Dårlige dage, hvor alt går galt, er en del af livet, hvad enten man er tegneserietegner, neurokirurg eller flyveleder.
Gary Larson
Tekster → BOFH
It's backup day today so I'm pissed off. Being the Bastard Operator From Hell, however, does have it's advantages. I reassign null to be the tape device - it's so much more economical on my time as I don't have to keep getting up to change tapes every 5 minutes. And it speeds up backups too, so it can't be all bad.
A user rings.
"Do you know why the system is slow?" they ask
"It's probably something to do with..." - I look up today's excuse - ".. clock speed".
"Oh". Not knowing what I'm talking about, they're satisfied. "Do you know when it will be fixed?"
"Fixed? There's 275 users on your machine, and one of them is you. Don't be so selfish - logout now and give someone else a chance!".
"But my research results are due in tommorrow and all I need is one page of Laser Print..."
"SURE YOU DO! Well; You just keep telling yourself that, buddy!" I hang up.
Sheesh, you'd really think people would learn not to call!
The phone rings. It's him again, I can feel it. That annoys me. I put on a gruff voice:
"HELLO, SALARIES!"
"Oh, I'm sorry, I've got the wrong number"
"YEAH? Well what's your name buddy? Do you know WASTED phone calls cost money? DO YOU? I've got a good mind to subtract your wasted time, my wasted time, and the cost of this call from your weekly wages! IN FACT I WILL! By the time I've finished with you, YOU'LL OWE US money! WHAT'S YOUR NAME - AND DON'T LIE, WE'VE GOT CALLER ID!"
I hear the phone drop and the sound of running feet - he's obviously going to try and get an alibi by being at the Dean's office. I look up his username and find his department. I ring the Dean's secretary.
"Hello?" she answers.
"Hi, Simon, Bastard Operator From Hell here. Listen, when that guy comes running into your office in about 10 seconds, can you give him a message?"
"I think so..." she says.
"Tell him: 'He can run, but he can't hide'".
"Uhm. Ok"
"AND DON'T FORGET NOW, I WOULDN'T WANT TO HAVE TO TELL ANYONE ABOUT THAT FILE IN YOUR ACCOUNT WITH YOUR ANSWERS TO THE PURITY TEST IN IT..."
I hear her scrabbling at the terminal...
"DON'T BOTHER - I HAVE A COPY. BE A GOOD GIRL AND PASS THE MESSAGE ON!"
She sobs her assent and I hang up. And the worst thing is, I was just guessing about the purity test thing. I grab a quick copy anyway, it might make for some good late-night reading.
Meantime backups have finished in record time, 2.03 seconds. Modern technology is wonderful, isn't it?
Another user rings.
"I need more space" he says.
"Well, why don't you move to Texas?" I ask.
"No, on my account, stupid."
Stupid? Uh-Oh..
"I'm terribly sorry" I say, in a polite manner equal to that of Jimmy Stewart in a Family Matinee. "I didn't quite catch that. What was it that you said".
I smell the fear coming down the line at me, but it's too late. He's a goner, and he knows it.
"Um, I said what I wanted was more space on my account, please"
"Sure, hang on".
I hear him gasp his relief even though he covered the mouthpeice.
"There, you've got plenty of space now".
"How much have I got?"
Now this REALLY PISSES ME OFF! Not only do they want me to give them extra space, they want to check it, to correct me if I don't give them enough. They should be happy with what I give them and that's it!!!
Back into Jimmy Stewart mode.
"Well, let's see, you have 4 Megs available".
"Wow! Eight Megs in total, thanks!" he says pleased with his bargaining power.
"No" I interrupt, savouring this like a fine red, room temperature "4 Meg in total!"
"Huh? I'd used 4 Meg already, How could I have 4 Meg Available?"
I say nothing. It'll come to him.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarg"
I kill me; I really do.
I'm sitting at the desk, playing x-tank, when some thoughtless bastard rings me on the phone. I pick it up.
"Hello?" I say.
"Who is this?" they say.
"It's me, I think" I say, having been through a telephone skills course.
"Me Who?"
"Is this like a knock knock joke?" I say, trying anything to save myself having to end this game.
Too LATE! I get killed.
Now I'm pissed!
"What can I do for you?" I ask pleasantly (one of the key warning signs)
"Um, I want to know if we have a particular software package.."
"Which package is that?"
"Uh, B-A-S-I-C it's called."
>clickety clickety "del basic.exe"<
"Um no, we don't have that. We used to though.."
"Oh. Oh well, the other thing I wanted to know was, could the contents of my account be copied to tape so I have a permanent copy of them to save at home in case the worst happens.."
"The worst?"
"Well, like they get deleted or something..."
"DELETED! Oh, don't worry about that, we have backups" (I'm such a shit) "What was your username?"
He gives me his lusername. (What an idiot)
>clickety click<
"But you haven't got any files in your account!" I say, mock surprise leaping from my vocal chords.
"Yes I have, you must be looking in the wrong place!"
So first he spoils my x-tank game, and now he's calling me a liar...
"Oh no, I made a mistake" I say.
Did he mutter "typical" under his breath? Oh dear, oh dear..
"I meant to say: That username doesn't exist"
"Huh? >wimper< It must do, I was only using it this morning!"
"Ah well, that'll be the problem, there was a virus in our system this morning, the... uh... De Vinci Virus, wipes out users who are logged in when it goes off."
"That can't be right, my girlfriend was logged in, and I'm in her account now!"
"Which one was that?"
He tells me the username. Some people NEVER learn..
"Oh, yeah, her account was just after we discovered the virus." >clickety clikc< "..she only lost all her files"
"But..."
"But don't worry, we've got them all on tape."
"Oh, thank goodness!!!"
"Paper tape. Have you got a magnifying glass and a pencil. SEE YOU IN THE MACHINE ROOM!!!! NYAHAHAHAHAHA!"
I'm such a prick!
So I'm working so hard I barely have time to drive into town and watch a movie before I told people their printing will be ready. The queue's WAAAAY too long to have everything printed (and sorted) by the time I told them, so I kill all the small jobs so there's only 2 left and I can sort them in no time.
Then, after the movie, (which was one of those slack Bertolucci ones that takes about 3 hours till the main character is killed off in a visionary experience) I get back and clear the printouts.
There's about 50 people waiting outside and I've got two printouts. That's about average for me. I thought I'd killed more though. Anyway, I put out the printouts and walk slooowly inside, fingering the clipboard with "ACCOUNTS TO REMOVE" in big letters on the back. No-one says anything. As usual.
I'm sitting back in the Operations Armchair, watching the computer room closed circuit TV, which just happens to be connected to the framegrabber's Video player (sent off for repair, due back sometime in 2012) when the phone rings. That must be the 2nd time today, and it's really starting to get to me!
"Yes?" I say, pausing the picture.
"I've accidentally deleted my C.V!" the voice at the other end of the line says.
"You have? What was your username?"
He tells me. What the hell, I AM bored.
"Ah no, you didn't delete it - I did."
"I deleted it. It was full of shit! You didn't ever get more than a B- in any of your subjects!"
"Huh?"
"And that crap about being a foreign exchange student, that was your girlfriend and we both know it."
"Huh?!!"
"Your academic records. I checked them, you were lying.."
"How did y.." He clicks. "It's you isn't it? THE BASTARD OPERATOR FROM HELL???"
"In the flesh, on the phone and in your account.... You shouldn't have called you know. You especially shouldn't have given me your username.." >clickety - click< "Neither should you have sent that mail to the System Manager telling him what you think of him in graphic terms..."
"I didn't send any.."
>clickety - click<......
"No, you didn't did you? But who can tell these days. Not to worry though, It'll all be over VERY soon.." >clickety click< "..change my username back, and..."
"B-b-b.." he blubs, like a stood-up date
"Goodbye now" I say pleasantly, "you've got bags to pack and a life to start over..."
I hang up.
Two seconds later the red phone goes. I pick it up, it's the boss. He mumbles the username of the person I was just talking to, mentions something about a nasty mail message, and utters the words "You know what to do...", with the dots and everything.
Later, inside the Municipal Energy Authority Computer, as I'm modifying the poor pleb's Energy Bill by several zeros, I can't help but think about what lapse of judgement - what act of heinous stupidity causes them to call. Then, even later, when I'm adding the poor pleb's photo image over the top of the FBI's online "MOST Wanted Armed and Dangerous, SHOOT ON SIGHT" offenders list, I realise, I'll probably never know; but life goes on. A couple of hours later, as I see the SWAT vehicle roll up outside the poor pleb's apartment. I realise, that for some, it just doesn't.
But tommorrow is another day.
It's a thursday, and I'm in a good mood. It's payday. I think I'll take some calls. I put the phone back on the hook. It rings.
"I've been trying to get you for hours!" the voice at the other end screams.
"No, it can't be hours" I say, putting Blade Runner back into it's cover and looking at the back, "it was more like 114 minutes. I was on a long phone call with the big boss, trying to get you users some better facilities".
Hook; Line; and Sinker...
"Oh. I'm sorry."
"That's ok, I'm a tolerant person." I make a mental note to change his password to something nasty in the next couple of days.
"Um, I need to know how to rename a file" he says.
Oh dear... Hang on, it's payday isn't it?! I'm in a good mood.
"Sure. You just go 'rm' and the filename."
"Thanks."
"No worries" (Now I'm in a REALLY good mood. I think I just might write that script to make saving impossible on rogue at random times like I've been thinking about).
The phone rings again.
"Hello?"
"Hi there" I say.
"Is this the Operators?"
"Yes it is" I say, nice as pie.
"Could you get my printouts out please? I need them urgently, and I printed them over 5 minutes ago."
"Your username?" I ask.
He gives it to me, and I write it down for later. "No worries at all!" I say, and head to the printers.
There's a HUUUUUUUGE pile of printouts there, and sure enough, his is at the top of the pile. I pick it up, split it out of the rest and pour our inkstained cleaning alcohol all over it, run it over a couple of times with the loaded tape trolley then slam it in the tape safe door some times as well.
"Here's your printout" I say "Sorry about the delay, we've got a few printer problems."
He takes a look and shits himself.
"Well, can I print it again?" he asks, worried.
"Sure you can" I say "But no promises, the printer's a bit stuffed today!"
"Well can I print it on laser - is that working?"
"Yeah of course, but that'll cost you" I say, oozing compassion for the geek.
"It doesn't matter about the cost, THIS IS URGENT!"
I slide-on back into the printer room and put in the toner cartridge I save for special occasions - the one that prints thick black lines down the middle of the page and is all faint on one side. It took me quite a while to make it like that too. The printout shoots through and I bring it out immediately - I don't want to miss this!
"W-w-what's happened to my printout?" he geek-squeals at me. Lucky I wrote that username down - I'm really starting to develop a taste for torture.
"Well nothing. I mean sure, it's a little soiled, but that cartridge has already done 47 thousand pages and been refilled 17 times. It's quite good compared to some we get!"
Geek pays up and starts blubbing.
"Hey now. There's no reason to cry! Have you got a disk with your work on it?"
He gives me a box of diskettes and I step inside and run them across the bulk eraser. I come back out again.
"Sorry, I just remembered, our machine is on the fritz, you'll have to take these to the other side of campus to the machine there, it'll print them ok, and it had a brand-new toner yesterday."
"GREAT!"
"No worries. Oh, and hold the disks above your head the whole way there, the earth's magnetic field is particularly strong today."
"No arguements, just do it."
He wanders off, hand held high. Shit, I hate myself sometimes.
I'm bored senseless, so I pass the time by reading users E-mail. I must admit that today's lot is PARTICULARLY boring, not one good message in all of them. I was expecting at LEAST some veiled reference to a grope in a storeroom, but nothing. So I'm bored senseless by the usual drivel about some relative's surgery and how the weather is over the other side of the world - that sort of crap.
To relieve the boredom, I remove a e-mail party invite from a user's mail and post it under the senders username to alt.singles.with.severe.social.dysfunction on news, and make a note in my diary to be there with my camcorder. Should be a blast!
Next in line is the online medical records database, in which the company doctors store the current medical histories of the staff. I grep it quickly for "herpes" and "syphillus" and sell the results to the local scum newspaper. I cover my tracks by adding an entry to one of the doctor's online electronic diarys for yesterday saying "$500, Med Recs To Paper" I think that's all it should take..
I move some tapes from the racks to the trolley to make it look like we really use them, then start looking thru archie listings for a hidden x-gif site. I find one then start a batch job running under some user's account to get them all back, charged to him. I make sure he's got enough disk for the job by removing any files not related to the task at hand. Like all those "Doctorate Final Report" papers that have got quite large in the last couple of weeks.
I go back to the mail now, as something's bound to have happened. I do a grep on all mail files for the words "pregnant" and "family way", and post them anonymously to the local general interest newsgroup.
Then, before anything can happen, the power goes out! The next second, the phone rings.
"Hello?" I say, annoyed - the coyote was just about to kill roadrunner again!
"Has the comput.."
I hang up. This is a matter of life or death. Quick as I can I rip the computer power cable out of the UPS and plug the TV in. Damn! Wylie missed again!
Meantime, all the alarms are going off like crazy as the disks spin down, but that's ok, because my Mac and Terminal are hardwired to the UPS in any case; and I'm at the Beer Factory level in Dark Castle two.
The phone rings, so I pull the PABX breaker on the UPS switchboard and it stops. Now to look like I'm working. I break out the puck and the hockey stick and play a little one-on-wall. From the observation window it'll look like I'm being blindingly efficient, as per usual.
10 Minutes later, the power is back and we're two HD's down, but what the hell, I haven't lost a man, I'm onto the final screen, and there's more cartoons!
The phone rings, it's a looser. (What a surprise).
"Computer Room" I say, being efficient.
"Hello, when will the compu..."
I hang up. I'm doing well in the screen, all I need do is get past the wizard who throws spells at you and I'm in!
The phone rings again. I put it on hands free.
"Computer Room" I shout, still deep in the game.
"I've lost my files" a user whines over the loudspeaker.
"You bet you have" I say, as my concentration lapses just long enough for me to get zapped by the wizard.
"What was your username?" I say, all sweetness and smiles.
He tells me, I look, and he's right. Shit, and I didn't even do it!
Not to be outdone, I change his login directory to the null device, set his path to "." and redefine the command "news" to execute a script in his old login directory to send a nasty message to the equal opportunities officer, then delete itself.
Now that's trying!
It's friday, so I get into work early, before lunch even. The phone rings. Shit!
I turn the page on the excuse sheet. "SOLAR FLARES" stares out at me. I'd better read up on that. Two minutes later I'm ready to answer the phone.
"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN, I'VE BEEN TRYING TO GET YOU ALL MORNING?!"
I hate it when they shout at me early in the morning. It always puts me in a bad mood. You know what I mean.
"Ah, yes. Well, there's been some solar activity this morning, it always disrupts electronics..." I say, sweet as a sugar pie.
"Huh? But I could get through to my friends?!"
"Yes, that's entirely possible, solar activity is very unpredictable in it's effects. Why last week, we had some files just dissappear from a guys account while he was working on it!"
"Straight Up! Hey, do you want me to check your account?"
"Yes please, I've got some important stuff in there!"
"Ok, what's your username..."
He tells me. Honestly, it's like shooting a fish in a barrel. Twice. With an Elephant Gun. At point blank range. In the head.
(Do I really need to tell you the <clickety click> bit? I think not).
"How many files are in your account?" I ask.
"Um, well there should be about 20 in my thesis writeup, 10 or so with the data for it, and another 20 or so in a book that I'm writing."
"Hmmm. Well, I think we caught it just in time. You've still got 2 files left... .cshrc and .login"
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaggggggggghhhh!"
He sobs into the receiver a bit - it really turns my stomach.
"What can I do?" he sniffs.
"Ok, do you have any of your stuff backed up on floppy?"
"Some, but it's weeks old!"
I fire up the bulk eraser.
"Ok" I say "How about I come out and load all that data onto your account pronto so you can get some work done?"
"That'd be great, but it's all at home" he wimpers. "I s'pose I'll just load it all in myself tonight."
"Sure. But remember what I said, solar flares are bad for disks and machines. Protect your disks from solar activity to prevent them losing their data."
"How do I do that? Wrap them in tin-foil?"
"NO! TIN FOIL'S THE WORST THING! YOU KNOW WHAT TIN FOIL DOES IN A MICROWAVE DON'T YOU?!"
"Yes.."
"Then don't use it. There's only one thing that protects disks from solar activity.."
"What's that?"
"MAGNETS. Wrap your disks up in a pillow case with lots of magnets - Solar Flares hate that."
"Wow! Thanks!"
"No worries at all..."
Shit I'm good!
So I manage AT LONG LAST, to get a couple of hours off for lunch, AND, because I can't leave my desk unattended, I get the janitor in and have him sit in my chair. I tell him that all he has to do is make sure the receiver doesn't accidentally get put back on the hook. He agrees and I'm off.
First stop, the bank. I change a $50 note into quarters and then ask to see a balance of my account. Then I yank the power lead out of the teller's vdu. It dies. I say I'm in a hurry and is the manager around?
He rolls over like a man-sized twinkie and asks what the problem is. I say that all I want is a balance of my accounts. I cross my fingers. YES! He finds the vdu lead out, plugs it in, and logs in, TO THE MANAGER'S ACCOUNT. Now's my chance - I slip up against the counter, slopping 200 coins across the counter. The manager ignores it, but all the tellers dive for the money. I watch, unobserved, as the manager types in his password at the breakneck speed of one character a minute. At that rate I should've got $100 worth....
He finishes typing. "MONEY". What a toughy! Well, that's my mortgage taken care of tonight...
A user that I recognise from "D(eletion) day '98" approaches. I think he's going to talk to me. Even the bank manager is shaking his head furiously. But it's too late, he stops.
"Um, excuse me, Could you tell me what is the best computer to buy to do my thesis on?
"You've heard of Commodore 64's?" I ask
"Yes?.."
"Avoid them like the plague! Not many people know this, but computers aren't made to handle that much memory - it's over 64,000 things, more in some cases. It's a recipe for disaster!"
"Oh!"
"Try something safe and proven. A ZX81 with dual cassette drive if you can get it. The 1K ram model. Write that down. Don't buy a disk drive - you know how they're always failing, but music cassettes last forever!"
"Hey thanks!"
"No worries. What was your username again?"
He tells me. Just in time for D-Day 99. You'd think they'd learn.
I get back to work and the janitor's asleep at the terminal. I ask him if he wants to work here too, but he likes the ability to bust in on people when they're in the toilet...
I put the phone back on the hook, and straight away it rings. I hate it when it does that, it takes me AGES to get my walkman phones in.
It's the hottest hosemonster I've ever met, and she's got a computer problem! I love it when that happens!
"What's your username?" I ask.
She tells me (as if I didn't know).
Quick as I can I read all her e-mail (mostly boring stuff), then grep everyone else's mail files for her username. Nothing. Excellent!
"What's the problem?" I ask, all smiles and charm.
"I can't save my documents, it says something about space."
"Not a problem for long" I say, and delete everyone else on the same disk as her. "You should be fine now.."
"Thank you so much" she gushes.
I make a mental note to do something to her account again tomorrow.
"No worries."
The phone rings almost before I've got it on the hook.
"My files are all gone!" a voice whines out at me.
"When did this happen?" I ask.
"Just now..." he says, through the tears.
"I see. Well, I wouldn't worry, there's three days till the end of the semester, if you work day and night until then, you should get a D+ at least."
He sobs a couple more times then hangs up. What a wimp.
THE PHONE RINGS AGAIN!
"The screen on my PC is really dim" the woman at the other end says "Should I wind the brightness knob up?"
"NO!" I scream "Don't touch that knob! Have you any idea of the radiation that comes out of that thing when the knob gets wound up?!!!!"
"Well I..." she says, all uncertain.
"TAKE MY ADVICE!" I say "There's only ONE way to fix a dim display, and that's by power surging the drivers."
The words "power surging" and "drivers" have got her. People hear words like that and goes into dummy mode and do ANYTHING you say. I could tell her to run naked across campus with a powercord rammed up her backside and she'd probably do it... Hmmm...
"Have you got a spare power cord?"
"No.."
"Oh well, never mind, we'll have to do the power surge idea... Ok, quick as you can, I want you to flick the power switch of your PC on and off 30 times!"
"Should I take my disks out?"
"NO! Do you want to lose all your data!?!"
"Oh. No! Ok.."
I listen carefully.. ..
...clicky..clikcy...clikky.. .. .. ...clicky. ...cliccy.. . . BOOM!
Amazing, it probably made it to 27 - the power supply usually shits itself at 15 or so...
"MY COMPUTER BLEW UP!!!" she screams at me down the line.
"Really? Must've been a dodgy power supply! Lucky we found out now! Is your machine still under warranty?"
"NO!"
"Dear oh dear. Well, Best get it repaired then. Did you backup your files?"
"Yes, to the system, Yesterday, but all this morning's work is gone!"
"Oh dear. What was your username, I'll just check that your backups worked ok?"
She tells me....
I'm at my desk as usual, and a user calls.
"Hello Computer Room, Simon here, How can I help" I answer.
"I can't get into my account!" A user mumbles at me.
"What was your username please?" I say.
They give me their username. No worries. I look in their account.
"No worries, it was just a badly made login file. I've fixed it, you should be able to login."
"Thanks!"
"No worries. Have a nice day!"
WHAT IS THIS? you're asking yourself. Has the BASTARD OPERATOR FROM HELL turned over a new leaf? Sold out?! GONE INSANE?!!! Nope. The BASTARD OPERATOR FROM HELL is being logfiled. And if that's happening, I'm being bugged as well. So I'm being nice till I can find the bugs. It shouldn't be long - bear with me.
Ah. One in the phone handpeice. Basic. But then the boss is a sneaky sort, so there's probably a couple more. Ah! And another in the base of the phone and one inside my keyboard. Time for a mad coffee-spilling frenzy. This is a big job, so I bring the whole jug over and wait for a witness. The System Manager comes in.
"Where's that report of mine?" he asks in a surly manner - he's obviously pissed that I haven't implicated myself yet. Antagonist Identified. As the Principal of "BASTARD OPERATOR SCHOOL" (me) will tell you, "There's no problem so large it can't be solved by killing the user off, deleting their files, closing their account and reporting their REAL earnings to the IRS!"
I pull his printout from under the coffee jug where I put it, and the coffee splashes all over the phone and keyboard, which for some reason were stacked on top of each other.
"Woopsy!" I say, mock horror on my face. The System Manager's face tells me I was right in my guess.
"Don't think you'll get away with this!" he snarls and stomps off.
I click on the ethernet monitor and watch the traffic coming out of his PC.
Ah! A memo, authorising the termination of my contract, going to the laser in the director's office. I make a few alterations to the file in the spool directory and let it go to it's destination. I run my dinky little program that deposits -522 to the PC and our mainframe shits itself.
Later, while booting, I'll remove that nasty logfile business.
Next, I wander into the comms room and plug my earphone into the spare RS232 port in the Directors office. It's amazing how simple it is to bug an office once it's got data lines going to it!
Director:	"Are you sure about this?"
SysMgr:	"OF COURSE!"
Director:	"You don't want to reconsider?"
SysMgr:	"NEVER!"
Director:	"Very well, I'll fax it to staffing now.."
SysMgr:	"EXCELLENT!"
Two seconds later the System Manager strolls in smiling. "Well, I'll really miss you Simon.." he says, full of himself.
"Oh?" I say, all sweetness and charm "Where are you going?"
"No Simon" he says, with glee "You're going!"
"A PROMOTION!" I say "You've finally written that letter to the head of staffing telling him he's a bum-sucking arse bandit and that you quit?"
"No..."
"Are you sure? It's much better than the one about me being fired.."
"Y.." His eyes widen slightly!
It's like clubbing a seal to death with a foam cushion. He runs to stop the fax. Only, having just resigned, >clicky cklikcy< his card key no longer works...
Ametuers...
The Phone rings. It's the same guy as before.
"I can get into my account now, but I've run out of disk."
"Hang on, I'll see what I can do."
>clicccky<...
rm -r *
I'm driving to work and I'm stuck behind this old guy, the classic slow driver from hell, whose car red-lines at 20 mph and can't take corners at more than 5. I honk my horn but his hearing aid's probably turned way down to "whisper", so I'm stuck.
I make a mental note of his license plate. In fact, I did that 60 times a minute for 15 and a half minutes. Oh dear.. oh dear.... Looks like another call to the DMV Database to register a vehicle as stolen by out of town arms dealers...
I get to work, flick the excuse page over. "ELECTROMAGNETIC RADIATION FROM SATTELLITE DEBRIS". Fair enough, it looks like it's going to be a good day.
I log into "FUCKYOU", (the help-desk enquiries username) and go into mail. There's 3 new messages, the first of which is 117 lines long, so it's obviously a storyteller. Shit, I hate that. Instead of saying "My account needs more disk space" they tell you about how they're doing this bit of research for a lecturer and how it's got to be in yesterday, and they almost had it but their second cousing twice removed had a perforated herpes scab and lost a lot of blood and had to be rushed into hospital... etc etc. I delete the message.
Second message I read, but it's one of those people who can't handle the mail interface and send a null message, so all you get is headers. I reply to the message saying "No worries, we can do that by next tuesday". Hope it was important.
The last message I leave for tommorrow, because Saturday would be a dull day if I ever had to work then.
The phone rings. I thought I'd fixed that!
I put it on hands free so I can slop some pizza into the microwave.
"Yes" I call.
"Something's wrong with my Boot disk, I can't login to the server!?"
"Have you got your disk with you?"
"Sure!"
I go get the disk and put it and the pizza in for 5 minutes on "ULTRA-NUKE".
Six minutes later, he rings back.
"It still doesn't work, and now my disk makes a funny noise and smells."
"OH SHIT! It's that electromagnetic radiation from satellite debris again!"
"Really? I think I heard about that!" (What a fool!)
"Yep. I'm sorry, you'll have to buy another disk!"
"Oh, that's ok, I don't mind, the old one was getting worn. Thanks!"
"Sure, no worries. And be sure to run it through our virus checker FDISK when you get a lot of important data on it..."
"I will! Thanks!"
"That's Ok - it's my job!"
Xcbzone is running really slow so I kill off a whole lot of database backends that seem to be hogging all the CPU and get back into my game. Much better.
It isn't easy on the frontline, work work work...
I go to the cafeteria for a quick 2 hour snack - they're so nice to me there. They always have been, ever since that computer glitch that registered their kitchen as an organ recipient - very messy. I grab a couple of cans of coke and some cheese things and cruise on back to the office via the first year computer fundamentals lab. I look in the window on the scene that unfolds itself to me - a lab full of first years with no demonstrator.
WELL, I'LL JUST HAVE TO HELP THEN, WON'T I?!?
I walk on in.
"Right, I'm your temporary replacement demonstrator and today we're going to put our assignments aside for half an hour to learn about the REMARK function, or, as it's known to the computer literate world, rm.."
I should have been a teacher you know - I've got this way with people...
I get invited to a lecture as a guest speaker in "Computing Operations Fundamentals", so I leave the control room in the capable hands of Sam, the janitor and cruise on down.
The lecture starts and goes ok, then there's a 10 minute period where students get to ask a "real operator" questions that they have about operations.
I get out my pad and pen.
"Before we get started" I say, "could you just call out your username before you ask me a question, I find it easier to apply your problem to terms you would understand better!"
The lecturer eats all this up - the personal touch really gets to them.
"First Question, You over there.."
"What do you think of the privacy of individuals on a shared system?"
"What was your username please?"
"CMS1103!"
>Scratchy scritch<
"Computer Privacy... Hmmm. This is a toughy really. You mean stuff like reading the E-mail between you and your counsellor about you not wanting to come out of the closet?"
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGH!"
"AH. Well, he seems to have left - must have picked a bad COMPLETELY RANDOM example. Next question. You, over there..."
"CMS1136. I was.."
"Ah yes, 1136. The only person on campus who subscribes to alt.sex.buggery.by.sailors.dressed.in.mums.clothing!"
"It's purely for research purposes!"
"I'm sure it is. You do a lot of story posting for a researcher don't you?"
"NNGggggAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGHGH!"
"Next please..."
Two minutes later, the lecture theatre's empty. That's the problem with students today, they just don't want to learn.
I go back to control and Sam's asleep at the console again. I think he's after my job. I make a mental note to tap into the salary database and cancel his health and accident insurance payments. You can't be too careful..
I put the phone on the hook for the first time this afternoon and it starts ringing almost immediately. THAT'S IT! I redirect it to 911 and catch a bit of shuteye. That'll teach them. OOPS! Almost forgot to turn over the excuse calendar. "STATIC FROM NYLON UNDERWEAR" Nope, too plausable - although in some cases I could do an on-site check. Nah, can't be stuffed. I'll pick another one. "STATIC FROM PLASTIC SLIDE RULES" Now THAT'S one with a challenge!
I un-redirect the phone and drag the rubbish bin so it rests on the printer's stacker - another job well done. The phone rings - this could be the big one!
"Hi, Um, how do I spell-check my file?"
"Simple, just type `spell' and the filename!"
I'm so bloody nice this morning. Especially as I know that my version of spell introduces errors instead of detecting them. Things like changing friend to freind and vice-versa. What the hell.
The phone rings - it's them again.
"There's something wrong with spell!"
"What makes you think that?"
"Because my file is all corrupt now!"
"That doesn't sound like spell to me. Are you logged in thru your PC?"
"Yes, but I can.."
"Please, leave the technical diagnosis to me... Now, is there a plastic ruler somewhere on or in the desk?"
"Um >clunka<, yes..."
"Right. You've got a static buildup on your hard-drive caused by the changing electrostatic field generated by the ruler - the same one that makes bits of paper stick to it when you rub it up and down your arm..."
DUMMY MODE ON
"Oh. What do I do?"
"You know how you get paper off a ruler by hitting it on a table lots of times? Well do that with your PC. Say 20 times - lift it about a foot off the desk & drop it."
"Oh. OK"
>crash<
"Um, the screen went dark"
"That's ok, it's supposed to do that - keep going. And when you're finished, do the screen as well, that static may have gone up the wires to it."
>crash<...
I hang up. I get up and go out to the public area to put honey in the floppy drives when a guy who looked like Lee Harvey Oswald runs up to me and shoots me, only the sound comes from the machine room, and I can hear the ex System Managers chuckle....
Later, in the ambulance, I realise: I forgot to get the guys username...
Then everything goes dark...