America's Hat

I'm not one to normally find fault with our neighbors to the North. Canada has never personally offended me and the handful of Canucks that I've known have been thoughtful and intelligent.
Furthermore, my love of syrup, terrible beer, and women that speak French (perhaps one of the few saving graces of the Québécois), I really don't have negative things to say about Canada or most Canadians (though even the dullest of readers should note my dig at Quebec in the last sentence). That being said, one of my cases the other day involved dealing with the three most dense Canadians in the history of mankind.
Some of you may recall an episode of The Simpsons in which Bart is placed in a special education class. While his classmates explain their reasons for being in the class, one is heard to remark, "They think I’m slow because I’m from Canada, eh?"
That describes, to perfection, these men.

The call started off a day prior when the primary business owner (henceforth called "Canuck Chuck") was working with a coworker to configure a VPN. That call reached a head with the question "How do I attach something to an email?"

The stage had been set. The bar was as low as it could go, and it was about to get worse.
I was contacted by Canuck Chuck's employee (from here on out, Canad Ian). When I asked Canad Ian what I could help him with, he informed me that he needed to connect to a server.
Ok, I can figure this out, "How do you need to connect to it?"
"I don't know..."
".........soooooooooooooo, where is the server located?"
"Uhh... I don't know, eh?*"
Alright, this was going to be fun. After about five minutes of Abbott and Costello style dialogue, I concluded that the customer did not have enough information to move anywhere with the issue.
The call concluded with him deciding to call back later with Canuk Chuck.

A short time later and I was speaking to Canuk Chuck and Canad Ian.
The problem, it seems, was that Canad Ian needed help with a VPN installation. Not a configuration, mind you. AN INSTALLATION.
Canuk Chuck had emailed the installation files and a configuration file to him but they had not been able to progress past that point.
This SHOULD be cake.
I started the walk-through, "Ok, open up the zip file."
Canad Ian decided to densen things up, "What zip file?"
"Did Canuk Chuck send you an email?"
"Yeah."
"Is there a zip file in it?"
"There are two files. One is named 'VPN' and one is named 'Settings'."
"Well, how about you download both of them?"
"But which one do I need, eh?*"
"BOTH.OF.THEM."
Canad Ian proceeded to download both files and promptly forget where he downloaded them to.
After a quick run around, I was able to locate them in a folder located in his Program Files.
On to the install, FINALLY, "Ok, now I want you to double click on the 'VPN.zip' file."
"Ok, it has a file called add1.bat, add1.cab, blah blah blah blah blah-"
"OK, that's fine. Do you see something that says 'Extract All Files' on the left side of the window?"
"No... but I see add1.cab, add1.bat, blah blah blah blah-"
"OK, try looking to the LEFT of those."
"No...no...I don't see it. I see 'My Computer', 'My Documents', 'Netwo-"
"Are you looking to the left of the window or to the left of the screen?"
"OH! Ok, Yeah. Now I see it! It's really hidden, eh?*"
"........Yeah, sure. I guess it can really get away from you."
From here I instruct Canad Ian to extract all of his files to a folder on his desktop. As expected, this results in us having to navigate around to find where he ACTUALLY extracted the files.
I don't recall where we found them, simply that it made about as much sense as the rest of the call already had.
Before moving forward, I made him disable his Anti-Virus and firewall, just to be on the safe side.
It was finally time to install, "OK, now look for a file that says 'Setup' and appears to be an executable file."
"Setup.inx?"
"No"
"Setup.bin?"
"No"
"Well, I don't see any other setup file!"
"Do you see anything that says .exe or has 'Install Shield' under it?"
"There's a file called 'setup' with 'Install Shield' under it. It's not capitalized, though."
".............."
"Should I click on that one?"
".....Yes.... click that one."
We then dance through the usual "Just click 'next'," conversation until I hear the default Windows XP warning noise.
With dread in my heart I asked, "What just happened? Did you get an error?"
"No, it was just my Anti-Virus trying to stop me from installing it."
"Is your anti-virus not disabled?"
"I closed the icon down at the bottom, that means it's off, eh?*"
The pain? UNBEARABLE.
Amazingly, we get through the install and reboot the device. It's taking an amazingly long time.
Canad Ian says to me, "Sorry for the delay, but I'm a little slow over here."
Truer words were never spoken.

Restart complete, we import the policy and successfully connect back to the office. Canuck Chuck then jumps in and says, "Now how does he get to the server?"
I pose the usual sort of questions about the IP address of the server, if they have a portal they access it from, is it tied to a domain, etc. Canuck Chuck doesn't know, "It was just set up after all."
Since Canuck Chuck was at the office I was able to have him determine the IP address of the server after a long walk through the GUI on Windows Server 2003. I then had him attempt to access the server from another locally connected computer. That process involved such gems as,
"Let me check that and make sure I typed in 'one nine two dot one six eight dot zero dot two' and not 'one nine two dot one six eight dot oh dot one oh oh'," and "Of course I can access the server, I'm sitting at it!"
It became very quickly apparent that NOTHING had been configured on his server. At this point in time, it was just another computer.
"Well Canuck Chuck, it looks like you haven't configured your server to do anything yet. It doesn't seem to be a file or web server, and doesn't seem to be handling email or anything for you. Have you tried configuring yet?"
Canuck Chuck was very confused, "Well, no, I hired a guy who's going to do that."

He hired a guy to set up his server and network. For whatever reason, he didn't see fit to involve this guy in any of the call. Furthermore, he didn't consider asking this gentleman about why he couldn't reach his server! Instead, he contacted the manufacturer of his router!

I explained the issue at hand and Canuck Chuck decided he would speak to his "server expert" after the call. However, he still wanted to know if I could help ANOTHER employee with his VPN install.
SURE! Why not? (It was at this point that it took all I had not to weep like a little girl.)

Here we meet the third stooge. We'll call him Labatt Blue.
Labatt was no better than Cand Ian when it came to basic computer usage. In fact, he disabled his anti-virus in the same way! Great minds think alike!
I instructed Labatt Blue to download the files that he had recieved from Canuck Chuck and place them on his desktop. I then asked him to double click on the .zip file and open it from the desktop.
"I can't."
"Why not?" I asked, barely hiding my excitement.
"It's in my email."
Now, I'm sure I could have done some fancy dancing and found out what was up, but instead I went for the easy way. I used a quick and dirty VNC client to connect to his machine and take command (For the non-techie readers, I used a program to see and control his computer from my office).
It seems it was a simple problem: HE DIDN'T EVEN DOWNLOAD THE FILES.
For those of you that are instructed to download files from your email, don't click "Send/Recieve Mail" and believe that it's done. That's not how it works. Bad... Bad.

We get the VPN client downloaded, installed, and configured. Labatt Blue connects and then asks me, "Ok, so, how do I reach the server, eh?*"
I figure that Canuck Chuck will inform him that the server isn't being used for anything yet. I hold my tongue and wait. And wait. And wait. A good solid minute of silence hangs in the air before Labatt Blue says, "You still there, guy?"
Damn you Canuck Chuck...damn you. "As I was telling Canuck Chuck, your server isn't configured to do anything at this point. It's just sitting there. You can't access it yet."
Labatt Blue seemed to get it, "Oh, ok. It's not setup yet."
"Yes"
"So now you're going to help me set it up?"
"..........NO. NO. I'M NOT."
"Well then how will I use the server, eh?*"

And that's how I spent my afternoon with Bob and Doug McKenzie.



*"eh?" added for comic effect... though honestly they did say it several times.

Every different place is more the same

Well, I was given the option to transfer out of the group I was with at the old job.
I decided instead to quit.
I ended up briefly working for a CRM group doing analysis of customer usage... it wasn't fulfilling.
Then THEY downsized and I ended up working for a company that makes SOHO network equipment.
Goodall works here as well now.

The first chapter has ended, but the book isn't over.

Here is our story:

This place is divided into a few groups: Managers (semi-tech), Engineers (technical), Business Techs (Goodall and I belong to this group), Greeters (non-technical), and Punching Bags (customers call these people to bitch and/or buy things).

Managers like to think they're useful.... and they are...sorta.
Engineers ARE useful... at least, some of them.
Business Techs cover the spread. Some are worth their weight in gold, some are idiots. Most aren't too noteworthy.
Greeters are almost all human scum. Collections of STDs and failed abortions, these people perform the most basic actions yet STILL seem to fuck it up. Maybe two to three are worth more than things I scrape off of my boot.
Lastly, Punching Bags.
Christ... these people pretend to be hard working martyrs. In reality, they basically have the same jobs as the Greeters. The only difference is that they also have to field complaints on the Business and Engineer techs. Boo-hoo-hoo.
They do less work and complain that they do too much.
They do easy work and complain that it's too hard.
They goof off and complain that the job is all go-go-go.
Worthless.Human.Waste.

Lets have a good long look at one of them, shall we?

We'll call her "Wheezy". This isn't because she's in any way like Louise Jefferson. Not in the least.
This woman is a withered hag. Her soul itself is nothing but stale tobacco and cheap fragrance. If her raw and raspy voice wasn't painful enough, her "laugh"sounds like a broken squeak toy.
Even with her voice little more than a desert wind in a paper bag, she still finds a way to deafen anyone within vicinity. Lucky for them, they'll already have choked on the fumes from the cheap perfume she bathes in daily before any lasting hearing damage is done. If I had to guess, she's probably in her mid 30's, but years of smoking and working as a cheap hooker have taken their toll, leaving her looking like a 70-year-old gold-digger trying to hold onto the pathetic, threadbare essence that she still considers "beautiful".
Long and short: I feel a mixture of terror/hatred towards this woman. You should expect, Dear Readers, that she will end up factoring into several stories from this place.
Consider yourselves warned.