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<...
What a Bastard:
BOfH #9
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 cousin 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 tool!)
'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 funamentals 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!
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've been a teacher you know – I've got this way with people...
...
BOfH #10
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 email 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 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!
