindly to that, so all I wanted to do was cover my basis.
"Warranties are for suckers... do I look like a sucker?" he snapped. Yes, he did, but I wasn't going to say that. I just smiled at him and asked if I could double check his list to see if I got everything. I whipped out my phone and took a picture of everything, a long with the list. I knew most of this was coming back. And let him go about his day. I didn't even sticker it. I knew what was coming.
Two days later, Neckbeard shows back up, muffin top, two different pairs of shoes, and an anime shirt that made Goku look like he had a fisheye head. He looked embarrassed and angry. He had with him someone who I at first thought was his girlfriend, a little Latino woman who I was certain was either blind or a gold digger, but turned out to be his sister. ABSOLUTELY NO RESEMBLANCE.
She was friendly and told me she was trying to build a gaming computer to play Crysis. I was a little incredulous, young and, to be honest at that time did not think girls played games like that, so I turned and to him and said 'Crysis?' and he shrugged. Little Lady stepped up and reiterated herself, with a bit of friendly mocking cause she knew what I was thinking. Apparently she got shit for being a Gamer Girl. I just shrugged and told the truth. There was no way in hell that previous build was gonna play Crysis very well. The brother, whom I'm gonna call Neckbeard from here on out, had an attitude. He said yeah and handed me another list, this one similar to before.
He made no explanation for his previous mistake and just told me to get the new items, a long with the same line about not upselling him. I looked at the list and knew right away that build wasn't gonna play that game very well. I mean, I could get him there with a 1500 dollar build, barely, But this was something like 900 dollars and that video card, don't remember what it was, was not gonna cut it. I told him so, and that maybe he should look at the gams specs online which would help him make a better decision. He told me he had done his homework and to just get what he said. I looked at his sister, pleading, and told her that I could come up with a system that was both affordable and would run the game 'decently'. He interjected and got mad, threatening to get another salesperson. And said okay; but I knew his ass would be back again. As I'm getting his stuff, I hear him, away from his sister, on the phone. He's telling someone that he wants to finish this up and get the build done, apparently his parents had allocated some money for this and he was trying to get a cheap system so he could keep the rest of the money. A real d-bag move, but not my problem. I gathered what he asked for and sent them on their way, didn't tag this stuff either, it was either coming back or could go to the pool.
I saw Neckbeard two days later with little sister in tow, and his parents. He was not dressed like a disaster that day. His parents did all the talking. There was no list. They told me that they'd trusted their son to get this done, cause he was 'good with computers', but the game wasn't working properly and they were trying to get everything together for their daughters birthday, which had apparently passed after the first time I met Neckbeard. The parents then told me they only had 3000 dollars to spend on this computer, they'd looked up the average price of high end gaming rigs, and wanted to buy an Alienware, but were convinced by there son to Build it there selves, possibly so he can control what they spent.
3000 dollars?! This man was trying to snake his parents out of like 2000 bucks with these shitty builds. They told me to put together something that would work; and I smiled at Neckbeard and said; 'With a 3000 dollar limit?' They confirmed and I grinned. Queue Malicious compliance.
I tell them I can definitely do that, and ask if they want to come with me and discuss each part, piece by piece; and why I think they need it for the game. I go with them and I build a 3000 dollar system. Neckbeard is losing his shit. Why do we need this. Why do we need that. But no one will listen to him because of his previous failures. I built a system that I'd be proud to own. And got it around 2700 and then explained the warranty and how they could have us build it and have parts and labor on that warranty. Of course they took it. Neckbeard was pissed cause we went a little over, and I even talked his parents into getting a boss ass monitor for the game. These, I certainly stickered.
If Neckbeard hadn't been such a dick, I'd have built him a system that could play the game and he would have been able to go about his fiendish plan and keep his parents change, instead, he got nothing and his sister got a build that she loved and a case that she apparently always wanted. A white Antec with purple fans.
Moral of the story is, don't be a dick to your salesman. Tell em what you want and need and they will accommodate most times. Or at the very least, know what the heck your doing. If he'd known computers like he'd claimed, this wouldn't have been an issue. Either way, I'm glad things didn't work out for him. And this time, there were no returns.
EDIT;
Adding this since people keep asking or misunderstanding. This happened in 2008. I haven't worked for that company since 2009.

First Contact - Third Wave - Chapter 406

[first] [prev] [next]
Vuxten walked quietly next to Sergeant Addox, listening in on the rest of the platoon talking to one another on the chat channel. They were either taking bets on how long the little green mantid had been in cryostorage or bitching about the taste of the nutripaste or their water.
All good.
Addox stopped in front of the door that the little green one pointed at before settling back down on the top of Addox's helmet. Vuxten checked and saw that Addox was running his internal heat at three degrees above normal and raising the threshhold for dumping heat into his heat sinks or deploying the small cooling fins.
"Past. Open and there," the little greenie said. It settled back down and began gnawing on the beef jerky that Casey had run up for him.
"Casey, crack the door," Vuxten ordered. He opened the channel to the rest of the platoon. "Everyone, weapons off safe but fingers off the trigger."
One by one the icons went to amber.
Casey knelt down and started working on the door, bypassing it in only a few minutes. It took a few more minutes to break the weld holding the door closed and Casey took a minute to lube the track the door was set on.
"Ready?" Casey asked, holding up the two wires.
"Ready," Vuxten told him.
Casey touched the wires together and the door slid open. Helmet lights and shoulder lights illuminated the inside of the room with harsh white light for the first time in millions of years.
"Mantid automation, man," Addox said softly.
The computer was obvious. Quantum systems, supercooled, the piping repaired over and over again. The dangling superconductor wires woven through everything.
Vuxten saw the "Phasic Control Maintenance Manifold" right away. Looking at it gave him a headache as the psychic shielding jumped six points. The system was complex, the shielding and casings removed on half of the equipment.
"Dropping my psychic shielding five percent," Addox warned. He gave a low grunt. "Wuff, I can feel the tingle across the back of my teeth."
"471, talk with your ancestor, check the system, see what you guys can do," Vuxten said.
--roger roger-- 471 sent back. --better have turkey for us--
"I'll have Casey fab you up some turkey jerky," Vuxten promised.
--casey use too much lemon pepper-- 471 said, opening the clamshell.
The psychic protection clamped down hard enough the little mantid's knees buckled for a moment. He shook his head, the other dozen green mantids following suit. He climbed down Vuxten, moving across of the floor to the electrical conduits.
--it appears to run off of some form of power-- 471 sent.
Vuxten laughed.
--checky checky-- 471 said. --we will see what we can see--
Vuxten watched the greenies check out the computer systems, the phasic system, the wiring on the walls. He moved over and leaned against a computer console, watching everyone get to work.
"He's asleep," Casey said, jerking a thumb at the green mantid on top of Addox's helmet. "Poor little guy has some serious freezer burn. Probably been in cryostasis on and off since the Precursor War."
Vuxten nodded, remaining silent.
Long minutes passed while Vuxten chewed a piece of gum and watched.
"Glory, do you read?" Casey asked from where he was standing next to one of the computer consoles.
"I read you, Sergeant. Line's full of distortion and interference though," Glory answered.
"How's your dataslicing? Any good at it?" Casey asked.
Glory chuckled. "I'm a DS, what do you think?"
"We've got a Precursor Era computer system here, VI run. Can you do your thing and, you know, take over the system?" Casey asked.
There was a pleasant laugh. "No can do, Casey. Your pipeline is wide enough for me to talk, maybe do some data exchange, but the interference would cause too many errors and your pipeline is too thin for my fat ass."
"Heh, first time a woman's ever complained about the width of my pipe," Casey laughed.
"I'm hard to please," Glory laughed with him. "I'll help what I can, but you're going to have to depend on the greenies. 680 was in Digital Warfare Corps before transferring to the Telkan Marines," she said.
"680, can you lead everyone into cracking that computer open?" Vuxten asked.
--easy peasy lemon squeezy-- 680 sent back.
The greenies crawled over the equipment, using access hatches designed for them but not.
-----------------
Cordexen sat in his command chair, staring at the console he had moved in front of him. He had traced, as best he could with only limited permissions, the areas where the servitor caste had stopped responding for a long period before responding again.
It was a wandering, meandering path from the Deep Ore Miner Maintenance and Processing Bay that led the empty area on his map that Cordexen knew contained the Hive Queens chambers, the primary phasic control system, and the facility's master control computer systems.
He wracked his brain, trying to figure out how the mere passage of the bipeds could be disturbing the servitors. Perhaps they left behind some of their numbers to be devoured?
No, that would be done by primitives, and primitives didn't fashion high tech combat armor or work Substance W.
Cordexen knew he should be alarmed by an alien species invading the facility but he honestly could not muster up the emotion to care much. If they destroyed the facility, he would be free. If they busted down his door and shot him, he would be free. If they destroyed the computer and the phasic system, he would be free.
No matter what happened, as long as it changed the unending status quo, he would be free.
"Warning, unauthorized entry to computer mainframe detected," the facility VI suddenly said. "Security control alert: unauthorized entry to computer mainframe housing."
"Open the door. I will examine the breach," Cordexen said, sitting up.
"Unable to comply. Message is as follows," the VI said.
Cordexen slumped in his chair as the Queen's words were repeated back to him.
"Unauthorized breach to..." the computer started. "Access granted. Welcome 'little teapot', admin access granted. Maintenance access granted. Power user group 'all your base' has been created."
Cordexen perked up again, watching his screen. Data was flowing by at an incredible rate, the screen's refresh capability actually being overloaded by the amount of data flashing. The VI kept reciting groups being created, access being granted to groups, power users logging on.
He watched as the facility actually posted a maintenance update to his screen.
Half of the facility was dormant. The cryopods were at critical. The power was running at one tenth power. Life support was at bare minimum.
He felt the heaters kick on, blowing warm air into the control room.
Cordexen slowly unfolded from his chair, moving over and standing under the vent.
He raised his face up, closing the armored eyelids, relishing in the warmth.
He imagined he was standing outside.
----------------
Klakeka stirred as the lights came on in his command center. He heard the environmental system kick in and felt warm air pour from the vent, enveloping him in a warm blanket of heated air. His monitor was showing a deep level scan of the facility's status.
"Environmental system lockout lifted by admin power user 'hip hop soldier'," the VI stated. "Nutripaste lockout lifted by power user 'delicious delicious turkey'. Facility lockout under review by power user 'all the electrons to my yard'."
Klakeka stared at the monitor as data flashed by almost impossibly fast. User groups he had never heard of were taking over systems, rebooting some systems, powering down others, powering up the rest.
"Power user 'Great and Powerful Zig' has issued autonomous mining machine recall and maintenance phase," the VI reported.
"Define user 'Great and Powerful Zig'," Klakeka ordered.
"Cannot comply. Message is as follow," the VI said and Klakeka started to huddle in on himself.
"Hi. My name is Technical Sergeant Grade Six 'proton movement in high gravity low temperature semi-solid strange matter' but you may call me 538. If you shoot at us we'll kill you. This facility is under lockdown by the Terran Confederate Military. Please keep all hands and bladearms inside the vehicle and remain seated at all times. Question and answer period will be after full facility control. The war is over but we'll still kill you if you resist. Turkey is delicious and we will share it with you. End message," the VI said.
Klakeka just stared. "Computer, replay message."
The VI obediently obliged, repeating it.
Klakeka frowned slightly, his antenna crossing slightly.
"Computer, define... 'turkey'," Klakeka ordered.
"Cannot com... data loading. Loaded," the VI said. It suddenly showed a picture of a fat strange looking fowl. The feathers flew off of it, the head fell off, and it suddenly fell in boiling grease. It emerged looking golden brown and covered with a light crust of ground up grain flour. The skin and meat was pulled away, revealing moist white meat that dripped grease and juices.
Klakeka found himself salivating just staring at the image.
The meat was ripped away and dropped to cartoon green servitors, who were all dancing with strange little icons replacing their eyes to display happiness.
"Turkey," the VI stated with authority. "Is delicious."
"I would very much like some," Klakeka said softly.
"Cannot comp..." the VI started to say. "Do not resist. Resistance will be met with 15mm high explosive armor defeating phasic enhanced antimatter kinetic rounds delivered in groups. Compliance will be met with delicious turkey."
Klakeka kept salivating, watching the picture.
Comply? I'll do more than comply. I will put on a hat and dance like a Vurkeent at a mating ritual for a chunk of that delicious looking meat, he thought to himself. It sounds much more delicious than bullets.
----------------
Abriketa petted the little green servitor in his lap gently. He was able to generate enough of a psychic field that through contact he could ease its anxiety at not working on the task it had been ordered to complete. Its chitin was dull and flaky, waxy and distressed, but it huddled up against Abriketa in the cold and dark of the command center.
"Someone please talk to me," Abriketa mourned.
"Cannot comply. Message is as..." the computer suddenly cut off. It had been spouting gibberish for the last few minutes and Abriketa had tuned it out.
"Hi. My name is 'P2=G1(M1m2/r2^3)3' which is the universal law of phasic strength over distance accounting for gravity but you may call me '680'," the computer suddenly said.
"I am Abriketa," he said. Part of him, ancient commands from a queen long dead, wanted him to immediately storm out and kill this '680', but he ignored it, the command no longer having the power to induce anxiety or stress. "One of the facility security commanders. What of you?"
"I am a Technical Sergeant Grade Five with the Terran Confederate Military, specializing in computer system penetration and protection," the computer stated. It sounded different, like the words were almost tumbling over one another despite the steady cadence from the computer. "I'm only dataslicing your archive records so I can spare attention speak with you while I carry out my task."
"Are you real or is this another hallucination?" Abriketa asked.
He had once suffered hallucinations for the entire time he had been outside of the cryopod, his brain taking him back to the time he was in the creche learning to be a warrior caste. Not that the VI had cared. It had merely put him back in cryosleep.
"I'm real, but that's what a hallucination would say, isn't it?" the voice answered. "Huh, rare earth mining, like we suspected. Interesting, the liquid nickle-iron core is nearly 11% rare elements, down from 14%. You've been busy. Oops, sorry. What do you want to talk about?"
"Who are you?"
"I told you already. Call me 680, it takes forever for you non-technical types to say my name and you sound dorky," the voice said. It repeated the longer name, only with an accent that made the name sound mangled and stupid. "So, how long have you been here?"
Abriketa exhaled slowly through his abdomen, slumping down slightly. "Forever. I have been here forever. Since the Atrekna released their great war machines upon the Lanaktallan and us both, betraying us."
"So the Atrekna fired the first shot? Good to know. Willing to talk about it?" 680 asked. "Hang on, you've gotta be miserable."
Abriketa nodded. "I am indeed miserable."
The lights came on and the fans whirred to life. Abriketa felt warm air begin to circulate and sighed deeply.
"I thank you, 680," the massive mantid warrior said.
"How long have you been in the dark?" 680 asked.
"Since we slew the queens. We did not know that they had prepared for that eventuality and they entombed us all here, for all eternity," Abriketa asked. "The phasic regulators allow the computer to give orders to the mantid as if it was a queen. I am unable to countermand the computer's commands to the servitor castes."
"That's interesting," 680 said. "So the servitor caste's higher brain functions are controlled and suppressed?"
"Without the phasic regulator the servitor castes would return to primitive hunter gatherer reflexes," Abriketa said. He gave a sigh. "I so wish they could talk. I have been so lonely."
"Don't move. We have to reset the system. It'll come right back," 680 said.
The lights clicked off and the environmental system went dead.
Abriketa didn't care, still petting the servitor in his lap.
Even if it had only been a hallucination, being able to speak to another after so long meant he would die happy.
--------------
"How's it look?" Vuxten asked from where he was sitting in a chair designed for a massive mantid.
Addox had a good dozen green mantids huddled on his shoulders, on top of his helmet, and on his legs as he sat on the floor. Some were shivering, almost all of them were munching on turkey or beef jerky that Casey had ran off his nanoforge.
Another green mantid came in, started moving toward the computer, passed within a few feet of Addox and stopped. Its antenna lifted and it looked around, almost as if it was waking from a long sleep. It moved over next to another one of its kind.
"Food?" It asked.
"Is good," the one eating said. "Is turkey."
"Here, little guy," Addox said, holding out a piece of turkey. The little greenie took it and sat down next to its brethren.
"How's it look, Sergeant Addox?" Vuxten repeated.
"Pretty good. The phasic system is on its own dedicated systems, the software is all hard encoded, no way to patch it. It's different than the phasic systems used by the Confederacy to ensure no queen pops up and slams a hive-mind down on our Mantid allies and members," Addox said. Several little green servitors were in his lap and he was carefully petting them with one armored gauntlet. The ones on his lap had eaten more beef jerky and then gone to sleep. "If we want to disrupt it, we'll have to blow it in place."
"What about the active mantids? Any data on them?" Vuxten asked.
Addox nodded. "Three warrior caste are awake, pulled from cryostasis. That represents over half of the remaining warriors. No speakers, no queens, looks like most of the warriors and speakers were killed attacking the queens. There's about twenty active greenies, but the computer keeps sending them in here. There's only about fifty more in cryostasis. The remaining ones have largely succumbed to cryo-shock."
"How long?" Plunex asked.
"They've been down here for longer than anything I've ever seen. I'd say the Precursor War. They weren't hatched later. From the records 680 pulled, it looks like the computer would wake them up for emergencies it couldn't handle then refreeze them," Addox said. He gave a slight shudder. "They're the oldest living things I know of, frozen and thawed over and over for over a hundred million years."
"By the Digital Omnimessiah," Plunex said softly. "Talk about endless torment. May the Grave Bound Beauty comfort the damned."
Vuxten noticed that Casey was off to the side, doing something with a hologram projection. He shoved himself off of the chair and moved over to Casey.
"What are you doing, Sergeant Casey?" Vuxten asked.
Casey didn't look away from the hologram. "Back when I met Peak, oh, a hundred or so years back, she worked in psyops. Memetic Warfare Division," Casey said. He adjusted the colors slightly. "You've probably seen her handiwork a couple dozen times."
"OK," Vuxten said. The image was blurry to him, looked like it slightly overlapped itself over four columns.
"Well, explaining concepts to these guys is going to be difficult. We want to make sure they understand if they try to fight us, even if they overwhelm you and your people with their psychic power, Addox and I will rip them apart with our bare hands," Casey said. "Now, funny thing Peak taught me about memes is something I'm going to put to work."
Vuxten waited a moment. Finally, he tabbed up another piece of stimgum and sighed. "What's the weird thing, Sergeant?"
Casey shifted an image slightly. "OK, the more text on a meme, the less effective it is. Nobody wants to read your blathering manifesto, they want to look, laugh, and move on, or get the data quickly. The less words you use, the better. If you have a dual meme, they need to be on top of one another or side to side, instantly comparable, not 'turn over' or 'next page' crap," Casey said. He adjusted some of the lines again. "Now, a properly done image meme doesn't need text to convey its message. In some ways, the less words the more information you can have in the meme."
"What's the weird thing?" Vuxten repeated.
"A good, properly done meme, bypasses language and cultural barriers, even species barriers. We might not know anything about them, but there is a way to communicate, and that's memes," Casey said. "680 is talking to one through the computer, but the language drift and syntax morphology is damn near insurmountable outside of the computer. I want to make sure my meme works right and we don't have to fight these guys."
"So you're going to meme the warriors to death?" Vuxten asked.
"More like meme them to life," Casey said. He laughed. "There's an old classic song I could parody, right there."
"Think it'll work?" Vuxten asked.
"Might be a good idea to try this before we blow up the mountain, sir," Casey said, turning and giving a grin. "If it doesn't, I'm pretty sure we just blow the geothermal in place and ride out on a tsumani of lava."
"Hardy har har," Vuxten said, turning away. "Let me know when your magic meme is ready."
"I'll need a map of the facility, sir," Casey said, his voice distracted.
"Then I'll make sure you get it," Vuxten said.
---------------
General No'Drak moved into the situation room, putting a cigarette between his mandibles as he moved up to the holotank. He'd managed to get a good night's rest and a meal, but once again duty pulled him back.
The Precursors were largely defeated. Mopup was down to the infantry units. The tanks and strikers were largely cycled back for maintenance and crew relief.
Great Most High/General A'armo'o was requesting complete refit of his tanks. More than a refit, a "Service Life Extension" performed on them to bring them up to "parity or near-parity with Confederate allied military forces" that would require the least amount of retraining for his troops.
No'Drak considered it for a long moment. The decision was his, all the way to deciding if he wanted to offer a place in the Confederate military to the Lanaktallan soldiers.
It had proven highly effective in the case of the Warsteel Herd.
General No'Drak thumbed the approval button.
Next up was priority and No'Drak stared at it.
A list of template requests from that psycho Casey.
The most recent one was a recon drone with holoemitters calibrated for Mantid eyes. It had to be able to problem solve navigation issues, among other things, but didn't require a VI since his data bandwidth was low and depending on spooky particle boojums.
Oddly enough, there had also been a template request for turkey meat with Mantid vitamin additions as well as beef of the same kind.
General No'Drak frowned.
What are you up to? he asked.
Next up was notification that his request for a full Elven Court had been approved and was enroute from Telkan with an ETA of less than four days.
After that was meteorological reports on the damage all the atomic weapons and the Precursors had done to the ecosystem.
Well, at least there's going to be living people to worry about their ecosystem, No'Drak thought to himself as he settled in and began reading the reports.
Behind him, Second Most High Ge'ermo'o entered. He slaved his monitor to No'Drak's so he could see what decisions the General was making. No'Drak authorized it with a tap of his bladearm almost absently, noting the radiation levels in the sea water was far lower than initial projections.
Ge'ermo'o sat and watched the data Smokey 'No was looking over and contemplating why the Treana'ad officer made each decision he did.
He was a most observant officer, he was sure he could deduce, given time and information, each of General No'Drak's command decisions and the reasons behind them.
------------------------
Cordexen opened his eyelids at the hissing noise. He looked at the door and saw the bright sparkle of a fusion torch cutting its way through the endosteel. It was a round half-circle, roughly the size of a russet servitor.
Cordexen reluctantly moved away from the air blowing through the vent and his fantasies of standing in a field of grass. He moved to his command chair and sat down, watching.
After a moment the metal fell to the floor. There was burst of mist and then the strangest thing rolled through the hole.
It had two tracks providing mobility. It was a large box with a row of infrared sensors with a pair of infrared projectors on each side to provide it with the ability to see. The little thing rolled into the middle of the room and shifted until it was facing him.
It suddenly played a little tune that Cordexen found pleasing. A mathematical arrangement of audible tones.
Suddenly a hologram flickered to life and Cordexen stared at it.
It was designed for his compound eyes to see clearly, the colors pleasing and well defined.
It was two columns of three pictures. Drawn, stylized pictures that made the subjects enjoyable to look at even if the colors were arranged in a slightly humorous fashion.
On the left it showed a warrior caste Mantid holding his rifle and pointing it at the door. The picture below showed bipeds and green servitors coming in and the warrior caste mantid shooting at them. The bottom picture showed the warrior caste mantid dead in the chair with little skulls for eyes and symbols of displeasure and sadness over the dead warrior.
On the right it showed the warrior mantid's rifle on the floor, the warrior mantid's arms and bladearms were lifted up. The one below showed the bipeds coming in and the warrior mantid holding a little stick with a square of white cloth on it and waving. The bottom picture showed the warrior mantid eating turkey with symbols indicating happiness around it.
They wish me to surrender or they will kill me, Cordexen thought. If I fight, they will kill me. They are familiar enough with my people to create this image. It can be clearly seen, the colors are pleasant, and the artistic style is stylized to be pleasing to me. They know my people and this message tells me that they will not only try to kill me if I resist, they know they can kill me.
He looked at the little robot and it played the tune again. This time the back opened and Cordexen flinched, expecting death to come from the little drone.
Instead it popped up a plas stick with a white cloth on it.
I would do anything just to see the sun once more, Cordexen thought.
He moved forward, picking up the flag from the little robot.
It made happy beeping noises.
The back slid open and steam billowed out. Cordexen jerked back reflexively. He could smell cooked meat, strange spices, and his sensitive antenna were almost overwhelmed by the first taste of something besides nutripaste he had sensed in lifetimes.
A cooked fowl raised up with a little triumphant tune.
"TuRkEy Is DeLiCiOuS" appeared above the little robot in maintenance runes. It turned and clattered away as Cordexen took his two prizes and returned to his command chair.
At the first bite Cordexen had admit the robot was right.
Turkey was delicious.
[first] [prev] [next]

[SportsLine] Our model simulated the NFL season 10,000 times. Here are the AFC teams who went to the playoffs most often:

Unleashed pt. 52

First / Prev / Next

Alexa was sitting cross legged before Sassie, with Aiov lying casually on the German Shepherd’s back. She had a metal bowl in her lap with chunks of fresh meat for Aiov and cooked meat for her large canine protector. It had been a difficult time as the dog had missed Aaron more and more, to the point that she had begun to refuse food. Aiov's enthusiasm, however, seemed to help slightly in countering that refusal, and Alexa had found that feeding them together at least got some food into the lonely Earth ambassador.
She scratched at the dog’s head as Aiov happily chomped on another scrap of meat. “Look at that! You won’t be outdone by a leokit now, will you?” She placed a cube of seared meat before Sassie’s nose. She sniffed it twice before eating. “You’re going to be so spoiled by the time we get him back. We’ll both get in trouble.”
Aiov snuggled into the thick black and tan fur, using her paw to guide the next morsel into her mouth. Sassie managed a few more pieces before turning her head away with a grunt. Satisfied with what she had achieved Alexa gave a few more scraps to Aiov before placing the bowl into the recycler. The loudspeakers throughout the Rinoxian vessel blared a loud message announcing they had now crossed into Hive space and that their readiness was being moved to level three.
Her door chimed. Opening it, she found Allistan in his new Terran Wolves uniform. “You need to come quickly, the Porkchop Express has arrived.”
As she grabbed Aaron's old leather jacket, Sassie immediately rose to follow which caused Aiov to roll to the floor. "You come," she spoke to the dog, then turned to the distinctly unhappy leokit who had just lost her warm pillow. "You stay, sorry.”
They walked briskly through the corridors of the Rinoxian warship towards a secure meeting room which had two Terran Wolves outside the door. Their black uniforms and red collars were easily identifiable and they gave sharp salutes as Alexa approached. “I told you not to salute.”
The two guards lowered their hands sheepishly as the doors opened. Sassie immediately surged past Alexa to happily greet the returning crew members. She moved from Ranjaz to Jaym, receiving many scratches and hugs. Even Eruwenn and Cygna received a quick examination, but she soon stopped when no sign of Aaron could be found. The German Shepherd forlornly returned to Alexa's side as the Awakened took a seat at the meeting table. “Is the room secure?”
Cygna, now in a smart black uniform with white collar, stood. “We have taken additional precautions due to the sensitive information we will be discussing.”
Tilting her head, Alexa took in the Fae’Dan’s new clothing. “You’re one of us now?”
Eruwenn gave a slight chuckle. Aside from Alexa, she was the only one not in uniform. “She lost a game of dalcho, or two.”
“Seven.” Ranjaz said with a wicked grin. “Don’t worry, she’s actually been a fairly competent assistant. Aside from her gambling issues, obviously.”
Her head drooping to look at her feet, Cygna replied, “I swear by Tulseria’s right hand, I will get you back for this!”
The Kittran’s grin grew more predatory. “Wanna bet?”
There was a long table by the wall where Embar was fixing himself a drink, He turned, shaking his head. “I’m not sure I approve of your recruiting techniques.”
The Kittran shrugged. “She’s worth it – even broke the code on this.” He tossed the recovered device onto the table as Embar returned and took his seat opposite him. “And, you’re going to want a stronger drink, General.”
Curiosity piqued, Allistan took his seat, preparing his notepad and pen. “What did you find?”
Ranjaz was about to speak when Eruwenn held up her hand. “I think we should let General Embar read this first. He can take a moment before we all continue.”
Raising an eyebrow, Embar sat down in a nearby chair and connected the device to a non-networked datapad. “Why me?” He began scrolling through the files, tapping on icons and delving deeper. His breathing suddenly stopped, his face contorting. Disbelief morphed into anger, and as his body tensed, anger turned to white-hot rage. He placed the datapad down on the table before him and stood, walking back towards the drinks table. He lowered his head, his body radiating anger as his muscles clenched and unclenched, then raised his fist into the air and slammed it into the table. Bottles, glasses and everything else it had held went crashing to the ground as it buckled under force of his blow. “We’re going to kill every last one of those Sentinel bastards!”
No longer smiling, Ranjaz stood. “You’re Tulseria damned right we are.”
Jaym was sitting silently, but she pulled a rag from her pocket and dabbed at her tears. After they had fled from the casino she had tried to help crack the encryption on the stolen device. Part of her wished they never had, as its contents had disturbed her so much. Now that they had finally caught up with Alexa, Embar and the others who had been on the Rinoxian homeworld, she empathised deeply with the pain this information was bringing. “It’s so awful, I’m so sorry Embar.”
Eruwenn patted the young Arkellian on the shoulder to comfort her as she looked at the Rinoxian. “Please believe me, General Warbringer. The council knew nothing of this.”
Alexa picked up the datapad, using her nanites to more quickly access the information. She grit her teeth, biting back her anger, then passed it quickly to Allistan. “You need to read this. Then we need to plan our next move.” She looked at the back of the unmoving Rinoxian. “Embar?”
Embar slowly turned around, his jaw set, determination in his eyes. “We keep this quiet. We’re on an active mission and need everyone focused on the job at hand.”
Allistan went to click his pen as he read, but with a gasp the pen fell from his fingers. “We can’t keep quiet, the galaxy needs to see this.”
The Rinoxian nodded. “They will. When the time is right.”

It had been two cycles and the incursion fleet had advanced deep into Hive space. Over half of the force accompanying them were the Rinoxians under their new Galactic Federation commanders. There were over a dozen Galactic Federation ships along with six Gowe destroyers, and a dozen ships from other races including the Niham and Kah’Ree. Admiral Pelar, on board the Blazing Dawn, commanded four Ashi ships including the Righteous Fury.
The smallest craft by far was the Porkchop Express, a speck amongst titans. Its white painted hull, chrome bull bars and bright cartoon logo were a stark contrast to the military ships it accompanied. Sassie was more comfortable now that she was in familiar territory, and slept on a pile of Aaron’s clothes in his quarters.
Allistan and Alexa were sitting opposite Jar’Bek in his small office. The Ashi looked exhausted as he finally put down his datapad. “I’m sorry to have kept you.”
Allistan fidgeted in his seat. “Not at all, was that your mother again?”
Stiffening slightly at the use of the word mother the lawyer forced himself to relax again. “Admiral Pelar has informed us that they have been repeatedly scanned by the Gowe. She’s taking no action, as we’re supposed to be allies, but wanted you to be aware.” Alexa nodded and he continued. “When we arrive at the next system the commanders of each ship have been called to the Hooves of Destiny. Vice-Admiral Koo Ji has requested an in person meeting, with all senior officers.”
There were several pen clicks. “That seems unusual.”
Jar’Bek gave a knowing nod. “Extremely. To remove every ship’s command, behind enemy lines? It makes no sense.”
Alexa pushed her hair back from her face. “The Rinoxians agreed to it?”
The Ashi nodded. “Most of their command have been replaced. Anyway, they outnumber – and outgun – the other ships. Why would they be concerned?”
Allistan’s pen clicked. “They probably just put it down to Gal. Fed. protocols, or fear.”
Jar’Bek nodded. “They’ve had us stopping in random systems to scan. No doubt it’s to delay us, but perhaps also to lower the Rinoxian’s guard?”
Leaning back in her chair, the Awakened considered the options. “Maybe there's another fleet waiting to ambush us? Or following us?”
Allistan twirled his pen in his fingers. “No, no. All eyes are on the border since Aaron’s capture. It must be something else.”
Moving on to her next idea, Alexa asked, “Sabotage?”
The Ashi gave a chuckle. “That is Admiral Pelar’s conclusion. The Gal. Fed. officers have been on board the other ships, and the possibility exists that there are Sentinels working amongst them. They are all in command positions, and will all be leaving. It’s a logical conclusion.”
Allistan’s pen halted its spinning. “The Ashi ships, they can’t have been sabotaged, right?”
The lawyer nodded. “True, but, it wouldn’t matter. Their ships are old and have seen too much action. Those Gowe ships alone are more than they could handle.”
The Fae’Dan sighed and shook his head at the situation they were facing. “We should have brought more ships. The new ones.”
Alexa, staring at the ceiling, spoke softly. “No, we don’t need to show our hand just yet. But send word to Chae’Sol, make sure he has the coordinates.”
Jar’Bek nodded and made a note on his datapad. “What about the others?”
The Awakened closed her eyes. It was times like this she missed her human and his habit of taking charge. “Tell Embar to warn his contacts among the Rinoxians. The others… I have no idea, I just want to sleep.”
Allistan, a stickler for accuracy, replied, “I didn’t think Awakened slept?”
She sat up and gave a half-hearted smile. In an unusual moment of vulnerability, she replied, “I was told you can do anything in a dream. For those moments, we would all be together again.”
Allistan struggled to come up with a response to that, and the Ashi, having noticed this, stepped in to fill the gap in conversation. “We’ll find him. I can’t lose the most profitable client in the galaxy now, can I?”
Now past the moment of awkwardness, the Fae’Dan also answered. “I’m sure he’s fine. In fact, he’s probably already on his way back to us.”
Alexa gave Allistan a withering look. “You think he single-handedly defeated the Hive, stole a ship and managed to figure out how to fly it back here?”
The former Inspector paused to consider it. “No. It will most likely be something even more preposterous. Perhaps he married their Queen?”
The ridiculousness of the idea brought a chuckle to the Awakened. “Maybe. Hopefully nothing that drastic; he’d probably just turn their society upside down with some ridiculous scheme.”
Jar’Bek also smiled. “A little civil unrest, perhaps a few riots? No doubt with merchandise.”
Finally breaking into a broad grin, Alexa replied, “I think we all might be over-estimating him a little.”

Aaron stood in the trade area of Toivoa station with a contingent of Gardener Royal Guards behind him, Tsy’Lo by his side, and a very angry mob in front of him. Several well-dressed local leaders were dragged from the crowd to stand before him; Mycena, Tricinic, Procyon and a dozen other refugee races were crammed into the triple height area of the station.
One of the leaders staggered towards Aaron. “You! You caused this!”
Aaron, feigning as much innocence as possible, pointed to his chest. “Me?”
One of the Mycena he had met during his time on the station came forward. “We’ve all seen the videos! They kept us in the dark about what is going on out there! The Galactic Federation are coming! Our leaders lied to us!”
The accusatory leader, a Procyon with greying fur, pointed at Aaron. “Your... Your propaganda, has driven them mad! Your lies! They’re destroying the station!”
The human smiled and maintained his innocent expression. “My propaganda?” Several in the crowd held up datapads; Aaron’s smiling face was on every one. “Oh... that propaganda.”
Tsy’Lo tugged on his sleeve. “What did you do?!”
Aaron crouched down slightly. “Remember when I accidentally picked up the kids datapad and you returned it?”
“Yes…” The Tricinic flushed orange as realisation struck. “It wasn’t the child’s datapad!”
Aaron straightened up. “Yeah, thanks for helping bring down society.” He laughed as Tsy’Lo became a very opaque green hue. “Don’t worry, I’ve got an idea.”
The greying Procyon shook his fist at the human. “You better! They should throw you in a cage for the rest of your life for this. Hundreds of celes of peace, destroyed!”
Aaron looked down at the angry alien. “Your peace, not theirs.” He gestured back towards the Gardeners, and walked towards them without waiting for a reply. He raised his hands high, motioning for the unruly mob to settle down. “Alright, alright. Settle down, munchkins. So the wizard’s a liar? Welcome to reality. The Gardeners have been fighting and dying to keep you safe from the flying monkeys, while you all hide in your Emerald City and get on with your lives. That shit ends now. You’re crying out for change? Then welcome to the revolution, baby! We’re opening up the borders, we’re rejoining the rest of the galaxy! No more hiding!”
The crowd was already worked up, and cheering came easily despite the large lack of understanding. The human nodded — he was enjoying this far too much — and then gestured again for quiet. He spoke quietly at first, adding excitement to his voice as it built in power. “So prepare for a chance of a lifetime! Be prepared for sensational news!”
The Procyon official’s mouth opened and closed silently before he managed to shake his mind free of the initial shock of the human’s words. “No! Stop! What are you even saying?”
Aaron didn’t care about the official. He put the palm of his hand on their face, which easily dwarfed it in size, and gently pushed them slowly backwards. He then leapt up onto a crate; his showmanship on camera was nothing to his on-stage presence. “A shining new era is tiptoeing nearer, and where do you feature? Just listen to teacher! You’ve stagnated here for long enough. Lied to and kept in the dark, well, no more!”
The crowd was his, he knew it. The official knew it. Tsy’Lo knew it and was a nervous shade of blue. Aaron clambered from the crate to the roof of a stall, standing high above the crowd. The cheers followed every rambling sentence and, drunk on power, Aaron was loving it. “Spread the word to every planet, every station, every colony and every ship. Change is not coming, it’s here and it is now!”
The crowd roared again, and the desperate official turned to Tsy’Lo. “What in the nine moons is he talking about?”
“I’ll tell you what I’m talking about.” Aaron snapped. He stood looking out over the crowd. “I am the Ambassador of a world called Earth. I have taken ownership of a small star system that is being colonised as we speak. These colonies are a coalition of races, from within the Federation, as well as without. We rule ourselves, but have treaties and agreements with the Federation itself, as well as various individual races within it.”
Several questions were called out from the crowd, but one voice was louder than the others. “How does that help us?”
With a smile, the human walked back and forth across the roof of the stall as he spoke. “Good question my friend.” He pointed vaguely at where the voice had come from. “I do not have contact with my homeworld at this time. To ensure that all of whatever Earth has become would be included we put in place clauses for future territories, dominions, settlements etc, etc…” The crowd was quiet now, trying to follow the human’s explanation. Looking out at the blank faces Aaron realised he needed to get to the point. “Congratulations, you’re now a protectorate of Earth!”

He was met with utter silence.

Suddenly, there were several angry yells from the crowd, some claiming this was a joke while others were simply confused. The official was the one who dared clamber to the crate below Aaron in order to yell up to him. “Are you insane?”
Aaron’s smile made Tsy’Lo shudder, as it was the same one he had given as he had explained his idea to the Gardener Queen. The human stepped forward to stand at the front of the stall roof. “I declared war on the Gardeners. The war lasted seven Earth minutes, and was quickly resolved when the Queen surrendered to me in person.”
Silence fell once again, and Aaron found himself half-yearning for the sound of crickets to emphasize the moment.
The crowd erupted once more, outrage at the ridiculous claims the strange alien was spewing forth. Tsy’Lo released a deafeningly loud harmonic whistle which was followed by another momentary quiet. They paled as the crowd's attention fell on them. “You need to listen, all of you. He is speaking the truth, sort of. He held the Queen and the Gardeners council hostage with a bomb.” Small grey particles filled the Tricinic at the memory of being used as a weapon. The crowd began to grow rowdy at this news, causing Tsy’Lo to let off another sonic blast. “It is all a human trick; once we are part of his alliance we fall under the treaties he already has in place.”
The crowd looked back up to the human. “Like I said, congratulations. You just walked in through the backdoor of a peace treaty with the Galactic Federation, and over a dozen separate treaties with other races.”
The crowd were now arguing amongst themselves. The official - who Aaron was now mentally calling Gobshite - once again challenged him. “At what cost, though? What do you get out of this?”
The smile of mischief once more graced the human’s lips and Tsy’Lo considered pulling him down from his stage. They had been on their way to the border when news of the riots on Toivoa reached them. Aaron’s presence had been demanded and he had happily accepted. The human looked almost as gleeful as that moment of acceptance when he spoke again. “Me? I get to go home. I get friends with big sticks. I get to trade openly with you, and believe me, I have a lot of crap to sell you.” He chuckled. “You get to be part of the galaxy again. You get to travel and trade. Our rules are simple and fair; everyone is equal under the law. You have exactly the same rights as everyone else who joined us. And the cost?” He paused for effect, making sure they were all paying attention. “You stand on your own two feet.” He glanced around, noting the sheer diversity of the crowd. “Or one foot... or four... Or whatever it is you’re balancing on.”
The crowd was a buzz of conversation, and Gobshite once again chimed in. “You think they’ll let us back without a fight? We can expose them! Those bastards tried to exterminate us!”
The crowd jeered along with the old Procyon. Aaron held up his hands. “Woah, woah. Only some of them. That’s the thing, there are a lot more members now. So here’s the plan: shut up. If you don’t say anything, they sure as shit aren’t going to out themselves, are they? While everyone is staring at the former Hive terror that they all feared, you guys just start working and trading, nice and quiet.”
A few murmurs of agreement came from the crowd. Gobshite, however, was more than a murmur. “You want us to forget our ancestors suffering?”
A little irritated, Aaron was more harsh than he intended. “You’ve wallowed in it long enough. Look at you, hiding for generations, keeping your communications to a minimum to avoid detection. Is this all some master plan as you build an army to seek revenge? Fuck no!” He saw the shame on their faces. “You’re happy to leave this status quo to future generations? You want to remember the suffering of your ancestors, fine, build a fucking statue. But don’t hold back your children to do it.”
The crowd were growing louder again as they discussed his words. “Look!” the human yelled. “I’m not saying you forget, or forgive. I’m saying you keep your mouths shut. We won’t announce your presence to the Federation. Instead, I want those of you looking to start something new to come join the new colonies. No big fanfares, just get on with it. In a place filled with different races, you’ll just be another stranger.”
He saw the crowd looking at each other, and knew was a lot to take in all at once. “We gather evidence, build trust. Get yourselves established, forge friendships and alliances, and become accepted as part of the new colonies. Let those in the know think their past crimes are forgotten. And when we are ready, we burn down their false history and anyone who tries to defend it!”
The crowd cheered once more, and Aaron smiled triumphantly down at Tsy'Lo as he leapt casually from the roof. As he landed, many hands patted his back and many questions were yelled, but it all ceased as one of the Gardeners stepped forward. It was Eridor, as there was no mistaking the red cape he wore. "We need to leave, the Federation have entered our space.”
Next

I've Found 929 Discs Over 4 Years - Here's Some Data!

Over the last 4 years I’ve collected data on the discs I’ve found, broken it down into chunks and trends I thought were interesting, and shared it with the community. Previous year’s posts can be found 2019 Post and 2020 Post.
This post deals with averages for the entire data set collected over the years. There are some comparisons from the previous years’ averages just for giggles here and there but if you’re looking for trends by comparing old posts you’ll need to remember that all of the data keeps getting rolled over into a larger and larger aggregate. I do plan on breaking finds down by year as well as location in future posts. Lots of neat data so may as well play with it, right?
I’ve explained my data collection a bit more near the end of this post. If you notice some math and number discrepancies, it’s likely due to rounding or an incomplete data set. Or maybe it’s just me.
As is tradition, I’d like you to ask yourself some questions about found discs. Take a guess, maybe ask your buddies what they think, and see how close you get to the actual data. Put a couple of bucks on it if that’s your thing. I’ll give you a little location context so you know what you’re working with.

Where were these discs found?
Basket - 2
Brush - 9
Fairway - 43
Marsh/Mud - 17
Woods - 91
On Ice - 7
Roof - 2
Water - 429
SCUBA - 323

Summarized into some cleaner percentages:
Water - 81%
Land - 19%

I’ll talk about some thoughts on the locations a bit later. I split Water and SCUBA in the table even though there’s some overlap. If a disc was listed as found in the water, it was recovered either using a retriever or wading. SCUBA is self explanatory. While there are no doubt some SCUBA discs that were found close enough to shore for wading, these were generally deeper and more inaccessible for somebody out just playing.

Here are your questions.
1. How many discs were marked with a name and number?
2. What’s my disc return rate?
3. What brand/manufacturer was lost most frequently?
4. What speed of disc was lost most frequently?
5. What color of disc was lost most frequently?
6. What type of plastic was lost most frequently?
7. What molds were most commonly lost?

I don’t recommend scrolling down much more prior to taking your guesses.

1. How many discs were marked with a name and number?
This, along with return rate, was actually one of the pieces of information I wanted to know about when I first started thinking about the discs we were finding. It’s certainly a populacontroversial topic on discgolf.

Discs marked with number: 47%
Unmarked discs: 51%
Marked, but no number: 2%

So basically half of the discs I find are uninked. That number has fluctuated a bit over the years by a % or two but has really been consistent. The marked but no number discs usually have a PDGA #, but sometimes it’s just a name. In retrospect, I wish I kept track of how many times a bad number was present on the disc but oh well, that ship has sailed.

2. What is my disc return rate?

Total Return Rate (All Discs): 30%
Total Return Rate (Marked Discs Only): 65%
Total Return Rate (Unmarked Discs): 9%

We text the numbers on the discs we find. Ideally we get it done immediately when we find it as it makes meet-ups easier, but sometimes they’re too dirty and need a good scrubbing before we can read the number. If the text doesn’t work, they get a call. We also scan the local league page, which has a running lost disc thread, and see if we recognize anything. From there we either meet up at a course, arrange a drop-off location like under a trash can, or give it to a league person that can run the disc to its owner. We increased our efforts quite a bit to run “iffy” discs back this year. Last year we only bothered with numbered discs. This year we tried to run back pretty much everything. There’s a story behind it but figured I wouldn’t clutter up a data post too much.
There’s actually a lot to unpack with these numbers. For example, 65% of marked discs are returned. Seems kind of low, right? But many of those owners tell us to keep the disc. My numbers on this data isn’t great as I only kept track of it this last year, but I have records of being told to keep a found disc 49 times - that’s 12% of marked discs. If we consider those discs “returned”, our rate goes up to 77%. Those numbers are low - I’m guessing if I had kept better records of “keep its” it would bring us closer to 80% but that’s speculation.
Additionally, my buddy has a duffle bag of marked discs waiting to be returned sitting in his car. There’s 35 of them in there that have had positive contacts and are pending being returned. That’s another 9% if they ever get around to trying to get their stuff back (I know, it’s COVID, we’re trying to be understanding - most of these discs have been in there for months though). Anyway, moral of the story? 86% of marked discs are “accounted” for per their owners wishes and a good chunk of the 14% that’s left just had bad numbers. Others never get back to us and a few drop off the face of the earth after replying once or twice. A couple of times the owner had passed. It’s an unusual feeling when you find one of their discs.
That still leaves us with a lot of unmarked discs. This year we got a small chunk (9% of all unmarked discs, 4% of total discs found) of them returned. Part of it was coordination with the local league. Part of it was just conversation with other players on the course. My buddy is a talker and likes meeting people. One of the first things he asks is if they’ve played a given course before and if they’ve lost anything. Surprisingly, we’ve returned quite a few discs from these conversations.
What do we do with all the unreturned discs? After a few weeks I suppose we take ownership of them and do what we want. Usually we end up giving them away. We adore giving families and groups that are just starting piles of discs. One of the new things we picked up doing this year is making people whole when they’ve lost a disc. Sometimes we haven’t found the specific disc somebody lost but have an identical(ish) unmarked, unwanted, or unclaimed mold that we found that we can give them as a replacement. Sometimes we’ll sell a batch off if we’re getting ridiculous on storage. Helps pay for gear and gas and keeps the clutter down. It’s pretty rare we need to do that though - we’d rather give them to new players but that becomes a tricky proposition with the high speed stuff. A few we’ll keep and bag ourselves, but it’s pretty rare beyond maybe just trying a new mold out for a round or three.

3. What brand/manufacturer was lost most frequently?

Innova - 46%
Discraft - 23%
Dynamic - 6%
MVP - 6%
Westside - 4%
Latitude 64 - 4%
Axiom - 3%
Prodigy - 2%
DGA - 2%
Discmania - 1%
Streamline <1%
Gateway <1%
Legacy <1%
Vibram <1%
Unknown <1%
Millenium <1%
ESP <1%
Essential <1%
Lightning <1%
Plastic Addicts <1%
Wham-O <1%
Yikun <1%

Innova holds a commanding lead with Discraft being the only other significant contender. Merging companies like Trilogy and the MVP/Axiom/Streamline narrows things a bit, but not much. Last year I chunked the companies together based on who was manufacturing what, but with Discmania shopping around their sourcing I’m no longer certain who’s making what nowadays.

4. What speed of disc was lost most frequently?

2 - 3%
3 - 3%
4 - 4%
5 - 9%
6 - 5%
7 - 5%
8 - 3%
9 - 13%
10 - 7%
11 - 7%
12 - 15%
13 - 20%
14 - 5%
15 <1%

Data was taken from Infinitediscs’s flight information for each disc. I know there’s occasionally discrepancies between them and the manufacturers but I figured it would be best to pull information from one source.

Top 5 lost speeds:
Speed 13 - 20%
Speed 12 - 15%
Speed 9 - 13 %
Speed 5 - 9%
Speed 10 and Speed 11 - 7%

Loss % By Type:
High Speed Drivers (11-14) – 47%
Fairway/Control Drivers (7-10) – 28%
Mids (4-6) – 18%
Putters (1-3) – 6%

As is tradition, the high speed drivers dominate the lost disc category. I’m looking forward to breaking the land and water data apart as nearly all of the water holes I find discs on are under 300’ from tee to basket but hey, people are going to throw what they’re going to throw. It’s also a bit of a nuisance that putters and mids are the least frequently lost but the most useful disc to give to new players. If y’all could start trying to emulate Lizotte with some unmarked putters on water hazards I’d appreciate it. If he can clear nearly 500’ of water, surely you can manage 250’, right? Go for it... cough

5. What color of disc was lost most frequently?

Blue - 18%
Red - 14%
Yellow - 13%
Orange - 12%
Pink - 11%
White - 10%
Black - 9%
Green - 8%
Tye Dye - 4%
Purple - 3%
Gray - 2%
Violet - 2%
Brown, Clear, Copper, Gold, and Peach each represented less than 1% of found discs.

From year to year, the color averages seem to change the most with the exception of blue being on top. One thing I noticed, however, is that I lump all blue discs together regardless of shade while most of the other colors have a “lighter” and “darker” version so that is likely bloating its numbers a bit. I’m not certain why I recorded them that way. Lord knows I got creative with plenty of other shades. For the purpose of simplicity, all discs marked “burgundy, wine, chartreuse, seafoam, turquoise” or any other oddball description got shoved into an arbitrarily “close enough” color category. Apparently some days I must feel poetic while recording these things.

6. What type of plastic was lost most frequently?

Premium Grippy "Star, ESP, Neutron, etc" - 40%
Premium Translucent "Champ, Opto, Z, etc" - 34%
Base - 14%
Pro - 5%
Flexible - 4%
Glow - 2%
Light - 2%

I lumped all the different plastic brands into “close enough” varieties. Flexy, glow, and lightweight discs all got dumped together regardless of what plastic variety they were built into.
I’m guessing a lot of folks thought base plastic would be the most common, but turns out it’s fairly rare in comparison to the premium plastics. I wonder if a lot of it gets retired into peoples’ garages and basements when they decide they like the game and upgrade. Those starter kits have to end up somewhere….

7. What molds were most commonly lost?
As is tradition, I’ll be listing these according to the total number found instead of %. Unfortunately there wasn’t a clean “break” point so I’ll just arbitrarily pick...double digits I guess.

Destroyer - 63
Boss - 26
Katana - 25
Valkyrie - 23
Beast - 20
Wraith - 20
Shryke - 19
Nuke SS - 18
Buzzz - 17
Nuke - 17
Teebird - 16
Firebird - 15
Sidewinder - 15
Leopard - 13
Tern - 13
Vulcan - 13
Sheriff - 12
Avenger SS - 11
Thrasher - 10
Crank - 10
Colossus - 10

Ah, Destroyers - I knew you were the disc we were finding the most of, and every year you prove me right by preposterous ratios. Actually, I’m a bit surprised to see so many Innovas firmly entrenched in the top 10. The list has definitely shifted through the years. Heck, the first year Drones (of all discs) made the top 5. I don’t think I’ve found one since….
Anecdotally, the Kong/Zeus/McBeth Driver just barely missed the list - it’s definitely trying hard to catch up. I have a sneaking suspicion it may actually have made the double digit list but I think two “Prototypes” got marked as Hades due to what the owners indicated they thought they were, but I’m not so sure they weren’t Zeuses. Eh, who knows - we’ll see it on the list next year I’m betting.
For the morbidly curious - there were 118 “Unicorn” discs, of which only one example of that given mold was found. Definitely not bitter about having to look up the flight numbers for every single stinking one of them….
A grand total of 271 different molds were found. 4 discs I was unable to identify - two oddball Innovas that had no markings and I just couldn’t figure out and 2 generic ones that probably came out of a Costco “Frolf” set or something.

And some stats for funsies….
Total discs I’ve found courses on: 23 out of 43 played - or 53% of courses played I’ve found a disc on.
Disc finding rate: 606 discs found over 503 rounds played = 1.2 discs a round
Note: I’ve removed the SCUBA discs from this but there were instances we went out just to wade instead of playing a course so this number is inflated a bit. We do find a lot of discs while playing - 2 or 3 isn’t all that weird. More if we have to go into the water to get one we lose ourselves. Also, this is not accounting for rounds played prior to U-Disc, but I wasn’t finding them at nearly the rate I do now. It’s accurate enough for a hipfire statistic. Most discs found in one day: 73 - SCUBA diving, two tanks of air

Average Discs Found on 1 Tank of Air - 25

u/mechanickzilla made a comment in a recent thread about lugging out a bunch of gear to a pond and searching for hours for 30 discs. It amused me because it sounded right. Turns out to be a pretty darn close estimate! A tank of air lasts roughly an hour. If I average out all SCUBA time it works out to be 25 discs per tank/hour in the water. I did refine my technique from early days and upped my efficiency quite a bit this year - turns out if I bring a salvage bag and don’t rise to toss discs to shore every time my hands were full I get a LOT more search time out of a tank and my average rises to 32 discs per tank, or about a disc every 2 minutes. There is some prep and cleanup time involved so I suppose strictly speaking the rate is lower if I want to account for the entire process instead of just time in the water.

Where discs are being found - 34% on one course, 48% on another, so 82% of discs were found on only two courses.

Most discs returned to one person - I’ve honestly lost count. I know he’s up to 12 or 15 and that’s a conservative estimate.

Most frequently found disc - A blue teebird we’ve returned 4 times. Haven’t seen the previous champion blue Rogue for quite some time. I’ll have to ask the owner what happened to it.

Find anything else interesting?
A half dozen vape pens, a jar of marijuana, 8 golf clubs, hundreds of golf balls, 4 golden retrievers (the disc retriever, not the dog), 3 sunglasses, a couple of cell phones, 3 unopened beers, a couple of rakes, untold millions of towels, a bluetooth speaker, 3 sets of car keys, 1 pair of kid-sized glasses, 5 bicycles, and a rifle case.

About Location
Location turned out to be a bit trickier to classify than I thought and I’ve changed and reclassified things several times now. For a while it was just woods and water, but that really didn’t do a good job of describing finding something on shore or in a basket. Here’s what I ended up with:
Brush - anything not mowed without trees. Includes briars, bushes, and long grass. You’ll notice there are not a lot of these - that’s because I HATE walking through these areas and avoid them. A lot of the ones we found in this condition were there because we were looking for one of our own or we were cleaning up the course and happened to stumble across one while brushwhacking or something. Seriously, long grass is the WORST to look through. I feel for those of you that fight with it and really, really appreciate the courses that cut search paths through it.
Marsh - the swampy, mucky crap that disc golf courses love to get built on because what else are you going to do with the land? Not quite enough to be able to submerge your disc, but plenty soggy enough that you’ll ruin a pair of shoes trying to walk through it. A lot of shore finds were reclassified to this.
Fairway - anything mowed. I’m always surprised at how many discs we find on the fairway. I suspect some of them are blown down from being stuck in trees. Others are no doubt forgotten. A few are probably bad throws that rolled to someplace ridiculous. A lot of times we get these back to groups actively on the course, but a surprising amount of times we don’t.
I think the rest are pretty self-explanatory.

Why? Just...why?
Nearly 1000 entries is a lot to monkey with (believe me, I entered every damned one of them - many of them two or three times as I revised and improved my organization). The data collection started more or less by accident. My buddy and I were playing nearly daily and we were stumbling across a steady stream of discs. We speculated about what disc we were finding the most of (there were three or four reasonable contenders) but really didn’t have firm answers, just hazy recollections and some finger counting.
In an attempt to answer our whimsically discussed question, I dug through my storage bin and counted. That left me with some numbers, but not the whole picture. I realized that there were quite a few discs that we’d returned, given away, or sold over the year prior. Fortunately, I had been in the habit of texting numbers to try and return discs and we both tended to take pictures if we found something on the course to show our friends. I had also started a disc golf journal I was keeping on Google Calendar and, for whatever reason, had been noting when we found a disc on the course. Between that documentation and memory (there were less than a hundred or so discs at the time, so it was easy to remember where I had found a given disc) I was able to put together a fairly decent, but somewhat incomplete, starting point for data. Sometimes data was missing, like color or plastic, but it was something to work with.
I did what I could to keep the data “true” and no doubt neglected to account for some discs simply because I didn’t have documentation for them. I guarantee, for example, some discs were found on the course that were left by the group ahead of us and returned nearly immediately that did not get recorded. I also didn’t record discs lost and found from my own party. When in doubt, I left it out. It means some of my numbers are a bit different from one category to another as well. For example, I may have had documentation on the mold found, but not its color. As I collected the data and put them into an actual spreadsheet (Let me assure you, tracking data in Google Calendar is...not recommended) I realized there was certain data I wanted and began making a concentrated effort to keep track of it. There’s still mistakes and omissions, no doubt, but it should be pretty darn solid.
Is the data good for anything? Hard to say. It’s a significant data pool, but the questions that can be asked of it are not always clear. The reason we find so many Innova discs, for example, is probably not because they are more prone to being lost than other brands, but rather that they are more popular and more thrown, and thus more likely to be lost and found.
Color becomes more tricky - am I finding a lot of blue discs because they are more popular or are they easier to see and thus be found? Discs found with SCUBA are usually felt rather than seen, is there a difference between colors found on land and water?
Finding trends may also be possible. It’s possible to isolate discs found by park per year they were found (heck, down to the date if need be) so perhaps we can find changes from year to year in a given location. It’s something I plan to dig into and post about from time to time.
One area I could use some advice on is classifying discs by stability. The spreadsheet currently includes Speed, Turn, and Fade numbers along with quantity. For each mold of disc. I had planned on identifying discs on stable/neutral/understable but those definitions are not particularly clear. If anybody has thoughts on how this could be organized I’d love to hear them. Right now I’m looking at maybe displacement from 0 or something but I have a hard time calling a -2/2 disc like a Valk “Neutral”. I suppose I could break them down strictly by the listed fade/turn numbers. Shouldn’t be more than a dozen combinations.
Anyway, I suppose there is no “why” other than curiosity and a desire to contribute to the community. I think it’s interesting so I’m posting it. Not going to lie, I like seeing if it’s enough to earn a “Quality Post” tag as well. As bad as a kid with a sticker chart, I swear.
Feel free to ask questions - I do plan on breaking down data by year, location, and stability (once I figure out how to organize it) so there will likely be a few extra posts this year.

How I passed my CISSP in 2021.

The exam was more difficult because of wording than any practice software. What amazes me about the exam is you can know the material and not pass. This may be true for anything, but is especially true about this exam because of the way it's worded .

"Think like a manager?" While this is true, I had at least 50 questions on the exam where NOT thinking like a manager was necessary. Clearly ISC(2) are reading these forums and watching youtube videos ,attempting to improve the exam likely monthly. So, "think like a manager" is often true, but there were several times where the questions required absolute technical knowledge and most importantly "beak/fix" solutions. at least 25 that I recall. I searched for "think like a manager" answers and they simply were not there for those questions. All 4 choices were technical.

Conclusion: "Think like a LAWYER with a technical background" is FAR more appropriate advice. Larry Greenblatt stated this in so many words and he was right. You must think like a lawyer more often than manager and yes, there were absolutely questions where FIXING THE PROBLEM was the correct answer. How do I know this? Because again, the 4 choices were technical in nature/NOT managerial.
2) you have to read the questions and answers twice in most cases, but not all. I cannot tell you how many times I had the right answer the first time, only to change it, then ponder, then change it back. There are in fact 10 straight-forward questions on the exam and these should be answered without thought. I cannot cite examples specifically, but there were at least 5-10 questions that were quite straight forward.
3) my exam had zero math (ALE etc), but I had to know the ALE/SLE/ARO formulas, meanings because these were choices to answer real world scenario problems. No calculations for me were required. They provide a white board and sharpie. I did not use it. The terminal has an electronic calculator as well. I did not use it.
4) I wore ear muffs. I believe this saved me. The testing site provided lawn mower ear protection. I did not know this, but immediately put them on and I feel this saved me for concentrating. do NOT underestimate the level of concentration you will need. There was in fact noise in the room a few times even WITH the hearing protection. That caught me off-guard because the test center emphasized quiet, but I heard people talking several times. Plus, there was construction in the adjacent suite, which was incredible to me. I heard drills etc. while in the waiting area. I am questioning in my mind, "would I have passed this exam without the ear protection?" I am not sure. The isolation made me completely focus on the exam. I could hear my heart beating/racing as well.
5) You can laugh, but practice your questions at home wearing a mask for COVID-19. Years from now, one might read this and laugh. My reading glasses fogged up and the mask got annoying after an hour, trust me. Get used to sitting wearing a mask if you're not already wearing it for your daily work.
6) Sleep the night before. I did not. I was wide awake at midnight, 2 am, 3 am, and finally just gave in and read practice questions. I arrived at the test center absolutely horrified, half asleep, and drinking cold coffee in my vehicle outside. What saved me was listening to Greenblatt's Exam Tips video. I also had watched Cybrary's video on "Think like a manager." You need to think like a lawyer. or a CTO. Not a manager in my opinion. If you happen to report to a CTO, then I guess you can think like YOUR manager.
7) Schedule a test date. Without that, you will NOT have the motivation to study likely. A deadline is absolutely vital to learning the material. Common sense I know.
8) I studied 2-4 hours on weeknights for several months, and SAT and SUN for 6-10 hours for 6 weeks before the exam.
9) What did I study?
--Boson practice questions over and over, but guess what? I read every answer and challenged myself to say why the incorrect answers were incorrect 1x1. So, doing 50 questions often took me 4 hours. Boson's explanations were like reading a study guide, for me. Boson won't work on a mobile device. I wish they would introduce a mobile app! Whomever writes the Boson material did an excellent job. FYI I was told Kaplan is similar, but do not know.
Boson is absolutely amazing because you can tailor your own quiz and plug in a keyword. That was AMAZINGLY helpful to me. I plugged in "Annual Loss" and its engine brought up every question/answer containing ALE questions, some of which were challenging. "Biba" "SOC" "SDLC" etc, etc, etc.. when you get 10-50 questions in a row for the same subject matter, you learn the material. I cannot emphasize enough how this helped me. I did all the questions at least once, but focused more on the answer explanations which are amazingly written. Each answer is explained as to what it is, why it's correct/incorrect and it's brilliantly written. I was scoring 75-85 on all BOSON scores, but did not care. Boson drills deeply, but it shines when it explains answers. I also would ask, "when would this incorrect answer be correct????" and in my mind created new questions tailored against the other answers. This took hours but was worthwhile.
--ISC Pocket prep for mobile--CISSP exam module. I cannot say enough positive things about this app. It's VASTLY under estimated in its importance. Whether in bathroom, coffee shops, or in bed, I did question after question after question. Sometimes, new questions would magically appear as well. I flagged ones that were challenging and that helped. I took "flagged/missed" questions nightly, then added 20-30 more from the entire pool. These questions helped me learn the material and ingrain the integrity models, etc. I do not know why more people don't talk about the pocket prep. I did all 800 questions but again, new questions appeared from time to time. at least twice I did all 800 repeatedly over time until I had things memorized. They claim you should not memorize things for CISSP, but you HAVE to memorize much of the material. Same thing as Boson--I created mental questions against which the incorrect answers at hand would be correct for my new question. Many people are critical of this app, claiming it is not in-depth enough. This may be true, but there is no single study tool that covers all CISSP questions.
--11th Hour. I read it. I did the questions in it, 5 per chapter. This gave a great overview at a high level and is very well written, despite some typos (it happens).
--I tried to read the study guide from Sybex 8th Edition and just could not concentrate. I read the Boson and Pocket prep answer explanations instead.
--I registered my printed copy of Sybex Eighth Edition Practice Questions online and did all the practice questions in quantities of 20. When I'd accumulate 20 questions that I answered incorrectly, I made that a test in and of itself. I took all those questions collectively at least twice. 1,300 questions. One time I did 150 questions, seriously, and the site logged me out(!) and that was at question #143! So, that's why I was more careful and took 20-40 questions at a time thereafter. Imagine losing your score after 143 questions--I was frustrated!!
--I watched every YouTube video I could find. The ones that stood out where Mind Map, which does not get enough credit. This links the material together well. Larry Greenblatt's videos on exam verbiage helped a lot. Kelly from Cybrary was amazing. The IT Dojo videos actually diminished my confidence because they were at times far too technical. The guy on there is amazing and brilliant, but I stopped watch those videos because I told myself I did not have time to get into the weeds at his his level. He's brilliant. so, MindMap, Greenblatt, Kelly from cybrary. Another guy did a video on what to wear, bring, and the training center logistics. That was helpful.
--I signed up/joined Luke Ahmed's Facebook page and looking at people's questions helped me. Joining their conversations helped. I even asked a few questions myself about FRFAR and so on. it was great to bounce off ideas and questions with fellow study people. I bought Luke's book as a favor because I felt bad using his free Facebook site. His book actually helped, but only contains 25 questions. I read it through once and it helped--it's very cheap and short.
Comparitech's summary cheat sheets helped too. I pulled those up 1x1 the night before the exam. Great overview! Google this and you will find their summary PDF sheets. They are more clear than Sunflower, at least for me.
10) Wear something comfortable. You cannot bring any watches, jewelry, keys, not even a handkerchief into the test area. They check your pockets, socks, coin pockets, hair etc.. they looked over my glasses and I sanitized my hands at least 30 times while there at their request.
I brought a passport and driver license. You have a vascular scan (palm vein scan) 3x per hand out front, then they check it again in back, hand sanitizer between each scan! Obviously this varies by region. I am being told there will likely be remote-from-home testing allowed soon. I think for me that would be too distracting.
When you take the test, you have two things with you beside the clothes on your back. Your driver license and your locker key. Place those on the desk to your left or right and forget about them during the test.
The room was warm, for me. I wore a short sleeve shirt, jeans, socks, tennis shoes. Yes, they checked my ankles and made me frisk myself. That was fine by me.
11) do not panic during the test. I did. Once I hit question 80 and realized I had maybe an hour remaining, I panicked. I told myself "you've got this. you did not study all this time to let this go down the drain." I got angry. I motivated myself to say, "don't let them get the best of you." if getting mad motivates you, then get mad. Whatever it takes, within reason, do it. whether it is a superstition or whatever the case is, do it. akin to a hockey player that has a ritual before a game. Do it. Get mad, get motivated. I asked for strength, admitting how petty I was being when people are starving.
when I hit question 101, I panicked again.. "oh crap, I did not pass the exam at 100 questions. What did I get wrong? How long is this going to be???????"
I kept going. I had the same thought at 130, 135 ,136, 140, by 149 I was absolutely panicked beyond belief. At 150, with 1.5 minutes remaining, I submitted my final answer. At that point I was shattered. I acknowledged the test was done and clicked a button formally closing the test electronically. "How am I going to face my boss.. what do I tell my spouse?? the schedule for exams is so booked now............. it's going to take months to reschedule my 2nd attempt and I have to keep studying!!!!??? what am I going to do??" ( I had, several times, tired to make adjust my CISSP test date to an EARLIER date, and saw dates were not available for months and months--I was fortunate to have even gotten the date I did because of center limited capacity--Covid-19).
I was firmly convinced because I hit #150 that I 'd not passed the exam. FIRMLY. I told the test center lady, "there's no way I passed this one. I hit question 150..." her reply was, "not necessarily true, there are people that ALWAYS get 150 no matter what. please go to the lobby and get your belongings from the locker." I did just that. I went to the locker.
FYI you do not get your test results until you walk out, get your stuff from the locker, then go back to the desk out front. In the lobby I mean--this is the same with COMPTIA tests etc. The lady, out front, not the lady from the testing area, gave me a sheet face down. I slowly took it and was nervous. I turned it over and first saw the word, "congratulations...." I did a double take. I then even put on my glasses to actually read it and make sure it was correct--"Can this be right?" I asked her, "is this real? it's my picture.. " I knew I had completed many questions knowingly, but there were so many others where I simply picked 1 of the 3-4 "best" correct answers.
She laughed and said, "yes, that is you, you passed."
I teared up. Adrenaline. All that studying.. all that anger during the test, the panic, the questions where I was not all sure I had a clue.. all morphed into a single moment. I told her I could hug her. She got up to hug me, no joke. it was a profound moment in my life to pass this exam. I thought because I had "all 150" questions I did not pass.
Everyone at my work bragged about passing at question 105, 100, 110.. their exam ended at those quantities of questions. This lobby lady again explained what the other person had, that there are many people that get ALL 150. I do not know why I got 150. What matters is I passed. so, do NOT listen to people touting the exam ending "early." You cannot be concerned with this potential or variable. It really caused me a lot of anxiety and it was pointless (my fault admittedly).
There were numerous questions where I was partially certain I had the right answer. And others where I knew I was correct, but those were 20 or less questions. I am not trying to scare anyone. I am saying what people say is true: some questions have 2-4 "correct" answers. You must choose the best one, or perhaps an answer that comprises the other correct choices. It's common sense in some cases, but not others. "Is this one of those 25 that don't count?" etc. I'd ask. 25 exam questions do NOT count against your score and I presume all 25 are in the 1-100 question range. These are valid questions being tested for future exam inclusion, I am told (again, they don't count against your score but you won't know which these are).
12) There were several questions where I had the right answer in my mind but the selection was not available on the test. This means they (ISC) substituted common CISSP terminology for "street terminology." I chose the street term which was most like the CISSP term (and still wasn't sure). This happened at least 5-10 times out of 150 questions. an example of this might be "...make sure a user value is valid.." "What do they mean by this," I asked? who is the user? a Customer? What value are they inputting... ahah!!! I just said the word, "input!!" INPUT. I know what they are asking, now. I chose the answer that was most like "input validation." I am making this as an example. I cannot even recall specifics, but it happened.
13) the exam is unlike any practice questions. I am not kidding. There were times I read a question 4x and I could not understand exactly what was being asked. I re wrote those questions in my mind and sifted out the unnecessary items in my mind. That helped. Other times, I had to look at the answer selections to ascertain what was being asked. None of the practice questions are like this, not even Boson--yet the questions are still often "high level" in nature. Many times 3 answers were correct. Sometimes, all 4 were correct. "most right," "least likely" etc. I think there were a few questions that asked "which is not the least likely to..." Re word those phrases into "Which IS MOST LIKELY to....." common sense, but in the middle an exam, it can be tough to talk like this silently. Talk the questions through in your head. Remove "that" and other unnecessary words. When the test reads, "A person in charge of" mentally say "manager," and so on. Substitute words in your mind to which you can relate, aloud within your head. I feel the practice questions train your mind to rewrite questions quietly, mentally.
14) the exam is a test of endurance, street smarts, and while you must know the material well, I feel you must be able to adapt to the exam's terminology. I get the impressions doctors and lawyers write this exam--NOT managers (I am told it's actually CISSP-endorsed members that write the questions, but we'll never fully know). perhaps Compliance writers construct the exam, but I actually got a medical vibe from the exam in terms of how scenarios were presented. You cannot worry about this beforehand. You simply have to be somewhat solid in the technical material in order to adapt that knowledge to the exam questions at hand.
This is the brilliance of this exam. It would not be worthwhile were it easy. Remember this. Plus knowledge is the reward. I said this numerous times as I panicked before/during the exam--"knowledge is the reward."
15) this exam will ensure you relate technical items to non-technical people and vice versa. This point goes largely unnoticed and unreported. it's the real purpose of the exam, to me. They know you've studied. Now, they want to know if YOU can relate the material not only to the "best" answer, but to perhaps executive management at a company. Can you decode information to get the real story? Can you present these concepts to multiple audiences and be relatable? That's why the exam exists, to me, besides learning the material.
I wish everyone well that read through my long post. I cannot emphasize enough how you can be your own worst enemy mentally, or I can, and there were several times during the exam where I was overcome with emotion and just fretting. It did not help me to be like that. At one point, I thought I was going to pass out, not kidding. This takes a physical toll while you're seated. It's needless.
Just remember no one dies. You're not a doctor performing a medical procedure. You can take the exam again, but why would you want to do such a thing? Let that be your motivation during the exam to patiently read the questions over and over. I read every question twice, and most answers twice. I talked to people that failed the exam and are re-taking it again. They are actually some of the best people in their fields, not kidding. Focus on each question 1x1 of course. But again, I started to watch the clock and picked up my pace around question 80.
Also, pick an answer immediately, while you read them all too. This means you suspect a choice is right.. but you go downward to read them all. There were times this helped me immensely. If B appeared correct right away, but A did not, I clicked on B and continued down to C, then D. Until you click NEXT you can change your answer at will. More often than not, I believe my first choice was correct, but there were times I changed my first selection. At least choose something via elimination process as you commence, then finalize the review of answers. Clicking a choice keeps you physically engaged. There were times I went back to the question and individually weighed each answer against the question asking, "What is being requested--a process? a person? a fix?" I deliberated but I still always selected an answer beforehand WITHOUT clicking next. "ok, here's what you chose.. does this suffice and accommodate the question.. no? .. Yes? what else is better?"
by clicking an answer immediately, I created a baseline that could change within each question. If the question was straight forward, I did not deliberate. I selected my choice and moved on--I especially had to do this after 120 questions, as time was running out. Some questions took 10 minutes. Others took 10 seconds (those were scarce).
Electronically sign the NDA IMMEDIATELY. If you do not sign within 5 minutes, you forfeit the test/fee. Sit down, read it over, sign it. Click next. There was a screen that read, "you are about to begin the test. Click _____ to begin." I did. and the clock in right corner started.
If you must get up, raise your hand before doing so. Do not exit your desk at any time for any reason without raising your hand. They will come and get you (at my exam's end I gave up after having my hand raised for 2+minutes--I literally walked to the door and the lady did not like that--I told her I had raised my hand and she was maybe engrossed in her work and did not notice--I was nothing but cordial, but admitted to her I sat there with my hand raised in the room. She said I should have knocked on the wall, but I told her I did not want to disturb people in the room by knocking and she agreed that would be bad-- and she laughed--she made me walk back in the room, checked the terminal and saw I had indeed closed the test. When you complete the test, you of course click a button acknowledging you have completed the test. You cannot go back and change answers/re-read questions at any time, but they obviously want test takers to "complete" the test (at end) electronically for security purposes. I apologized again for walking and reiterated why I had walked.
I cannot think of anything else. Just study. You can do this. There is no magical solution other than to drill this material into your head. It takes time and many people will have different methods. I did watch a few Cybrary videos as my work paid for them, but frankly, those were less effective than Boson/Pocket prep/sybex online questions/YouTube/11th Hour. I could not concentrate reading the 8th Edition, as stated above. You can in fact make any method of study last a year if you weigh every single answer and create new mental questions against each answer.
Thanks for reading. Sorry I went on and on. I wish you all well and will tell you this exam is passable. You just have to think like a lawyer or CTO, but you must know how to fix problems too. It's not one vs the other. I've worked in telecommunications (LEC/internet/voice/video/SIP/ATM/MPLS/cloud/co-lo data center sales, business analyst, sales engineering) for 20 years. Security for 5 years overall. I have Network+, SIP SSCA, and loads of hands-on Avaya, SONUS, Lucent 5E, wiring experience, data center generator training as well.
I also had unplanned outpatient surgery on nose a few weeks before exam (MOHS). That was a pain because I had to wear bandages and get stitches etc. It all came together and worked out well, but looking back it was amazingly busy and hectic.
--Alex

P.S. Throttling. The test undoubtedly adaptively throttles up and down to accommodate your knowledge. I could see easy questions, then hard questions, then harder questions. Some were long, others were very short. I am betting there is a repository of 50,000+ questions and they cycle through these by user. There is no way two users will get the same exam twice, etc. I even got paranoid... "why am I getting another SDLC question??? Does this mean I got that other SDLC one wrong 10 questions back????" You cannot afford to think like that. I have talked to enough people that get loads of BCP questions and zero SDLC, or Risk TCO, etc, to realize the exam likely randomly targets subject matters. There likely is no pattern all the time, but the exam is trying to adapt to your knowledge (neural). It was like a roller coaster but you just focus 1x1 and try not to think about it. One blessing is once you submit an answer, you cannot go back. In some weird way, that presents a finality. Otherwise, with the way this exam is worded, you may go back , etc and run out of time. It is an absolute blessing you can't go back. I have talked to people whom completed the 6-hour test with a pen/paper in past and have re-taken the new format. The consensus from them is the new questions/adaptive are "harder" much "more grey" despite being lower in quantity.
While one should be proud of passing the CISSP, I don't think anyone should gloat. I was (and am) very careful to be humble, especially at the training center in the parking lot where I saw people looking dejected (I am not sure what exams they'd taken, but still understand the emotional roller coaster tests can present).
I still have much to learn, but cannot deny I worked very hard studying for this exam. I will reiterate some of the top Security persons I know, with decades of experience, struggled with the exam and did not pass on first attempts. Those people are in high level engineering, management, SIEM support, and executive roles. What I adore about those people is they are transparent enough to share their honest experiences about why they think they did not pass, and how they passed on further attempts. they helped me. I also talked to several people that found the exam quite easy and those people were shocked others have so many issues. I find these people to be sincere, not conceited, but more "mechanical" in nature in terms of being able to write processes, policies, conduct independent audits, develop BCPs, and so on. Those groups did not struggle with this exam, but admitted it was a grueling exam experience and they too studied, just did not stress perhaps. One such person is a professional aircraft mechanic and he, for his current living, reads manuals while repairing planes for corporate and private flights--he has a Masters in aerospace and years of software development experience atop being an aircraft mechanic--he thought the exam was very straightforward. It's amazing to hear from so many people from so many areas studying and taking this test. I wish everyone well and thank you again for reading this

Atlantic City Trip Report 2/4-2/6 (my biggest AC win yet)

I keep getting invited to this church called The Enlightened. They won't leave me alone.

I feel like I’m going crazy. I’m paranoid, I can’t sleep, I can’t stand this anymore. I need to tell someone what’s going on.
It started last month, when I was walking to the bus stop to get to work. I don’t drive, not since my car accident about two summers ago. Car got totaled and getting a new one just wasn’t in the cards. Since there was a bus stop less than a mile from my apartment anyway, what was the big deal?
I wouldn’t have run into them if I did have a car though.
A pair of guys were at the stop. Both were probably around my age, both were clean cut, wearing white button ups and ties, and both wore matching blue disposable face masks. One of them was tall and scrawny, a toothpick of a guy, a bag full of papers slung over his shoulder. The other wore glasses and was about my height, and uh, let’s just say I’m not exactly a tall lady, and he was trying to hand out said papers… which were so clearly religious pamphlets.
I thanked Christ my bus was pulling up right then. Jehovah’s Witnesses are a menace. The shorter guy cleared his throat as I passed and was likely about to start his spiel. I cut him off with ‘I have to get on this bus’ before he could even get started. I was not in the mood, I had things to do and I did not want to get preached at.
I practically forgot about them by the time I got to work anyway. I cracked a few jokes about it to my coworkers, we laughed, then we got our heads down and went to work. Wasn’t worth the second thought. By the time I clocked out and got on the bus to go home, I was thinking about dinner and how to extend my groceries a little longer so I could save up for a new laptop.
I couldn’t believe my eyes when I got off the bus and those two guys were still there. Tall guy with his bag of pamphlets, shorter guy trying to strike up a conversation with less than interested people passing by. Even if they were still the same guys, I could tell they were disheartened. The tall guy was starting to nod off from where he sat on the bench and even the upbeat short guy was losing steam. I got off the bus just in time to hear a passerby tell him to fuck off and the poor short guy looked like a kicked puppy. I’d bet twenty bucks they hadn’t given away a single pamphlet all day.
“Excuse me, miss?”
I felt bad for them, even if I find what they were doing completely obnoxious. So I slowed down.
“Yeah?”
The short guy’s eyes went wide. I thought it was because he was shook someone actually stopped but it was actually for something else.
“Hey, you passed by this morning!” He reached up and tapped his mask. “I recognize the cats on your face mask. I remember thinking how cute they were.”
I laughed weakly before glancing at him and his buddy. “Have you seriously been here all day?” I asked.
“Yeeeaaahhh… keep telling the minister that we’d probably get better success stories if we weren’t in these monkey suits,” The guy pulled at his shirt collar and mock gagged, “Everyone just thinks we’re Mormons or Jehovah’s Witnesses.”
“Wait, you’re not?” I blurted out. I couldn’t help it, but can you blame me?
The guy chuckled, the area by his eyes crinkling as he no doubt was smiling. “Hell no. We’re a bit different. Hey, it’s about time to give up for the day. Peter and I are gonna go grab a coffee, how do you take yours?”
I snorted. “Just because I’m being nice doesn’t mean I’m gonna listen to whatever crap you want to tell me,” I said.
“If you don’t tell me, I’m just gonna get you a caramel macchiato.”
I sputtered for a moment while Peter gathered up his bag of pamphlets. The short guy held out his hand.
“I’m Sam. Do you want a caramel macchiato or not?”
In the end, I accepted the free drink. It was cold, I didn’t want to seem like a jerk, and I enjoyed it outside with the pair of weird street preachers. Now that they were done with their thing, both had immediately relaxed their wardrobe. Both had ditched their ties, Peter had pushed up his sleeves to show off a fantastic flower themed sleeve tattoo on his right arm, and Sam had untucked a necklace from his shirt that had a bunch of little strange silver charms on it.
Sam sipped at his latte while we made polite conversation. Turned out Peter wasn’t really the chatty type, only offering a ‘mmhmm’ and ‘sure’ every now and then to the conversation, but Sam was the one carrying the conversation. He had to take off the mask to enjoy his drink and he was actually kinda cute, completely inoffensive appearing human being. We didn’t talk religion. We just talked about our days, what we do when we’re not at work or preaching to uninterested people on sidewalks, and by the end of it I figured they weren’t so bad. I only took a pamphlet after Peter offered one the second time, turned out Sam wasn’t the only one who could look like a kicked puppy. I left figuring I’d never see them again, that this was just a funny little coincidence and it’d make a great story.
Now I can’t help but wonder if they had stayed at the bus stop waiting just for me to come back.
The next day I was heading back from work when I heard someone call my name.
“Amy! Amy, wait up!”
It was just Sam, now dressed down in a t-shirt and jeans, still wearing that goofy charm necklace but now wearing a neat custom face mask with little skulls dotted all over it. Under his arm he was lugging along a laptop. I stopped and he caught up, a little bounce in his step as he pulled his mask down to reveal his beaming smile.
He raised the laptop up to me. “For you,” He said.
I stammered and immediately went to reject it. “I can’t accept this-”
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Sam laughed, “When you said yesterday you were trying to be a writer but your laptop wouldn’t stop freezing when you tried to do anything on it, I remembered I had my old laptop just chilling in my closet. So what the hell, better put it to better use, right? If it makes you feel better, consider it a loaner until you get one for yourself.” Once again, he presented it.
I won’t say it was like brand new, but it was clearly bought within the last two years. And man, a free laptop. I chewed the inside of my lip before I slowly reached up to take it. “It’s a loaner, then. It’s yours when I get my own. How often do you get new laptops?” I asked.
“Practically every other year,” Sam grinned sheepishly, “I play a lot of video games, and I always want the best. I can afford it.”
“Didn’t think that giving out Jehovah’s Witness pamphlets paid that much,” I said as I continued to examine the laptop.
“Funny,” Sam scoffed. “You didn’t even read that pamphlet, did you?”
I knew I was blushing, I always do when I’m embarrassed. Sam, thankfully, didn’t seem all that offended. “It’s cool. I know you were trying to be polite. I won’t tell Peter, but if you ever see him again, he’ll totally figure out you didn’t. And he’ll be grumpy. He’s pretty passionate about this sorta thing, you know?”
I sighed. “Fine, I’ll read it once I’m home.”
“Great! I gotta get going,” Sam rolled his eyes, “Pamphlets to give out, people to talk to. Ta for now!” With that, he pulled his mask back up and hurried back the direction he came from.
I took my new treasure home and almost immediately booted it up. It ran like a dream compared to my old computer. I was thrilled to bits and resolved to read that pamphlet while I worked on dinner, as my thank you to these pair of weird street preachers.
The pamphlet itself wasn’t too bad. It was white, with a black clip art oil lamp on the front and Times New Roman font reading ‘The Enlightened’. Inside was more basic clip art of people holding hands and it really just gave off the really basic feeling of community and raising each other up. The first line read ‘The age of enlightenment is upon us. The reason behind everything exists with us.’ Sure, I laughed, that sounded cheesy as hell. But I read the whole thing, and it didn’t seem all that nutty off the bat. The whole message can be summed up as how we’re here to lift each other up in this world and that should be our goal in life.
I had just finished boiling the noodles for my spaghetti when I heard a knock at my door. I didn’t think much of it, wondering if it was just a late package as I headed for the door.
I opened the door and there they were. Sam and Peter, back in their clean white shirts and ties, Sam raising his hand to knock again.
We both froze. Sam’s eyes bugged out before he chuckled. “Huh. Funny coincidence. Hi, Amy!”
I cleared my throat. “Hi… how did you find out where I lived?” Get that question out first.
“We didn’t,” Sam shook his head, “We’re just going door to door to see if we can get more pamphlets out and if anyone that took one has any questions. Did you read it?”
He sounded honest, completely innocent of anything creepy. I glanced around the door to make sure there wasn’t about to be like a mob coming in to murder me and steal my stuff. “Yeah, while I was cooking dinner. It’s… interesting?”
I could tell both guys were smiling. Sam pulled his mask down. “Then can we come in? We’ve been already going door to door for like an hour, and we’re supposed to be out until eight. Love to kill some time just chilling with a friend.”
I don’t know why I didn’t say no. They were near strangers. Maybe I felt obligated because of the coffee and the computer to at least give them some of my spaghetti, let them do their little ‘come to god’ thing before finding a way to shoo them out the door.
Honestly? I would’ve taken Jehovah’s Witnesses over this. This was on the same level as Scientology for me, as in it was completely freaking batshit insane.
The Enlightened aren’t a Christian sect, Sam explained as we ate dinner and I tried to remain as open minded as I physically could. They worshiped the Beings, well, not really worshiped. Peter cut in to say it’s more like they respected the Beings, relied on them for guidance. The Beings were here before humans were, and oh, how did humans get here? They were originally fish swimming through space, finally coming to earth and evolving into life as we know it.
Oh, and apparently, the sun is apparently a portal to hell. No. I’m not shitting you. The sun. Is a portal. To hell. It took literally all of my restraint not to bust out laughing at that point. I would’ve thought they were pulling my leg if Sam hadn’t said it all so calmly and matter-of-factly. By the end of our meal, I almost gave Sam his laptop back. This was absolutely ridiculous and I wanted no part of these crazy people.
But before they left, Peter took my hand. He didn’t even ask.
“The Being I rely on most is called Yehunee,” He said, which was the longest sentence he’d said all night, “She can see the future. I’d like to see your future.”
I tried jerking my hand back but Peter had a firm grip. My heart started to pound a bit and I started thinking of how stupid it was to let two strange men into my place when Sam grabbed Peter’s arm.
“Peter, let her go, you’re freaking her out.”
Peter released me before Sam turned to me. “I’m sorry, he was a raised Enlightened and I swear that broke his brain from common sense. Just let him do the reading, it’ll be like a minute, and then we’ll go. We hope to hit a few more doors tonight.”
I sighed. If this was the best way to get them out of here, so be it. I gave Peter my hand back and he stared at my palm so intently it made me want to squirm. I almost expected him to start speaking in tongues.
“… Don’t be afraid of strangers, they’ll mean well and be there for you when you’re in a bind. You’ll find what you love doing is not only an option but a profitable one as well. Look out for hooligans, they won’t try to hurt you but they won’t know their own strength. And by the end of the week, you’ll need your love to keep you going.”
Peter finally released my hand and I sighed with relief. “Right, so you said you had to be going?” I said, practically jogging to the door to escort them out.
“Yup! Thanks for letting us take a break tonight!” Sam grabbed his face mask and headed out, Peter right behind him. “Hope to see you again sometime!”
When I closed the door behind them, I was already thinking about how to get to work without going to that specific bus stop. Thanks, but no thanks.
It was just too uncanny that the next day Peter’s prophecies began to fulfill themselves.
I was picking up my groceries, since I no longer needed to get a laptop I splurged a little, got a few wants along with all my needs. For me that made it all the more humiliating when I reached for my wallet and it wasn’t there.
My face turned tomato red as I dug through my purse before checking all of my pockets, the girl at the register looking less and less impressed by my insistence that it ‘had to be here somewhere’. I wanted to melt into the floor when I confirmed that somehow, one way or another, I’d lost my wallet. God. Damn. It. I could just feel the judgment from everyone witnessing this.
Then I felt someone tap my shoulder and I turned to see the elderly woman in a nice red coat who had been in the line right behind me. I opened my mouth to apologize and she held up a hand. Then she looked at the cashier.
“May I pay for this girl’s groceries?”
I nearly started crying. I almost told her to not bother, but something stopped me. And that something was Peter’s freaking voice in my head saying ‘Don’t be afraid of strangers, they’ll mean well and be there for you when you’re in a bind.’ So instead I thanked her, again and again, while she laughed and said it was hardly a big deal. In this world we’re here to look out for each other, after all.
I didn’t notice until I was about to walk away that this woman had a few pins in the lapel of her coat. The two that stuck out the most were a small fish and a lamp. An oil lamp.
I just thanked her once more before I excused myself out of there. It was a coincidence, of course. I knew of a few Christians that also used fish as a religious symbol, same with the lamp. It was just bizarre.
It was when I was heading home that I got the sudden impression that I needed to duck. I practically dove to the ground, and it was lucky for me that I did that. A glass bottle flew through the air right where my head had been, shattering on the wall behind me. It had come from a black car whizzing by, and judging by how loud and rowdy they sounded, they were probably drunk and just having a good time. The car sped down the street and rounded the corner with a screech of the tires. Like that, they were gone, off to keep on partying and doing whatever a bunch of drunk morons do on a weekday.
‘Look out for hooligans, they won’t try to hurt you but they won’t know their own strength.’
My skin, I swear it crawled as I remember Peter’s third prophecy. I reminded myself that there was just no way he could tell the future. It was just a bizarre coincidence.
I got home, I made dinner, and I crawled into bed.
The next morning I woke up to several missed calls from my boss. He was so apologetic, but it was an emergency, and he recommended I turn on the local news for the full effect.
I won’t be too specific where I work, because I don’t know who’s reading this, but where I had worked had burnt to the ground. It looked like faulty wiring had just taken the building down, thank god no one had been inside when it ignited. But because the kind of work I typically do isn’t really one you can do from home, I was now out of work.
‘By the end of the week, you’ll need your love to keep you going.’
My head swam as I instinctively headed for my new laptop and started scrolling through my email, looking through all the writing jobs that I had been wanting to apply for but never had the time for. Submissions for magazines or anthologies, things like that. I wanted to test something and that something was Peter’s only unfulfilled prophecy.
‘You’ll find what you love doing is not only an option but a profitable one as well.’
Sure enough, by some miracle or whatever, I got an email back from one of the jobs I threw my name in the hat for. They liked what I had to offer and were going to pay me double the rate if I could it done by the end of the week. Which I could, because I had a lot of sudden free time.
Every single prophecy. Every single freaking one. Just as Peter had told.
But I couldn’t shake this nagging feeling that these prophecies were self fulfilling. I felt like I was being played with, and I wasn’t going to accept this at face value.
So. I started by googling the name of the editor of the magazine that had offered me the job. He was pretty internet absent shockingly enough, but I found his Facebook page. It was practically vacant, except for two things-
He was friends with the old lady from the grocery store and a Samuel Sutton. And the one thing he’d liked was The Enlightened Facebook group.
Samuel Sutton didn’t have a picture on his Facebook profile that was of his face, but I recognized the charm necklace he was putting together in one of the public photos. Sadly, The Enlightened Facebook group was not public, at least it wasn’t now. Maybe it had been in the past. I don’t know. Either way I was definitely spooked. I knew I was right to be suspicious.
Of course this is when my internet started cutting in and out on my laptop, making further research from there damn near impossible. So the rest had to be done from my phone, all while I side eyed the innocuous laptop from where it sat on the table, the webcam now covered with duct tape.
I didn’t have any scotch tape and I was starting to feel rightfully paranoid.
I googled The Enlightened and didn’t come up with much other than a webpage clearly designed in the 90’s. I scrolled through the bad website design and I came up with basically nothing new, other than the Enlightened were founded in the late seventies by a man named Ray White, formerly Ray Bram. He’s now ‘forever with the Beings’, aka he’s food for the worms… or whatever the Enlightened do to their dead. I do not want to know.
I blamed my following dreams that night about all the Enlightened crap floating through my brain. I dreamed about floating through space, followed by thousands of others just like me. Not floating… swimming. We saw the beautiful blue orb that grew bigger with every moment, until I realized that the blue orb was a planet. There was a golden light in the distance that also attracted by attention, and although its warm pulled at me, I knew I had to go to that blue planet. So down I went, through the atmosphere, through the clouds, and into the ocean below.
I woke up before I started turning into a person, because I presume I was one of those stupid fucking fish Sam talked about. I hated it.
What I hated more is that Sam just ‘bumped into me’ while I was out for coffee. Nevermind I’d never seen him at that coffee shop before he got me that stupid macchiato that started all this in the first place, and now suddenly he was there, acting like he’d been getting coffee there his damn life.
He perked up when he saw me and waved. “Hey, Amy, you’re usually at work right now, right? Something happen?” He said, sounding so casual and relaxed.
My stomach twisted. “I’m just here to pick up my coffee and go, I’m busy,” I said, trying to hold back the shakes that came from seeing him here. “When do you want the laptop back?”
“When you don’t need it anymore. But hey, if that one’s not working out, I can see if Peter’s willing to give up any of his old machines,” Sam laughed, “But I doubt it. He still has one of his dad’s laptops, the thing’s practically a blunt weapon with how heavy it is.”
“Yeah, I have to go,” I said, almost dropping my coffee with how fast I grabbed it.
“Same, see you again, Amy.”
Sam left just in front of me, and when I left the coffee shop I swear my heart stopped. I dropped my coffee and didn’t even try to pick it up as its contents spilled out all over the sidewalk.
Sam was getting into his car. A black car. Not unlike the black car I saw that night with all the ‘hooligans’ inside. He noticed me staring real quick and managed to pull off confusion pretty frikken’ well.
“You good, Amy? You need a ride? I just have to make a stop back the church, but I can get you home.”
I swallowed, shaking my head. “I… I’m good,” I murmured before I walked away, using all my restraint not to bolt down the sidewalk and get away from what was no doubt an actual fucking crazy person. Some sort of deranged stalker hiding behind his bizarre religion to freak me out and try to manipulate me.
I threw the laptop away in the dumpster. I locked my door and all of my windows. I drew the shades, I curled up on the couch and dug out my emergency wine stash. I did not want to be sober anymore.
I don’t think I drunk that much. I don’t know anymore. Because I remember pouring myself a glass and the next thing I was waking up in bed, and I could hear someone in the kitchen. Someone was humming.
I was still wearing the clothes I had been the day before, which was a fucking relief, but I still crept out into the kitchen expecting to see a psycho. Instead, it was just Sam, frying up some eggs and bacon, buttering toast and looking perfectly natural.
“What the fuck?!”
Sam looked up and winced. “Ooooh, that’s how bad the hangover is, huh?” He said.
True, my head was killing me, but I wanted to run. Run like hell. “How the hell- why are you-”
“Did you forget?” Sam walked over, his brow knitting in concern. “You called me last night and asked if I could come over.”
“I don’t have your number,” I said.
“I gave it to you yesterday at the coffee shop. You wrote it down on your hand.”
I was trembling as I raised my hand up.
It was a phone number, in blue ink, my handwriting, in my palm. Like where I write everything that I’m scared of forgetting.
“I didn’t call you,” I said, shaking my head.
“You did, and you sounded… really drunk,” Sam exhaled as he went back to the stove to turn over the bacon. “You were crying about losing your job? I’m so sorry about that. I didn’t mean to come off as insensitive or anything yesterday, I didn’t know about the fire until you told me.”
I bolted for the living room, my head throbbing so bad I wanted to vomit. I picked up my phone and unlocked it, checking my outgoing calls. Sure enough, around eleven I’d made not one, not two, but five fucking phone calls to the number scrawled on my hand.
“I was worried, so I came over. You cried all over my t-shirt, you were upset and I didn’t really know what else to do. So I helped you get to bed and I figured I should stay, just in case you got sick or something. I was worried, Amy.”
I shook my head. “I locked my door though, windows too,” I said.
“Did you?” Sam frowned. “I let myself in after you didn’t answer. I didn’t check the windows though-”
I did. I ran around the apartment like a chicken with its head cut off, checking everything. Windows weren’t locked, my emergency wine bottle was empty even though I can only remember that one glass. My makeup was all ran like I had been crying, like Sam said I was. Everything lined up with what he said had happened, except for my own memories.
When I finally returned to the kitchen, Sam had two eggs, two pieces of toast and a stack of bacon ready on a plate and was pouring a glass of orange juice for me. He still looked worried. “You look a little pale, Amy, are you okay? You look messed up.”
I opened my mouth to respond but instead just ended up running for the sink to vomit. Sam held my hair back and just patted my back while I vomited up was I presume was the oh so lovely mixture of stomach bile and wine.
“You know what? How about you go lay back down, I’ll bring you your breakfast in a bit. You got tums or advil for the pain?”
I shoved Sam away, wiping the puke off my mouth best I could. “I don’t remember calling you. I know I locked the door, I know… I know I did. I threw away your laptop. I didn’t drink that much, what the fuck is going on?” I sounded pathetic I’m sure, but you try sounding great during what felt like the worst hangover of my life.
“You what?” Sam left my side and poked his head into my office before he laughed. “What are you talking about, Amy, my laptop’s right there. Christ, how wasted did you get?”
No. No way. Despite the room spinning around like I was on a carnival ride, I ran to the office. The laptop was still there. Not broken. Not even dirty.
Had I thrown it out after all? I can’t even tell you for sure now. I just sunk to the floor, ready to start crying, while Sam squatted down next to me.
“I… I…” I swallowed. “I need to be alone. Or, I need my mom, she’s not far from here…”
Sam handed me my phone, I’d probably dropped it somewhere along the way during my run around the apartment panic. “Go ahead. I gotta go to church anyway. If you need some support while you’re between jobs, I promise, The Enlightened can give you any help you need,” He said, giving my back a final pat before he got up and left the apartment.
I didn’t end up calling my mom. We’re not that close. I’m not really close to many people, if I’m honest. I lost a lot of my friends after high school when they all took off for college and I hung behind to join the work force. It’s not like they dumped me on purpose, we just lost contact. I wasn’t really close to my coworkers either, I’d chat with them but I never really made plans with them. I’m not lonely, or I don’t think I am. Maybe I am. Maybe that’s why I talked with Sam and Peter that day. I was that pathetic and lonely that I talked with two randos I thought were Jehovah’s Witnesses.
This all started a month ago and I keep finding Sam and Peter in my life. Mostly Sam, and never Peter without Sam. I’ve refused all other fortunes from Peter, which clearly upsets him but I don’t know if I care about his feelings. I am getting more writing jobs thanks to that first connection I made with that editor, but I am not using the laptop Sam gave me. That’s currently in a box, that’s in another box, that’s duct taped shut and shoved to the back corner of a closet.
I don’t know how Sam’s wormed his way into my life so efficiently, but now I even find myself calling him on my own. It feels like he’s always been there. Sometimes I even see him in my dreams, laughing or smiling at me, looking at me with fondness and warmth that makes me feel… good about myself. I sometimes wonder how good I felt before I met him, if I felt this good before.
But I don’t know. My brain’s been so turned around. I don’t know how much I can trust myself, if I’m losing my mind. I know I cannot join the Enlightened, even if Sam and Peter are okay at times. It’s nuts, right? It’s all crazy talk. There is no Being in my dreams telling me it’s okay to doubt, but it’s never okay to assume something’s wrong from the get go. His name isn’t Riesis, and I know that those shadows outside my window aren’t people watching me, it’s just trees.
I don’t know anything anymore. I just. Don’t. All I know is that every time Sam asks me to go to the Enlightened Church with him, it’s becoming harder and harder to say no.

don't pass bet craps video

The essence of the Don't Pass bet is that the players who choose it hope that the dice will land on 2, 3 or 12 after being rolled by the shooter. As already explained earlier, these three numbers are called “the craps numbers”. Landing the dice on any of them, in this case, is when you win. Placing a Pass Line bet is betting with the dice, and placing a Don't Pass bet is betting against the dice. Pass Line bets are also said to be "betting right," while Don't Pass bets are said to be "betting wrong." (Not that either is any better or worse a bet than the other -- this is just craps jargon.) Even though the odds are still in favour of the house when you bet on the Don’t Pass Line, it is actually the best bet you can make in Craps. It has slightly better odds than betting the Pass Line so it will always be a solid bet when you make it. It has a house edge of 1.40%. The pass line and don’t pass wagers are the most commonly placed bets in craps and also the most straightforward This question has a simple answer. The don’t pass bet has a lower house advantage than the pass bet. If you’re comparing craps wagers by how likely they are to pay off, don’t pass bets are technically better than pass line bets. Look at the house edge on various bets in craps. Poke around on that site long enough and you’ll see that the house edge on pass line bets is around 1.41%, while don’t pass bets give the casino a 1.36% edge. The Don’t Pass Flat bet is a self-service bet, which means you make this bet yourself by placing your chips in the Don’t Pass area. The Don’t Pass area on the table layout is adjacent to the Pass Line visibly marked “Don’t Pass Bar 12.” The Don’t Pass area is called the “back line” (opposite of the Pass Line, which is called the “front line”). The don't pass bet is another one of the most popular bets in craps. Players who wager on this bet are known as "wrong" players since they are usually betting against the shooter who is a "right" player. You are hoping the shooter doesn't pass their dice on the pass line. If you place a bet on the don't pass bar (sometimes known as bar 12), you are essentially betting that the rolled dice will land on 2, 3 or 12, which is when you win. In contrast, you would lose if the dice land on 7 or 11. Avid craps lovers who have decided to place a don’t pass bet while playing craps need to know that there are four possible outcomes they can enjoy. Considering the fact that the don’t pass bet is the exact opposite of the line bet, this means that when the don’t pass bet is a winning one, the line bet will be a losing one and vise versa. The Come and Don’t Come bets are among the basic and most fundamental wagers in craps, along with the Pass and Don’t Pass bets. Most players would learn how to place them within their first several games, although they seem a bit confusing at first. Let us start with the Pass and Don’t Pass bets – these are when players are betting on or against the dice. The don’t-pass line bet is one of the best bets at the craps table as it has a house edge of only 1.36% compared to the 1.41% of the pass-line bet. How the don’t-pass line bet works. If the come out roll is a 2 or a 3 you will win even money on your bet. If the come out bet is a 7 or 11 you will lose your bet. The don't pass line has a 1.36% house edge. Adding on a don't pass odds bet will decrease that percentage even further. Note that you win both your don't pass odds bet and don't pass bet (or don't come odds bet and don't come bet) when the dealer rolls a 7 before the point number, which is more likely than the point number and benefits you even more. The numbers 6 and 8 pay out 6:5 odds, 5 and 9 pays out 3:2 odds, 4 and 10 pays out 2:1 odds or $2 for every $1 wagered.

don't pass bet craps top

How to Play Craps and Win Part 7: Don't Pass Line - YouTube

About Press Copyright Contact us Creators Advertise Developers Terms Privacy Policy & Safety How YouTube works Test new features Press Copyright Contact us Creators ... Don't Pass Hedge Craps Strategy is a craps strategy from my Dice Advice series. In Dice Advice I will show viewer submitted strategies and roll them. In Seas... Another strategy for you guys. Enjoy! Shows you how to use the Don't bets to insure your 6 & 8 place bets. Video 7 explains the Don't Pass Line and how it can be used as an alternate strategy to other provided in earlier videos. It is not my favorite way to play b... Using the DP as insurance against big losses on a single roll.Also, recognizing table conditions and not fighting them is discussed. "The trend is your friend!" Looking for a system to pass the time at a crap's table that is COLD. Here is a great one to use and that works very well. It's all in knowing how to bet

Don't Pass / Don't Come Free Odds Bet - lol Craps

don't pass bet craps

don't pass bet craps - win

ELI5: in Craps, why isn't the Don't Pass bet (no odds) considered perfect even odds?

Get To Know More About Craps And Baccarat

The Texan gambled at Binion’s Horseshoe Casino, which became known for accepting bets of any size. Bergstrom put $777,000 on a Don’t Pass line craps wager. #onlinecasino #realmoney #gambling #onlinegame #casinousa

The Texan gambled at Binion’s Horseshoe Casino, which became known for accepting bets of any size. Bergstrom put $777,000 on a Don’t Pass line craps wager. #onlinecasino #realmoney #gambling #onlinegame #top10casinowebsites

The Texan gambled at Binion’s Horseshoe Casino, which became known for accepting bets of any size. Bergstrom put $777,000 on a Don’t Pass line craps wager. #onlinecasino #realmoney #gambling #onlinegame #casinositesuk

Strangely unsatisfied after winning

Favorite strategies with hedging?

120 to 890 in craps. Might not be a lot to some but it was a good night for me!

Why I'll never stop buying GME, and why you probably should

NOTHING annoys me more than when people tell you “Don’t spread your legs” as part of an argument for being pro life....

Neckbeard tries to buy inferior parts to keep money for the build, malicious compliance intervenes.