[ZendTo] Number of files in a drop off.

Marlon Deerr MDeerr at hshlawyers.com
Tue Jul 13 16:08:09 BST 2021

Or better yet, why not (also) have some sort of message informing the user ahead of time of the limit. Why bother have them go through the process of adding 200 files just to find out later that they are capped at 200?

Maybe some sort of message in and around that yellow highlighted area below?

[cid:image001.png at 01D777D7.5CA37850]

From: ZendTo [mailto:zendto-bounces at zend.to] On Behalf Of Jules via ZendTo
Sent: Tuesday, July 13, 2021 11:02 AM
To: zend.to at neilzone.co.uk; ZendTo Users <zendto at zend.to>
Cc: Jules <Jules at Zend.To>; Greg Clarke <greg.clarke at waikato.ac.nz>
Subject: Re: [ZendTo] Number of files in a drop off.

On 13/07/2021 15:58, zend.to at neilzone.co.uk<mailto:zend.to at neilzone.co.uk> wrote:

On 13 Jul 2021, at 15:35, Jules via ZendTo <zendto at zend.to<mailto:zendto at zend.to>> wrote:

the limit is 200 files per drop-off.
I didn't see why anyone would sensibly need more than that

Out of curiosity — and I tend to agree — what is the message shown to the user if they attempt to do this?
At the moment, I strongly suspect it just ignores them after the first 200 files.
Sub-optimal  :-/

Does it (or could it) gently suggest that they put the files into a zip file or other archive, and try again?
Good idea. That'll just be some more JavaScript in the New Drop-off form.





'If I be the first of us to die,

 Let grief not blacken long your sky.

 Be bold yet modest in your grieving.

 There is change but not a leaving.

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 The dead live on forever in the living.

 For all the gathered riches of our journey,

 The moments shared, the mysteries explored,

 The steady layer of intimacy stored.

 The things that made us laugh or weep or sing,

 The joy of sunlit snow or first unfurling of the spring,

 The wordless language of look and touch,

 The knowing, each giving and each taking,

 These are not flowers that fade,

 Nor trees that fall and crumble.

 Nor are they stone,

 For even stone cannot the wind and rain withstand

 And mighty mountain peaks in time reduce to sand.

 What we were, we are.

 What we had, we have.

 A conjoined past imperishably present.

 So when you walk the woods where once we walked together

 And scan in vain the dappled bank beside you for my shadow,

 Or pause where we always did upon the hill to gaze across the land,

 And spotting something, reach by habit for my hand,

 And finding none, feel sorrow start to steal upon you,

 Be still.

 Clear your eyes.


 Listen for my footfall in your heart.

 I am not gone but merely walk within you.'

      - Nicholas Evans, an excerpt from The Smoke Jumper


Twitter: @JulesFM
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