And now I exercise the basic law of Bastard Operating which roughly says, Bastard Operators don't just win. Anyone can win. Bastard Operators win and totally DEMORALISE. That's *real* winning.
'I hope you switched your machine off before you called'
'Why?' she barks, a little uncertain.
'Well, it's just that personal property isn't covered by the site insurance policy. Why, if there was a power surge, heaven knows WHAT could happen to an expensive peice of delicate *personal* machinery like...'
I hear her place the receiver down *very* quietly and sprint on tippy toe to the door. As I repeatedly toggle her circuit breaker I start thinking about what I'll be watching on video this afternoon... Still on the phone, I hear a bang way in the background which probably means her pc has shit itself...
10 minutes later the phone in the control room. It's the secretary, and she sounds a little stressed. I manage to translater her sporadic outbursts into a request that her lines be connected to her terminal. I tell her they are, and has she got the technician to look at it. She hangs up.
No sense of humour.
10 minutes later still, the technician rings up and tells me all the secretaries lines are dead. I tell him I'll check them out, then plug her ethernet, phone and Appletalk back in. Which leaves RS232...
Another 10 minutes later I'm startled out of my snooze by the phone. It's the technician still greasing the secretary by being super-efficient. He tells me the RS232 still isn't working. I make some excuse about dry joints on the plug etc, and ask him to put a new plug on the cable. I hear the >snip!< as he clips the old plug off, and the receiver rattle as he starts to strip the wire in a manly way with his teeth. Then I connect the mains cable to my end of the RS232.
As soon I hear the '>ERRRRRREEEERRKKK!<' coming down the receiver at me, I know that the 'incorrect inventory' problem won't be repeated.
Another problem solved by the Bastard Operator from Hell.
It's a dirty, filthy, stinking dog-kill-dog job, but someone's got to enjoy it.
Bastard Operator from Britain #1
'He's back, and this time he's got a portable bulk-eraser!!!'
It's...
It's...
IT'S!!!!...
The Bastard Operator from Britain #1
......
'...I'd like to escalate this call please..'
'I'm sorry?' I can't help but be a little surprised at this guy's tone.
'I'd like to escalate the severity of this call. Surely a person in your situation is aware of the new International Standard regarding fault logging and tracking...'
He's obviously insane. There's no other reason why he'd call me this early on a monday afternoon, as soon as I've got to work...
'What was your username?'
He tells me, and some all-too-familiar key clicking noises follow. I notice his account has the pervert flag set, and yet he has no gif files in his directory – which can only mean one thing....
'Now, this escalation business, you want me to increase the priority with which I'll handle this call?'
'Yes!'
'Tell you what, I'll double it' I say, in gentle, soothing tones
'Good' he mutters
'...Now, twice nothing is nothing, and because it's an ESCALATED priority call, it goes into the RED rubbish bin instead of the brown one.'
'WHAT!' he screams 'DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU'RE TALKING TO?!?!'
'Well, I could look up your username and find out, but we deal with so many people here. Your name wouldn't mean anything. Not unless we'd seen you doing something *really* depraved on one of our hidden security cameras – you know the sort that were destined to be put in the computing labs to stop piracy, but actually got put in toilet cubicles after the installation order got corrupted somewhere between the purchasing office and the maintenance department. A freak electrical storm maybe... Anyway, unless you'd done something really disgusting that got caught on film...
...like..
(I look him up in the blackmail book)
.. like dressing up in women's underthings and dancing what looked (to the untrained observer) like the lead from 'Mary Poppins', I'm afraid that your name wouldn't mean anything to us....'
I've heard the sharp intake of breath – he knows I've heard it, for him it's all over.
'Of course, if you were one of THOSE people, well, I'd remember you immediately, especially when reminiscing to the promotions board, all of whom are squarer than a Rubik's Cube. But I'm in a forgetful mood at the moment. I hope you don't mind if I forget that you called...'
'Yes, of course' he says, the last vestages of self-respect vanishing.
'Goodbye now!' I cry cheerfully 'But before you go, if you could be so kind as to send some money to the Operators Benevolent fund, I'd be so grateful – in fact my gratitude might make me careless with the bulk eraser, if you see what I mean.. .. .. Mary..'
He makes some wild promise of a large amount, and I keep my side of the deal by being careless with the bulk eraser. His account backups are a mere memory... Then I look thru the exabyte rack for the video tape in question, (Labelled Archive-26/5/90) and throw it in the 'Post awaiting cheque clearance' bag, addressed to his boss..
It's for the best really, he was under a *lot* of pressure.
The next call of the day is from the User-Union, a pressure group that sprung up because some users thought they were getting a rough deal.
There's no pleasing some people!
Anyway, to get them off my back, I invite them in to see just how hectic an operator's life really is, and have prepared lots of flashing lights and alert sounds to keep the mindless cretins fooled...
They all file into the control room, about 10 of them in all, the dweebish types who hang out in groups like this as a social event. Things are going well, I'm answering calls and reseting 'alarms' when some sour-faced old lard jockey ruins everything.
'These bells and lights don't fool me you know. I was an engineer on these babies when they first came out. This alarm sequence is invalid. There's no such alarm as 00-10-03-15-E. That just can't happen. You've probably just programmed the status display to say that! This is all a sham!!'
Trust there to be some re-education loser in the audience to totally stuff up my day. That just leaves plan B, although it's risky...
'Yes, it's true' I admit, cowering like Joan Crawford on a bender 'It's all fake. I just didn't want you seeing what's in the computer room...'
They can't resist the bait. As soon as it looks like I'm hiding something they're in for the kill like Piranha.
'WHAT'S IN THE COMPUTER ROOM?!!??' they demand, chomping at the bit
'Well,' I say in my best 'this-is-it' voice, 'you'd best see for yourself..'
........
Later that day, I help the police try and piece the shocking scenario together...
'It's shocking!' I say, voice oozing with the horror of it all, 'just terrible!'
