One bourbon, one scotch, and one mav

“Good afternoon, Glock Technical Support, how can I help you?”
“Yeah, man, my Glock 23 will not fire this one cartridge here.”
“Okay, have you tried any other rounds?”
“Fuck that, man, I’d have to rack the slide back, eject that round, and load another one off the top of my magazine. That’s too much work, and this gun is instrumental to my business. I don’t have time to do that shit. You make it work.”
“Well, sir, based on what you’ve told me so far I’m pretty sure that your problems exist solely with that single cartridge, but we could disassemble the weapon and see if we can find anything wrong with the hardware, if you’d like.”
“Fine. Let’s do that.”
(insert crap where we take the whole goddamn thing apart and put it back together)
“So what’s going on with my gun?”
“Well, sir, like I said when we started this, I’m pretty sure it’s a problem with the single round you’ve been trying to fire.”
“YOU MEAN WE JUST WASTED AN HOUR OF MY TIME FOR NOTHING?”
“Sir, if you recall, I told you before we even started that I thought it was a problem with that cartridge.”
“LISTEN, ASSHOLE, I JUST WANT YOU TO FIX MY GODDAMN GUN!”
“Sir, if you’d please calm down, I would advise uninstalling the cartridge you have and trying a new one.”
“Fine. Fuck. It’ll take me days to get a new cartridge reloaded, and all that personalization I had put into that one is gone.”
[insert crap where we load a new round, whining and bitching all the way]
“Sir, if it’s safe for you to do so would you mind test-firing that weapon for me?”
“Hold on.”
[SPANG]
“There you are, sir, is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Eat shit.” [click]

gun : computer :: cartridge : windows. This is what I do all day.