Many moons ago I designed a simple template for a blog. It was a very popular blog back then, and it’s even more popular now with a book deal signed and on-sale, and many Bloggie Awards won (3 in a row!).
It’s a regular read of course, and this evening, as I clicked to view the latest post I was slightly taken aback to see a bug in the template! Ack!! How long had that been there and why hadn’t I spotted it before now!!
I quickly emailed Zoe to tell her and ask for her permission to go in and fix it… ohh ok, I was on the Mac and couldn’t be bothered going upstairs to get the log-in details I would need to edit her Blogger template. Thankfully she was online at the time and very promptly emailed me back with her login and password. Very trusting of her, it’s just as well I’m a nice guy…
Over to Blogger I headed and, having signed myself out (I still use it for Scottish Blogs), I logged into My Boyfriend is a Twat to make one quick change to the template.
Change made and republished, all was well, so I headed back to Google Mail to email Zoe to tell her I was done.
Now as this entire process, from my initial email to her response and on through to the fix to her template, had taken less than 10 minutes, I wasn’t surprised that her email was still at the top of my inbox. I clicked to open it and sent her a quick confirmation that the job was done and that I was looking forward to reading her book.
I clicked Send and was taken back to my inbox. I suddenly noticed that there was a green dot next to Zoe’s name in the list and the Google Talk listing had suddenly appeared in my sidebar as well… hey, hang on, I thought as I looked back at the list of emails in my inbox, I don’t recognise any of these emails either ……. OHHH FUCKITY FUCKSTICKS!!!
Yup, that’s right. I was looking at Zoe’s inbox (phnarr, phnarr).
In my haste to get the fix in place I’d forgotten that, these days, Google owns Blogger so, and this is crucial, WHEN YOU ARE LOGGED IN TO BLOGGER YOU ARE LOGGED INTO GOOGLE.
There, in plain view infront of me was an inbox full of juicy details and, probably, bank account details and sexual scandal. I’m guessing of course for, as soon as the realisation of what I’d done had sunk in, I quickly logged out and emailed Zoe from MY Google Mail account professing my embarassment and offer profound apologies and promises of copious amounts of wine (hey, if you are gonna apologise to someone properly, you’ve got to offer them something you know they like).
In fact, I think it’s the first time I’ve ever blushed with embarassment whilst online.
So, for the record: Zoe, sorry about that, I can’t help though, I is idiot.