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SME Live Session
QuizĀ by Raz Abellana
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āAdmin portal's visible audit trail viewĀ goes back 3 months.Ā Ā If the audit trail you need is past this time, you can request for a copy by clicking theĀ link at the bottom of the audit trail.Ā Who do we send an email if we want to follow up on these requests?Ā
Ivan Sathianathan
Adam Varro
Jason Villafuerte
Sean Logan
āHow do we handle a Wonoloer inquiring about Wonolo Wallet if s/he isĀ not part of the EA (Early Access)?
Advocates may useĀ W::Programs::Wonolo Wallet - Non-Early Access
Transfer the case to T&S
Escalate the case right away toĀ L3. DO NOT HANDLE THE CASE FURTHER.
Admin portal's visible audit trail viewĀ goes back 3 months.Ā Ā If the audit trail you need is past this time, you can request for a copy by clicking theĀ link at the bottom of the audit trail.Ā Who do we send an email if we want to follow up on these requests?Ā
How do we handle a Wonoloer inquiring about Wonolo Wallet if s/he isĀ not part of the EA (Early Access)?
We can re-invite Wonoloers who signed up for the 5P Refresher On-Demand course in Webinar Jam if they missed attending the session.Ā
Wonoloers are informed that they are blocked when they attend theĀ 5P Refresher: On-Demand Course.
How many minutes should we always involve a participant in a training?
SME Staff Meeting 4/23SME_ISO14001REFRESHER(SME POSITION)SD-WAN SME QuizLol itās mewho known's me the mostUnit 6 test. That`s meName: Marco Ramirez - āI Am Not Batmanā TW: language Itās the middle of the night. And the sky is glowing like mad radioactive red. And if you squint, you could maybe see the moon through a thick layer of cigarette smoke and airplane exhaust that covers the entire city like mosquito net that wonāt let the angels in. And if you look up high enough you could see me-standing on the edge of a eighty seven story building. And up there-a place for gargoyles and broken clock towers that have stayed still and dead for maybe like a hundred years-up there is me. And Iām freakin Batman. And I gots Bat-mobiles and Bat-a-rangs and freakin Bat-caves like for real, and all it takes is a broom closet or a back room or a fire escape and Dannyās hand-me-down jeans are gone. And my navy blue polo shirt? ā The one that looks kinda good on me but has a hole on it near the butt from when it got snagged on the chain linked fence behind Arturoās but it isnāt even a big deal cause I tuck that part in and its like all good? āthat blue polo shirt? ā Itās gone too. And I get like, like transformational. And nobody pulls out a belt and whips Batman for talking back ā-Or for not talking back āAnd nobody calls Batman simple ā- Or stupid ā- Or skinny ā- And nobody fires Batmanās brother from the Eastern Taxi Company ācause they was making cutbacks, neither, ācause they got nothing but respect, and not like afraid-respect. Just like respect-respect. āCause nobodyās afraid of you. Cause Batman doesnāt mean nobody harm. Ever. Cause all Batman really wants to do is save people and maybe pay Abuelaās bills one day and die happy and maybe get like mad famous. For real.ā¦And kill the Joker. Tonight, like most nights, Iām all alone. And Iām watchingā¦And Iām waitingā¦ Like a eagle. Or like a āno, yea, like a eagle. And my cape is flappinā in the wind (ācause itās freakinā long), and my pointy ears are on, and that mask that covers like half my face is on too, and I got like bulletproof stuff all in my chest so no one could hurt me and nobody ā nobody ā is gonna come between Batman, And Justice. From where I am I could hear everything. Somewhere in the city thereās a old lady picking Styrofoam leftovers up outta a trash can and sheās putting a piece of sesame chicken someone spit out into her own mouth. And somewhere thereās a doctor with a whack haircut in a black lab coat trying to find a cure for the diseases that are gonna make us all extinct for real one day. And somewhere thereās a man, a man in a janitorās uniform, stumbling home drunk and dizzy after spending half his paycheck on forty-ounce bottles of twist-off beer and the other half on a four hour visit to some ladyās house on a street where the lights have all been shot out by people whoād rather do what they do, in this city, in the dark. And half a block away from JanitorMan thereās a group of good-for-nothings who donāt know no better waiting to beat JanitorMan with rusted bicycle chains and imitation Lousiville Sluggers, and if they donāt find a cent on him ā which they wonāt ā theyāll just pound at him till the muscles in their arms start burning, till thereās no more teeth to crack out. But they donāt count on me. They donāt count on no dark night (with a stomach full of grocery store brand macaroni-and-cheese and cut up Vienna sausages), Cause theyād rather believe I donāt exist, And from eighty-seven stories up I could hear one of the good-for-nothings say āGimmethecashā real fast (like that) just āGimmethefuckingcashā and I see JAnitorMan mumble something in drunk language and turn pale and from eighty-seven stories up I could hear his stomach trying to hurl its way out of his Dickies. So I swoop down like and fast and Iām like darkness. Iām like SWOOSH ā- And I throw a Bat-a-rang at the one naked lightbulb ā- And theyāre all like āwhoa-motherfucker-who-just-turned-out-the-lights?ā āāWhatās that over there?ā ā-āWhat?ā ā- āGimme whatchou got old manā ā- āDid anybody hear that?!ā ā- āNo, reallyā ā- āThere aināt. No. Bat.ā ā But then ā- One out of three good-for-nothings gets it to the head! And number Two swings blindly into the dark cape before him but before his fist hits anything I grab a trash can lid and ā-- Right into the gut, and number One comes back with a jump-kick but I know judo-karate too so Iām like ā-- Twice ā-- but before I can do any more damage suddenly we all hear a CLIC ā CLIC āAnd suddenly everything gets quiet And the one good-for-nothing left standing grips a handgun and aims straight up, like heās holding Jesus hostage, like heās threatening maybe to blow a hole in the moon. And the good-for-nothing who got it to the head who tried to jump-kick me and the other good-for-nothing who got it in the gut is both scrambling back away from the dark figure before him. And the drunk man the JanitorMan is huddled in a corner, praying to Saint Anthony ācause thatās the only one he could remember. And thereās me, Eyes glowing white, cape blowing softly in the wind. Bulletporoof chest heaving. My heart beating right through it in a Morse code for āfuck with me, just once, come on, just try.ā And the one good-for-nothing left standing, the one with the handgun, he laughs he lowers his arm, and he points it at me and gives the moon a break, and he aims it right between my pointy ears, like goalposts and heās special teams. And JanitorMan is still calling Saint Anthony but he aināt pickinā up, And for a second it seems likeā¦maybe Iām gonna lose. Naw. SHOO ā SHOO! FUACATA! --āDonāt kill me man!ā āāSNAP! ā Wrist CRACK ā Neck ā SLASH! ā Skin ā meets ā acid ā āAHH!!ā āAnd heās on the floor. And Iām standing over him. And I got the gun in MY hands now. And I hate guns, I hate holding āem cause Iām Batman, and āBatman donāt like guns ācause his parents got iced by guns a long time ago ā but for just a second, my eyes glow white, and I hold this thing, for I could speak to the good-for-nothing in a language he maybe understandsā¦CLIC ā CLICā¦And the good-for-nothings become good-for-disappearing into whatever toxic-waste-chemical-sludge-shit-hole they crawled out of. And itās just me and JanitorMan. And I pick him up. And I wipe sweat and cheap perfume off his forehead. And he begs me not to hurt him and I grab him tight by his JanitorMan shirt collar and I pull him to my face, and heās taller than me, but the cape helps so he listens when I look him straight in the eyes and I say two words to him: āGo home.ā And he does, checking behind his shoulder every ten feet. And I SWOOSH from building to building on his way there, ācause I know where he lives. And I watch his hands where he lives. And I watch his hands tremble as he pulls out his keychain and opens the door to his building. And Iām back in bed before he even walks in through the front door. And I hear him turn on the faucet and pour himself a glass of warm tap water And he puts the glass back in the sink. And I hear his footsteps, And they get slower as they get to my room. And he creaks my door open like mad slow. And he takes a step in, which he never does. And heās staring off into nowhere, his face the color of sidewalks in summer, and I act like Iām just waking up, and I say, āWhatās up, Pop?ā And JanitorMan says nothing to me. But I see, in the dark, I see his arms go limp and his head turns back, like towards me, and he lifts it for I could see his face, For I could see his eyes, And his cheeks is dripping but not with sweat. And he just stands there, breathing, like he remembers my eyes glowing white. Like he remembers my bulletproof chest. Like he remembers heās my pop. And for a long time I donāt say nothing. And he turns around, hand on the doorknob, and he aināt looking up my way but I hear him mumble two words to me. āIām sorry.ā And I lean over and open my window just a crack.ā¦ If you look up high enough you could see me. And from where I am? I could hear everything.