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 tho. 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 frame-grabber's Video player (sent off for repair, due back sometime in '97) 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 seem to have 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."
"What?"
"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.. Besides which, you forgot to include your criminal record.."
"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 such 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.." >clickedy clikc< "..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 then 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.
BOfH #4
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.
"Not, 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 ink-stained 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.
Beautiful.
"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 we 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?" the 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 buzz them thru 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."
"Huh?"
"No arguements, just do it."
He wanders off, hand held high. Shit, I hate myself sometimes!
+–+
| +–+ Digitally Enhanced | This space intentionally blank for notetaking.
| |-O-O-| Portrait of: |
| | % | Simon Travaglia, |
| | – | Analyst/Programmer |
| +–+ Waikato University |
+–+
UNPRECEDENTED PERFORMANCE: nothing we had before ever worked this way
The Real Bastard:
BOfH #5
I'm bored senseless, so I pass the time by reading users email. 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 to alt.singles.with.severe.social. dysfunctions on news, and make a note in my diary to be there with my camcorder. Should be a blast!