Features & Improvements
You can now sort the options for Select-type custom fields by alphabetical order. Previously you could only sort them by mild, medium, and spicy.
A course prof sits at his keyboard, cracks his knuckles, and punches in a 13-digit ISBN for his term Book List. Unbeknownst to him, Populi coverts it to a 10-digit ISBN and shoves that into Bookstore. There, the Term Book List thinks it's a new book that does not exist in the bookstore. Mayhem ensues; accusations fly; hearts are broken and dreams are shattered. Until... a bugfix is deployed.
"I remember when a fella would print the week view of his Calendar and the thing the computer spit out was uglier than my nephew and at least twice as useless. But you look at it now ever since the bugfix, and, well, the thing just has all this useful information printed on it. All clean and well-organized," he said, and he dragged off his cigarette. "My nephew is still a homely moron, though. They got a bugfix for that?"
The report might have been a typo, but Fred didn't think they paid him enough to care, so he just sent it out verbatim: The Export Helper now exports middle_name, not middlename. He blew on the page to dry the ink and stuck the paper in the pneumatic tube, which whooshed it out of the basement office they'd stuck him in and up towards the suits on the 9th floor. He put his feet up on the desk and for the next twenty minutes he cleaned his fingernails with a paperclip.
Elaine wasn't having it. "You press that Email Faculty on the student's profile, and what does it do? I'll tell you what it does. It includes inactive faculty members in the email. Why? Why is that?" Her pitch was rising and Terry put his finger over his mouth to shush her, then nervously pointed at the next room where the others were working. A voice crackled from the conference call speaker—it sounded like Samantha—sounding exasperated. "Elaine, they deployed a bugfix for that. So you can shut your yap about it already."
Nothing was what it seemed. The cat was barking and the dog had feathers. Outside the sun was shining but snow was accumulating on the roofs of the houses and the hoods of cars. Noreen jiggled the mouse and looked at the Analytics report. She exhaled, relieved. At least standings from other programs weren't displaying on the GPA By Program report like they had been. With that resolved she turned her mind to the turtles wandering around on the ceiling.
In a hole in a ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty hole, mind you. That's not where the hobbit lived. But there was a nasty, dirty hole near the Bywater landfill, however, and in that lived the Status condition in the Data Slicer. It had two options, "Active" and "Deceased", and as our tale was beginning, the folk of the Shire had stuffed the hole with old straw and lit it on fire. The condition was roasted to ash and to replace it they erected a Deceased condition with two options, "Yes" and "No".
Gary kicked off his boots by the door, stumbled into the living room, and fell on the couch. He couldn't remember ever feeling so tired. On the side table the answering machine was blinking. Against his better judgement he slapped the button and listened to the grainy recording. "Courses with degree prereqs now look at whether the degree was being pursued by the term add/drop date to see whether the student is qualified to enroll in the course."
"Duplicate attendance events? It happens, but not because you edited an attendance event in the Calendar view. We fixed that bug." Tom stared right into Jake's good eye. "So put that gun down. It don't happen any more." Suddenly, Samuel kicked the door open wearing a Santa hat and carrying twelve pizza boxes. "The 'za is HERE! Hey, get the guys!" Jake pivoted and unloaded his clip at Samuel. Samuel stood there, shocked. Blood pooled around his feet. The three-legged squirrel appeared from under the Santa hat, scrambled down Samuel's face, and opened the top pizza box. Just as Samuel fell, the squirrel extracted a slice of the Hawaiian and leaped onto the stolen chiffarobe.