Can I help you? NO!

Its been a while since I have posted here. I am still working in the same office but I switched from Basic Support to the Web Development Team last December so things have been less customer oriented for me since then, but here's a couple stories from the good old days.

Last summer I was working with a student employee who was working on some research in one of the labs. He needed me to upgrade some of his software and install a new program they had just purchase a license for and also just do some general house-keeping on the computer such as making sure the network printers had the right drivers etc. So he calls our office to ask if we can come do this for him asap. I tell him that I am currently working on another task and that I will be able to help him in about 15 to 20 minutes. He says that is perfect. I enter a new task with the list of everything he wants done and the computer's network name so I can connect to it remotely once I'm ready.

Now our office uses a network management service called Altiris which allows us to track all the inventory information on our computers and also allows adds some features to the RDC feature already included in Windows, such as being able to chat with anyone currently using the computer.

So I open up a screen to see if anyone is currently using the computer and the student who called me is logged in. I initiate a chat and start to type a message to him but he closes the chat window before I finish typing. So I open notepad and type the message and open the chat again and paste the message in and hit enter. A few seconds pass and he closes the window again. I call the lab and no one answers. I send him another message and he finally responds with simply, "I am busy, you'll have to wait." I closed the task as Resolved and I never heard from him again.

Another annoying incident occurred when one of our dept chairs put in a request to have some software installed on his MacBook. Such an easy task right? WRONG! First of all the task was put in as URGENT! priority. Which it is not. And then when we called, two minutes after he put the request in, he was not in the office. Left a message for him and he didn't call back that day. Next day left another message for him. He finally calls back and says to come at a certain time say 10 am. So I go over at 10 and he's not there. I wait for 20 minutes, no show. I go back to the office. 11:30 and he calls finally. Now for such an urgent matter on a MacBook laptop that will take 4 minutes to complete you'd think that not only would he at least BE THERE for the appointment that HE SET, but that aside he might be able to walk 20 feet down the hall with his PORTABLE LAPTOP and knock on the door and get it done in 5 minutes instead of 2 days. (by the way, this is all typical of just about every task we get from this guy)

So I'm finally in his office with his laptop. Now all of our software installers are located on a server on our network rather than on CDs because it is faster and easier to manage that way. So I need to connect to our server in order to get this done. As I am working on the network I notice that his laptop is not on our domain. We have a policy that all of our computers that we support are supposed to be on the domain. In fact that is the first thing we are supposed to check when doing ANYTHING on someone's computer so that we know it is a computer we are in charge of. So I double check some things and find out the computer is in our inventory, it just wasn't ever added to the Active Directory. So I add it. I install his software. Everything is happy doody. Wrong.

Him: "How come on my login screen there's this 'Other' option now?"
Me: "That is there because I had to add your computer to the domain. The 'Other' option is for domain accounts."
Him: "But I don't want other accounts on my computer!"
Me: "They aren't on your computer, the domain is handled through a server. Everyone has an access level and an account which they use to logon to any computer in the college. I assure you no one has access to your files or account unless you give it to them."
Him: "It was never on the domain before. I want you to take it off."
Me: "I can't do that. It is our policy that all the computers in our inventory be on the domain. If that is a problem you need to take it up with my boss."
Him: "I will! I'm important! Me me me!"
Little voice in my head: "Something about a broom stick and his anus..."

Anyway. Life is better where I'm at now. I've only dealt with one customer outside of the office. That was a pleasant tale in which I stupidly thought I could introduce the concept of XML to a little old British lady who is supposedly familiar with HTML. Stupid me.

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.

Delusions of catastrophe

Have you ever found yourself staring out the window looking at all of the cars below and you see one in particular that doesn't look quite right. Then before you can even begin to formulate hypotheses about the nature of this anomalous vehicle; it explodes! You find yourself flying to your feet barely believing the scene laid before you, flames coursing into the air and shrapnel riddled bodies spread across the lot. In that instant of complete exasperation moments before you shout for your colleagues to come running your neighbor lightly touches your shoulder and asks, "are you okay?" You begin to motion towards the window so they can see the carnage which has besieged your heretofore unremarkable workplace when something out of the corner of your eye catches your attention; the car, no longer in flames ambulatory personnel where once, moments before, laid the dead and wounded. Perplexed you compose yourself and say, "oh nothing, just a charlie horse," hoping this vain attempt to conceal your surprise will assuage the curiosity of your fellow office drone.

It seems that daydreaming about explosions and dead colleagues is not enough for some people. A few days ago the building in which we work was the target of a bomb threat. Not something terribly exciting considering the number of fire drills we are subjected to and former experience as a Security Manager for a similar company. This event was made all the more inane by the Managerial Harbingers of our Certain Doom walking calmly down the halls forcefully screaming, "this is not a drill." It occurs to me a more effective, if not certainly more entertaining, threat alert would be the same Managerial Harbingers of Certain Doom (MHCDs) to run down the aisles screaming with voices full of barely contained dread, "bend over, kiss yer ass g'bye, cause we're'll about ta die!" Because nothing says "End of Days" like poorly enunciated rhymes.

So the evacuation progressed as evacuations often do in the absence of immediate visual or sensory queues like dead bodies, or flaming corpses or people on fire soon to be dead and corpses. People slowly moved down stairwells to exits predefined in the evacuation plan no one has read. The heard of human cattle seemingly oblivious of the droning alarms and strobing klaxons were prodded forth by the helpful screams of their MHCDs. It was only then, many minutes later the building had been fully evacuated, this was signaled by the exit of the security staff who had, for the entire evacuation, been diligently visually monitoring their cell phones to make sure they did not miss any important text messages over the obtrusive commotion.

We waited outside for a little over an hour, loudly speculating as to the cause of the evacuation. Passing the time by incriminating our fellow coworkers with little to no conviction, and finally starting a pool to see who could accurately predict what precipitated the not so hasty evacuation. It turns out I lost the pool betting on the invasion of clown-midget-vampire-Eskimo-zombies... from outer space. As an aside, the building down the street was also evacuated, while they spray for clown-midget-vampire-Eskimo-zombies... from outer space.

With only 45 minutes of the work day remaining the MHCDs decided emergency services would not be finished in time for us to return to work so we were excused, with these final instructions: "Though the building is still likely to explode you are authorized to approach it to retrieve your vehicles."

A point well missed...

In a given day my responsibilities include the following:

1. Accurately answer questions via email.
2. When no emails are present, surf the web.
3. Should the web prove to be uninteresting, scotch tape my eyelids open and nap.
4. After napping avoid doing the following:

A. Starting fires.
B. Shouting obscenities.
C. Flinging poop.
D. Propositioning the hot chick in HR and getting suspended… again.
E. None of tne of the above.

People seem to misconstrue the meaning of “accurately” in aforementioned, completely non-fictitious, job duties; they seem to think accuracy means, “The answer I want to hear” not “The truth.” As a result of this exceedingly common misconception I get yelled at a lot.

An example of this misconception happened recently. I received an email from one of our large partners requesting network design assistance, now I’m a product specialist and in no way obligated to provide network designs to our partners, that’s why they get paid in big burlap bags with dollar signs on them and I get paid in expired frosty coupons from Wendy’s.

This partner wanted to create a configuration which would allow him to utilize internet connections at two separate sites, how this is accomplished isn’t important the important thing is this partner wanted to do this with equipment which is incapable of this function. I told him this and explained to him how to design his network to do this with existing equipment. This was last week.

This morning I received a new case from this partner attempting to reach a different engineer asking the nearly the same question. Providing the same, though rephrased, answer and politely explaining again how to configure his equipment to do what he wanted I sent off the return email. This partner must have been completely with out other work because five minutes later I received another response.

“You’ve completely missed the point,” then my oh so dense partner goes on to explain again in a different way that he wants this specific device to do something which is not only impossible because the product he wants can not perform this operation; but because no device in this category of products, industry wide, can do what he wants done.

My good partner, I am afraid it is you who has missed the point; you can not get me to confirm incorrect information so you have a basis on which to return products you, for total lack of your own research, incorrectly purchased in the first place. So the moral of the story, “no” does not mean try harder, it means “no and if you ask me again I will use a high-powered pneumatic staple gun to attach your scrotum to the back side of your head.

No intro needed.

This story deserves no intro:  I was on the phone with my husband outside the call floor when I was on my break one day.  There is a wall of windows that I was staring out, not really paying attention.  I saw Penguin and Bionic Nerd leaving the building.  I didnt really think anything of it, they always leave when I am on my break.  The next thing I see is Penguin drive his car over a mound of snow.  Of course, it got stuck on top of the mound of snow. (FYI:  It had snowed previously that week, and there was a mound of snow separating the parking stall, no other way to describe it.  Think of the mound of snow that a snow-plow leaves behind.)  Now this mound of snow that Penguin tried to drive his car over was not a small mound, not one that I would have tried.  OH, I neglected to mention, Penguin has a FORD TAURUS!!!!  Okay, Penguin, maybe if you have a four-wheeler, try driving over the mound of snow.  But a Ford TAURUS!?? Seriously.  Okay, back to me watching this out the wall of windows.  I quickly got off the phone, ran in the call floor and ran to Goodall to tell him its important to look out the window.  By this time, Penguin and Bionic Nerd are standing outside the car, inspecting the problem.  Then over the next hour, they try to push the car, shovel the car, will the car off the mound of snow.  Now, picture this:  two fat boys trying to free a Taurus off the mountain of snow.  I could not help but laugh.  In fact, almost all the people on the call floor had their noses and hands plastered to the windows.  Finally, I believe they shoveled their way out, but none the less my point is this.... Penguin, who knows everything about everything and is never wrong, finally went over the edge.  Too bad the mound of snow wasnt high enough that I could have pushed him off...... 

PhD in dumbassness

So I hope my colleagues will forgive me for posting stories on here relating to my current job rather than the good old call center. I stopped working there about 5 months ago and started a job closer to my school. I do still do tech support however and in fact my department is actually called the call center even though I usually am running around physically fixing computers rather than taking calls.

At my new job I do computer support for a group of individuals many of whom have PhDs though you wouldn't think so based on some of the problems I have had to help with and some of the questions I have had to answer. Everyone's heard the "is it plugged in?" tech support joke and can't believe anyone could really be that stupid. Well I'm here to confirm that yes people are that stupid. It happens a lot more often than you would think too. I would say probably at least once a week I am faced with cases like this. Often I will call the person requesting assistance and ask them exactly what is happening just in case the problem can be resolved over the phone. Sometimes this works but not in cases such as the one I am about to describe.

I got a case last week from one of our esteemed PhDers stating that he had been gone a few days and for some reason when he got back his computer would not turn on. My first thought was that it could possibly be a fried computer and he would need a new one. So I call him up and asked him the usual questions. "Did you check the power cord?" "Is it showing any lights or making any noises at all?" These were all met with the answer "I don't know I'm not a computer genius!" So I finally resolve to come take a look myself. I arrive to the office and go to the desk ignoring the blabber from the man telling me his complete ignorance when it comes to "computing stuff" and I push the power button. Computer fires right up.

Another instance occurred a little longer back. The main secretary office called us to tell us that their printers were all working yesterday but now today they aren't working. Me and a co-worker head down to investigate. We check the printers and they are all printing configuration pages fine but can't get any jobs over the network. Must be a connection problem right? That would make sense. We ask the head secretary if he checked the network cables already and he says yes. Doubting him I decided to check myself. Sure enough all of the printers are plugged in snug and tight to the switch. One tiny little problem though. The switch was not plugged into the wall. When asked how I fixed the problem I told the secretary that the switch just wasn't plugged in and was met with "we get network connection through the wall?"

Yes my friend this is why we prefer you frickin retarded faggots don't move shit around when you don't know what the piss you are doing. You would think one of the requirements to be a secretary would be "Must know what a computer is and know how to use it (including how to READ THE ERROR MESSAGE BEFORE CLOSING IT!)". Sorry that's a story for another day.

Slip of the tongue.

The other day I was in a jolly mood and decided to joke around with one of my co-workers. This co-worker (we will call him Shelly) had in the past been reprimanded for doing something that every person at my job does. Namely, playing video games. The sad part about this issue is that he is in a singularly bad position on the floor. Shelly is right outside of the big bosses door. His reprimand included being told that as the only person playing games on the floor, he is setting a bad example. Both of those statements were far from true, Shelly never complains, does his fair share of the work, and generally gets the games he plays from other co-workers.
I noticed that he was watching a demonstration video for a music player and, deciding to joke around with him, I walked up behind him and in a louder than it should have been voice said, "Jeez Shelly, you are tho only person that watches videos on the floor."
I was quite surprised to not instantly hear laughter when he turned around. Instead I heard a voice behind me. The voice said, "Who is watching Videos! Is that a video? Why are you watching videos? There are clients on the floor!"
Right behind me was one of the many Big Bosses of the floor. I had not noticed that she was there, and I had inadvertently gotten a decent co-worker in trouble for something that I myself do quite often.
Every one near by tried to cover for him. "No that wasn't a video." "We were just joking around." Even I tried to help. "I was just picking on him. I pick on him all the time. Why I even call him Shelly some times."
The Big Boss left and silence was once again my friend.
Later I went to apologise to him and explain that it was just a joke. Shelly admitted it would have been funny if he hadn't gotten caught because of it and that there were no hard feelings.

I need to pay more attention to who can hear me when I start talking.

We're the goddamn Internet!

Today I received a call from a customer. This is nothing new, it happens about 15 or so times a day. I open with my usual greeting and ask for his User ID. He informs me that he doesn't have one, but he just has a quick question. I explain that a few months back we began to require that everyone seeking assistance with our division register for a User ID. It was at this point that the customer decided to become entertaining, "Look, I just have a simple question. I've already spent 30 minutes navigating your phone tree!
(As an aside, if it takes you 30 minutes to navigate our phone tree, you have no business attempting to resell our equipment. The amount of brain damage you would have to have suffered to not be able to navigate our phone tree would have left you in an assisted care home.)
He continues, "Everyone I've talked to has been giving me surveys for sales and no answers!"
The line in which he came in indicates that at most he has spoken to one other person. We have a division within our company that handles routing the incoming calls. You say, "I need presales help on a wireless device." and they send your call off to my group.
Again, I inform him that we are REQUIRED to get a User ID. If he doesn't have one, the registration process can be completed in under 5 minutes. This further angers him, "I'm ready to have my client send back the equipment ordered from your company if you don't assist me on this!"
Again I tell him that, while that's unfortunate, I cannot help him without a user ID. He asks for my manager. Outside Voice was nowhere to be found, so I spoke to McFly. McFly understood the complaint and had me escalate it to one of our technical superiors, Rocket Science.
Rocket Science gets the call from me and proceeds to give the customer the same run down, "We MUST have a User ID from you, or at least an email!"
The customer shot back, "And become one of your marketing targets? NO! I'm not interested in giving you any of my information!"
"We WON'T send you ANY materials. We don't need to market. Our marketing is not done through the User registration site."
"I am going to have my customer send everything he ordered back to you!"
"That's unfortunate, but without a User ID or at least an Email, I can't help you," Rocket Science said cooly.
The customer had had enough, now he bared his teeth, "Look, I run a local ISP. I run SEVERAL websites. I deal with MANY investors! If you do not assist me without collecting my information your company name will NEVER be mentioned in a good light around my investors or clients!"
I was still on conference but had my headset muted. This proved to be a boon as I blurted out, "And why would we care? Maybe you missed it, but we're the goddamn Internet!"
Now, I need to come clean with you people. We're a large company. A VERY large company. We boast an annual revenue of $35 BILLION as of 2007. We're partnered with all of the largest telcos in the world. Our equipment makes up an estimated 70% of most of the physical infrastructure of what is considered "the Internet". What do all these numbers mean?*

WE DON'T CARE IF YOU TELL ALL YOUR FRIENDS NOT TO BUY FROM US.

Your paltry $5K will not even amount to a drop in the bucket. While you may turn your back, we'll keep selling our gear to the telcos that lease their lines to you to run your pissant, backwater ISP. Hell, one day you may lease a couple of T1s, maybe even a DS3! There's a very likely chance that you'll be leasing these from a provider that will issue you a gateway. Chances are, that gateway will be our product. So, Irate Customer, you can abandon us. That's fine. We won't abandon you.
Every ping you attempt will likely pass through something we had a hand in.
Every traceroute will touch something branded by my company.
Almost every packet of data you send anywhere will be forced to interact with our devices.

You can argue if we're moral. You can argue if we're just a greedy corporation. Both are equally valid questions and answers can be had for both sides of the argument.
The thing to remember is this: We don't need you, but you need us.

*It also means that you can't really name drop with us. Telling me, "This is a bid for a multi-million dollar company, if that makes any difference!" will only result in me informing you that no, indeed, it doesn't make a difference.

The Good, The Stinky and The Tarded

I have a couple of things that need to be pointed out; therefore this post will consist of two sections. Please be patient with me as my thoughts in-contiguously flow from one subject to another.

If you can’t be professional, be a professional Tard.

Some people spend years earning their diplomas and/or certifications, the documentation necessary to prove too many employers, whom are unaware paper can never be a dependable indicator of a persons worth, that a person is a Network Professional. Unfortunately some people think there are shortcuts available to gain an education they think will open doors to high paying jobs. These people go to technology schools holding class in the local high school gym or bank on educators using equipment with labels like IBM Mainframe Terminal Server and Commodore 64.

Here’s a tip, if you know the University requires multiple years to attain a degree, and Shifty the Diploma salesman tells you he can test you out in six weeks for a nominal fee, you might be a Dumb Ass.

Today I received an email from a customer requesting assistance updating the in and outward facing hardware at his company’s corporate headquarters. His email which started out articulate, I can only assume this was the result of a copy/paste from an email composed by some with possessing at least 60 more IQ points then this guy. However, as the email progress it began to digress into a lumpy pile of incoherent ramblings, poorly formed sentences and atrociously misspelled words. The majority of acronyms were misspelled; when you misspell an acronym it changes the meaning completely. For example when I say WAN you know I mean “Wide Area Network,” but when you misspell it thusly: NWA, you have just indicated both your poor taste in music and your raging incompetence as a Network Professional.

The point is thus: if you are going to email another professional in your field a list of requirements for research that very nearly constitutes said professional doing your job for you, have the common fucking decency to be clear and concise, and completely spell out the operation you are trying to perform; saying things like, “and the thing I is needed to load balance the webs stuff” (all misspellings and horrid grammar are direct quotes).

Good By Pigpen

Alas poor Pigpen we could smell you well. I thought I would be more elated to see Pigpen shuffled off the floor in disgrace but as it turns out, though I wont miss the aroma, I am now at a loss of comic content. Pigpen was a true source of humor, mostly at his expense without his knowledge but humor nonetheless.

So it is with forefinger and thumb firmly sealing my nostrils I wave farewell to my stinky, weed ravaged, tard-basket colleague; good by Pigpen may our paths never again converge.

Darwin who?

Humanity evolves, continually, whether it is part of the natural selection process, by some quirk of genetic mutation or even as the result of technological advancement we are different from the generation which preceded us.

Different isn’t always better.

Humanity prides its self for being the sole self invited occupant of the highest echelon of intelligence on this planet. We consider ourselves wise, with a greater awareness of the universe and smarter because unlike some of the creatures we consider lower then ourselves we don’t lick our privates in public… well most of us don’t at any rate. It is because of our self proclaimed status as “Smartest Thing Ever” and the fact that as I write this there is a man in a trench coat loitering outside this building’s main entrance chasing people about with a gate made haphazard by the wild hip gyrations he performs in the pursuit of his pray; I believe our species is becoming divergent.

Our species is splitting into two sub-species; who we shall name, for complete lack of wit on my part, Homo Tardiculus and Homo Smartypantzii. As Tardiculus devolves and Smartypantzii diverge we will begin to exhibit drastically different behavior patters. Where Smartypantzii continues to develop increasingly complex and meaningful linguistic capabilities, Tardiculus will gradually lose the ability to form coherent sentences, instead opting for simpler forms of auditory communication consisting of several partially inflected grunts and moans coupled with various hip thrusts and rude gestures.

Nowhere is this more apparent then my office. When the sweltering heat generated by the poorly maintained air conditioning system, which is routinely managed by a ragingly incompetent maintenance staff, is coupled with the various whistles, toots, grunts, moans and other sounds I am unable to describe with the English language the only missing element is overgrown foliage.

Some Monday mornings when I make the arduous journey from the elevator to my desk I must bring with me my trusty hunting spear for fear of being ravaged by the lightning quick Horn-tooting Bearnky (Ursus Tootleufigii) and his mate the dreaded Bitching Elephenoose (Loxodonta Loudmouthicus). These are not the only misshapen gentetic throw-backs that reside in my office, they are however the loudest. They are rivaled by Roadkill’s wheezing toots and Lurp Tard's manic heavy breathing. It seems that they all vie for the title of "King of the Wild" as when one starts with the jungle fever grunt-phony they all join in, growing louder and louder until all shreds of sanity are sapped from the floor.

The evolutionists believe in survival of the fittest, only if by "fit" you mean so annoying you cause all competitors to commit violent suicide thereby ensuring you're the sole surviving heir to the Earth, then yes, there are many incredibly "fit" people where I work.

More Money = More Better Good?

I was contacted this afternoon by a customer with a simple question, "What's the difference between your Enterprise class router and the Enterprise class router with Call Control?"

Simple enough. Maybe I wouldn't have called to confirm that the call control bundle has, well, CALL CONTROL while the regular does not... But ok, I'll bite.

"Well sir, the Enterprise Class router with Call Control features the ability to do Call Control. The regular bundle does not."

"So the Call control bundle has more features?"

"Well, yes. It has Call Control. Other than that it's the same."

"So it's better? More useful?"

"If you require Call Control, then yes, it's VERY useful. Do you require Call Control?"

"No, not at all."

"Then the Call Control bundle would just be a waste of money. You would be spending more to get a spare module that you wouldn't use at all. In the end it's useless hardware for you."

"But it has more features, right?"

"..........Yes, yes it does."

And people wonder why I drink in the morning...

Worst Case Scenario

Many people have plans for a worst case scenario. I for example have a 12 week program designed specifically to survive a zombie on slot.
Some people save money just in case there job goes under. Some stock pile food against Armageddon. Others keep a few extra pills from there prescription so that if everything goes south, they can just go south with it.
I do know one person though, who doesn't have a plan in case of a worst case scenario. His plan is to be the worst case scenario.
Not long ago, a discussion was had near me. And since it was in my general vicinity, the Noid was involved. He was asking if he could just leave early whenever he felt like it and our manager had told him no because that would constitute job abandonment since he would be leaving before his work was done. Noid wasn't content with this so he explained that he didn't need to be here the last 15 minutes since it was set aside as a clean up time and he had nothing to clean up. His manager then explained that he could just take away our clean up time since it seamed we didn't need it. This was a bit upsetting for most of the people in ear shot as we actually need this time to ensure that we don't get stuck at work by a last minute call. There was some complaints to the affect of smacking the Noid if he cost us our last 15 minutes of safety.
As anyone who has met the Noid knows, confrontation is not the easiest thing for him to handle. In an interesting moment of in site, he blurted out "Well, worst case scenario, I come in and shoot all of you." I then turned around and asked why the hell he would be shooting me. He answered that it was a general threat and that he would be selective of who he shot.
I could go on and on describing the following 15 minutes of how this conversation went and how management handled this. but I prefer to just end with this statement. It is common knowledge around work that Noid packs heat at all times. If I see him at work, I will start going home sick any time he gets upset.

Wolf and Winter Cold

I ended up cleaning part of the database today and came across an email address of leonidas@[company withheld].com
It was not long after that I imagined this exchange:

Subject: Earth and Water
From: messenger@persia.com
To: leonidas@[company withheld].com

Leonidas,

All King Xerxes asks is earth and water. Your position and the men that are below you may end up in a very bad position if you do not act quickly on this. We have a deadline here! Xerxes needs you to get everything together and respond in a timely manner. When you have your response ready be sure to attach the earthandwater document and CC your response to xerxes@persia.com. Be careful in how you word your response and how quickly you act on it. It could be your last email in your position!
-Persian Messenger

Subject: Re:Earth and Water
From: leonidas@[company withheld].com
To: messenger@persia.com

Persian,
THIS IS SPARTA!!!
-Leonidas

File Attached: kickedintoawell.exe


Yeah, I paraphrased the dialog. This idea was a weak one to begin with. I laughed anyway.

Secondhand smoke does not lead to secondhand coolness

I do not smoke. Never have. Don't ever want to. Why? Because I like not having heart disease, lung cancer, obesity, green skin, raspy voice, high blood pressure, etc, etc, etc.

That being said, I feel like my health has gone down considerably after three years of working at the Tard Center. Everyday I am forced to walk into the building past numerous (probably at least half of the people that actually work in the entire office building) people who are smoking on the sidewalk instead of over in the enclosed smoking shack. Now I have to admit that I sympathize somewhat with their not wanting to smoke in the shack seeing as how there is a giant enclose nuclear generator something-or-other literally inches away from the smoking shack, which has multiple signs and warning labels on it stating "Extremely Flammable!" That aside , I can't count the number of times I've wanted to pull the signs that read "No Smoking on the Sidewalk" out of the ground and use it to decapitate every moron on that sidewalk blowing smoke into my face as I try to hold my breath the entire way to the front door.

I really don't have anything against people who want to smoke. But really the fact that it has been clinically proven that second-hand smoke leads to just as much illness as first hand smoke does is not really good news to me and I prefer that if you do choose to smoke you at least have the decency not to kill everyone else around you. And seeing as how the fat security wenches just sit inside at their useless desk flirting with their useless white trash boyfriends all day aren't going to ever do anything about it the only alternative is either spree killing or gas mask. Unfortunately I don't have the balls for a spree killing nor the resources for the gas mask so I am pretty much screwed. Damn you inconsiderate smokers! Damn you all to hellfire!

WoW, just WoW.

One of the first people that I met when I began this job was a person we'll dub as "WoW Lady".
In this case, "WoW" stands for *flinch* World of Warcraft.
No offense to gamers (I'm not one myself) but I simply cannot stand hearing talk about WoW.
It bores and pains me.
Back on track. WoW Lady is first and foremost obsessed with WoW. Every third sentence out of her mouth is, "The other night my daughter and I were on Mal-Ganis..."
It's mind numbing.
To make matters worse WoW Lady suffered a stroke some time ago. This causes her speech to be slow, run together, slurred, and loud. That means that the above sentence sounds more like "THEOTHSER NIGHT MY DAUGHTERRN I WERE ON MAL-GANS..." This also makes her laugh sound more forced and deafening... like a 5 year old pretending to REALLY enjoy something. There's the short pause, followed by a boisterous "AHA HA HA HA HA HA HA"
It's a headache wrapped in an aneurysm.
The final nail in the coffin is that WoW Lady isn't the most "informed" person and tends to like to argue points that she has no real knowledge of.
Thinking about it, that's most of the employees...
Anyway. I do my very best to stay out of conversations about religion or politics here at work. With my mindset it would only lead to my incarceration.
WoW Lady has been the only person to successfully draw me into arguments about both topics.

WoW Lady used to sit behind me. I would listen to her slow trainwreck of a speech as she spoke to customers, "THANK YOUFER CALL ING [COMPANY NAME WITHHELD] RE SELLERS AAAAANNNNNNNDDDDDDD DLERS. HOWCN I HE LP YOU?"
The AND is what killed me. Rage would fill me each time.
A time came about when the people around me began to discuss Christian doctrine and theology.
This could obviously only lead to fun times. I faced forward and attempted to shut them out (no small task). The the ball dropped. The big one.
"THE WORST PART ISHAT THE JEWS CRUCIF IED 'IM."
......
Wait. Wait. Did WoW Lady just say that the Jews were the ones to crucify Jesus?
What the hell?!

I took a deep breath and steadied my nerves. This was going to hurt. "Wait wait wait. The Jews did not crucify Jesus. Jesus was crucified by the Romans as ordered by Pontius Pilate. There are those that argue that the Jews betrayed him but even then the argument tends to be viewed as antisemitic rhetoric."
WoW Lady didn't wait a heartbeat, she jumped down my throat, "THEJEWS WEhhRE THE ONES SS TH HAT KILLED JESUS!"
Luckily, we had a few theologically versed people nearby that certainly didn't want to see this go any farther. Even with other people of her faith telling her that it was not anyone of Judaic faith that nailed her messiah to the cross she still pushed back. I made it a point to go back to reading webcomics and ignoring the conversation for worry of becoming very angry.
If you're curious as to my religious beliefs, let me put it this way: I have none.

The political argument went something akin to "WE WOUhhLDN'T BEIN IRAQ IF CLINTN HAD GO-ONE IN AND FINISHhhED THE JOB."
The argument that she had presented for her standpoint lacked any human sense of logic. I may be misquoting it here. Suffice it to say that it made as much sense as, "If it weren't for Twinkies no one would be overweight." Ok, MAYBE I see what you're trying to say... but not really.
I pulled up my bootstraps and jumped right on in, attempting to point out what was questionable with the statement. Oddly, she went defensive, "I DO ON'T EVEN WANT TO AhhRGUE ABOUIT! I DID"T EVEN BRING IT UP!"
I ended up angry not just because she was poorly informed, but also because she dodged an argument that she provoked. My thirst for pointing out the flaws in someone's logic would not be slaked.

The complaints against her don't just end with her thoughts and speech. No, no. There is a distinct issue at hand here. She has been with the company for a few years. For those years she was focused on wireless technologies. Without getting too technical I will attempt to recount some of the simple but obvious mistakes she's made:
A) Not knowing what WPA is. Not the acronym. No, she didn't know what it was.
B) Not knowing that WPA is standard on SEVERAL products that she deals with
C) Not knowing that different countries have different channels on which a wireless access point can operate. Better put, she thought the FCC regulated the WHOLE WORLD.

On occasions when she was corrected on something that was a mistake (like when I informed her that, yes, the firewall that her customer was looking at CAN indeed act as a simple router) she would still go on to make the same mistake again (less than 48 hours later she informed another customer that the firewall I mentioned earlier couldn't do any routing).
Customers would complain about her nature and attitude. Everyday would have at least three calls in which she would interrupt and hassle the customer. "TOM! TOM! HEY! BEQUIET FER A SEC OND! IIIII'M TRYING TO EX PLAIhhN IT TO YOU!"
Inevitably these calls would end with her commenting that the caller was a jerk. She would then attempt to tell everyone around her why she felt he was "a jerk". It didn't take long before everyone learned that after WoW Lady says, "I HATE CUSTOMERS LIKE THAT," you don't ask why... unless of course you really enjoy hearing the same story several times a day at volumes that cause hemorrhaging.

Eventually WoW Lady was moved to a different technology focus and consequently a different part of the floor. This means that I no longer get drawn into arguments or seethe with anger at her handling of her job due to mere proximity.

Unfortunately she's loud enough that I can still hear here all the way over here.

Not [Now], Not [Here]

There are times when I get tapped to assign user IDs to the company they belong to in our database. Often this is simple. We grab the email address of the user and a quick glance results in, "Oh, I know this domain! It belongs to company XXXXXXXX. I can put him right here!"
Others are not as easy. There is an over abundance of people here that simply CANNOT SPELL.
My major gripe, however, is formatting.
When a user profile is added, the employee is supposed to make notes as to how they relate to us.
It's generally very simple. If the user works for a company partnered with us, they simply need to indicate the company name or the partner type. No big deal.
If the user provides an email address that isn't tied to a company or a private domain (these can be addresses like xxxx@gmail.com, @yahoo.com, @aol.com, etc.) then the note is simple:
"Not a partner."
It doesn't matter if the user tells you he's the Captain of Outer Space. Any of the open registration email addresses are not acknowledged as partners, period.
If the customer IS part of a partner company but we have yet to add their company to the database, then the note should read:
"Add Partner Organization" followed by basic information.
Simple enough, right?
Even with the simple if/then set up we have going, my "peers" continually fail to handle the basics.
Combing through the new user IDs I stumble across xxx@aol.com and xxx@yahoo.com with notes saying "Add Partner Organization: Idiot Steve's Super Computing Mega Warehouse".
NO! WRONG! BAD!
Not only have they failed to do the most basic of research, they didn't even follow the most simple of instructions.
Even with the notes a little bit jumbled, I can generally breeze through.
The real problem comes with people that have their own note formating:
"Customer says he's a partner and that his company is in the database but I couldn't find it so maybe he's not a partner. He did say that he had just gotten partner status so maybe he just needs to wait a bit longer to actually show up in the database. Or maybe I spelled it wrong but he says he KNOWS that he's a partner. One time I had someone else call in who said they were a partner..."
It goes on and on.
Generally the real kicker comes when I check the email address after reading their Dickensian notation:
xxxxxxx@yahoo.com

Mouth Shut, Eyes Front!

There are two circumstances in this world where you will find lines of men staring silently forward, the first is the military when drill is called you shut your face, stair straight forward and draw as little attention to yourself as possible. The second is the men's public restroom.

Implemented in the latter years of the 19^th century the men's lavatory is designed to facilitate the expulsion of bodily waste and as a forum for posting your bitchy ex-girlfriend's cell phone number for as many psychopathic stalkers to see as possible. This development in human excrement management was not intended in anyway for talking or making noises of any kind.

I have extremely unfortunate timing when it comes to restroom breaks at work. It seems that nearly every time I proceed that direction someone else in my immediate vicinity has the same idea. Thus it appears that I stalk my fellow employees to the rest room. Not being a silver lining kind of guy but nevertheless able to detect when a fortuitous circumstance presents itself, should I ever decide to begin a career as a creepy stalker of public restroom visitors I wont have to do much.

Today on a trip to the facilities I was preceded by White Trash. He entered the lavatory moments before I tossing me the same unsettled look my other fellow employees do when I nonchalantly, whistling all the while, trail them into the head. He entered the first stall and I approached the urinal. This is where I usually slip into a semi-controlled catatonic state intended to protect me from those people that are unfamiliar with men's restroom etiquette. This time before I could the strangest sound began to emanate from my urinating cohabitant of this public john. The noise increased in volume and strangeness until White Trash began sounding like a wounded wilder beast being humped by a rhythmically challenged sea lion. With an alacrity born of Thalassophobia I made a hasty retreat to my relatively sea-animal proof cubical.

White Trash seems to no longer be content in breaking the rules of polite society and professionalism now he assaults one of the most sacred rule sets of mankind, as was seen on the original Ten Commandments before they were revised to accommodate the unrelenting laziness of man; “Thou Shalt not talk or make animal nosies in the public restroom!”

Charlton Heston is spinning in his grave...

This is neither the time nor the place.

As many people who work for a living are aware, there is a time and a place for many things. But not, as the old saying goes, for everything.

Examples of things that could be appropriate are telling a person that you have pictures to send them. The wrong time to do this is just before you are arrested for child porn.
Asking someone to help you learn your new job is fine, but not when they were also a candidate for it.
I can not think of a single time that shouting "Bob's favorite sin is sodomy!" could ever be appropriate.
Complaining that you are over worked is a common activity, but choose your audience wisely. The person you whine to may be the person cleaning up your mess from the work you are avoiding.
Mentioning that it looks like you beat your wife in that picture may seem like a funny thing to say, but this may be a touchy subject even in the best of times.
The lunch room was not intended for flashing people you just met.
When someone has just admitted to finding out they have cancer, do not ask them if that is even a real disease.

There are many personal topics that should not be brought up in the work place. The number of abortions you have payed for is one. They fact that you would have euthanized your co-workers child is another. Anything that involves a turkey baster is borderline.

The restroom at work is generally considered to be no-mans land for any discussion. I understand that you enjoy your video games. My genitals do not. They don't even care. Your informing me of the new game you are buying, in fact, frightens them greatly. So please Pigpen, when you talk to someone, look around you. If it smells of excrement, this is not a good area to keep someone occupied.

In Case of Emergency

Thanks to my neighbor FC, you are now semi-familiar with Professor Pointless. I will refer to him for the sake of this post as “the Professor”. I sit very close to the Professor, closer than anyone regarding this Blog. I find that this is a rather unfortunate situation, as I am daily disgusted and horrified, confused and dazed as to the behaviors of the Professor.

The Professor is not one to follow many rules, but then again, I am not one either. However, I try my best to conceal the fact that I am not following rules. The Professor does not. He very much wants to make his presence known to the floor, however, quite frankly, none of us really care for him.

Let me start with one thing you will need to know to truly understand this post. We on the call floor have what I would like to refer to as an emergency phone and it is for, you may have already guessed, emergencies only. For example: I have the number for the emergency phone, but have never given it to anyone I know, since I highly doubt there will be such a dire emergency that my cell phone will not suffice. The Professor has a cell phone. I’ve heard the old man’s ring tone many times.

Today, was a regular work day. Until a co-worker comes barreling down the row with the emergency phone in his hand. I immediately turn to the Professor. He is on a call. It happens sometime when you work in a call center. He then promptly puts his customer on hold and answers the phone. The conversation went something like this:

The Professor: Hello son… I was going to call you when I got off work. I’m picking you up at 5:15… HAHA (I guess assumed son said something amusing)… Tell Samantha hello for me… Okay bye.

I realized that this was not an emergency at all, but a mere son trying to get a hold of his father. Sweet and nice, but this is not the true use of the emergency phone. Approximately 5 minutes pass when a different co-worker comes barreling down the row with the same phone and I think to myself “not again…” but sure enough there was another emergency that the Professor was needed. This time, however, the co-worker noticed he was still on the call and quickly took a message. Much to the dismay of the caller and to the Professor, I’m sure.

I am unsure why today, this act of complete disregard for the emergency phone really bugged the core of me. I will probably never know. All I hope for is that one day, there really will be an emergency that require the Professor, and since the Professor has called “emergency wolf” more times than I can count, someone will just merely take a message. I hope that someone can be me.