If there’s one thing we Mac users hate, it’s an error code. Most error codes are arcane and simply don’t tell us what’s going on inside our Macs. They come at the worst possible time, too.
We’re trying to do something and the dreaded bing sound interrupts our plans. Some error codes and messages are easy to figure out. But Apple has hundreds of error codes embedded into OS X and even experienced Mac users have no clue what they are without a flashlight and a guide.
Here’s the worst Mac error code you can ever have.
Bad Error Code. Bad. Down Boy!
My life consists of running and managing a few hundred Mac, Windows PC, and Linux servers across a half dozen state agencies.
Through the years I’ve collected my fair share of Mac error codes. Apple even has a number of web pages dedicated to Common System Error Messages (and what they mean).
For example, Type -43 error.
That means File Not Found, Folder Not Found. Easy, right? If you know the code.
My neighbor told me of a problem he had with his Windows PC. Whatever happened he didn’t know how to fix it, so he called his teenaged son into the family room to take a look.
Teenagers always know more than their parents, right?
The son clicked away on the keyboard for a few seconds, restarted the PC, and all was well. The father was impressed and asked about the problem.
Dad: What was wrong, son?
Son: It was an ID ten T error.Dad: An ID ten T error? What’s that? I may need to fix it again.
Son: You’ve never heard of an ID ten T error? It’s the most common kind.Dad: It’s new to me.
Son: Write it down. You’ll figure it out.
My neighbor told me the code, so I wrote it down.
ID10T.
I once worked for a “Leading Harvard University Teaching Hospital” staffed full of Harvard Doctors. Often they felt their position/degree granted them omnipotence, leading to bizarre situations where they would attempt to diagnose, and repair, IT issues themselves (hint: cutting traces with a scalpel does not make _anything_ better on a motherboard…)
Internally my part of the IT dept had a database of our users, and notes on them (the database has long since been destroyed.) Along with the mundanely useful (how to find odd offices) it held tips like who was really connected with who, how to best interact with the user (call’s her mouse “the bar of soap” – don’t correct just call it that) and tips like “she calls every 28 days with an issue” or “HARVARD DOCTOR”.
My job was to troubleshoot & support IT issues significantly out of the ordinary; problem people, unusual projects, etc. So I got to know the more outrageous folks, including some impressively arrogant ones (and many lovely wonderful talented people!). One such was a hugely well known doctor, his medical reputation exceeded only by his ego, his obnoxiousness, and his utter incompetence at any sort of technology.
He’d call in on a regular basis, in a blind rage at some technology related issue. Typically it would be things like his not loading paper into his printer, not entering his password properly, or, yes, the office cleaner unplugging his extension cord to vacuum his office and neglecting to replug it, compounded by his refusal to glance over for to the nice Help Desk staffer and confirm it was plugged in.
Anyway, on our two-dozenth or so interaction, when he’d realized I was indeed officially his IT-person-of-last-resort, and my mandate was if we couldn’t fix it then he’d have to go elsewhere, paying out of pocket, and yes the administration indeed backed this, he made a proud statement. He was not just _anyone_, he was tagged in our database as an eye-dee-ten-tee!
Indeed he was!
I’ve no idea who let slip this designation to him, and am forever glad I moved on before he ever discovered the true implication of the status he so proudly announced to me, but I’ll always cherish that moment.