Nothing major or even significant going wrong, just mild annoyances compounding.
I have decided that once I acquire a functioning time machine, the first thing I do after I go back and persuade Pope Gregory that he really needs to put the end of the year in a different spot, is to find the guy who decided -- wait, no, scratch that. The first thing I'm going to do after fixing the calendar is to find a bunch of early map-makers and explain to them that the world is round, longitude goes from 0 to 360, and 0 longitude goes in the middle of the Pacific ocean, ALWAYS. The second thing I'm going to do is to go find whichever designer of B came up with the idiotic convention that a leading zero means the number is in freaking octal and slap him in the grundle with a cactus before he can write it down.
Fortunately, there exist bars of chocolate and caturday picspams to keep me from committing actual violence against non-historical personages.
Thank God that I don't have to deal with fortran this week. (Fortran is the worst language.)