Ah, the perils of telecommuting.
So, you may or may not know (care?) that while I live in Michigan, I work in Chicago... via TV. I have a camera here, they have a camera there, I can see them, they can see me, blee, blah, blew -- it's all very Jetsons. That is, if the Jetsons were real people and really fucking boring and instead of the totally hot Judy Jetson, there'd be me. Correction -- her mom Jane was way hotter, but then I've always had a thing for cartoon redheads.
Anywhich, the part of the company that I do most of my work for has recently moved upstairs, to a different space. In this new space is an extra room that's used for various things, such as testing games, having brainstorms, conducting testing on new ideas, etceterblah. This room is also known as the "nursing room," where one of the employees, who has recently spawned, secretes herself a couple of times daily to, well, secrete nourishment for said spawnage. It's great that she has a nice room in which to do her pumpage, and, so far, it hasn't been a big deal, except for the fact that I think a couple of the spawnless workers are a little ookie about what's "going on" in there.
So, cut to today. We had set up a couple of times to test this new game we're working on, and, toward the end of the first testing session, I had to excuse myself to go pick up Miss O from school. By the time I got back home, gave her and Mr. Z a snack and got them settled in with their homework, I popped back upstairs to see if I could catch the second testing session.
When I got to my room, the TV connection had disconnected, which happens a lot. Whenever there's a fucking hiccup in the network, either the camera freezes, or it cuts the connection. No biggie. I picked up the remote, hit redial and waited for the other camera to answer.
Well, it answered, all right. But instead of phoning into the testing session, I had, inadvertantly, dialed into A MILKING SESSION!
Luckily, I hit the disconnect button before I had time to really "latch-on" to what had happened. I felt horrible and IM'd frantically to my co-workers, telling them to apologize for me and explain that it was TOTALLY an accident and that I didn't see ANYTHING and, even if I did, which I DIDN'T, it wasn't anything I hadn't seen thousands of times before when the Old Lady was pumping to provide milky nourishment for the spawnage.
And when everyone convinced me that it was finally okay to dial in again (after about 100 IMs querying "Really?" "Are you SURE?" "You're not fucking with me, are you?" "I'll kill you if she's still in there!"), I was able to apologize to her "in person," and she assured me that it was no biggie, and that my sudden, shocking appearance hadn't caused her milk ducts to dry up, and that the La Leche League wasn't going to show up at my door and beat me senseless with breast pumps and rubber nipples.
I'm such a jackass.