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.

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.

Pigpen says, "Hey dude!"

Working in the networking industry there is an expectation of professionalism. This is more then just an expectation here it is a requirement. Many new employees are counseled on this when they fail to use proper language on the phone. Now don't get me wrong this isn't to say we are expected to adhere to the standards of a synthetic of a voice response system but there are certain things that will not be allowed to slide.

Pigpen is a fellow phone jockey, what he lacks in intelligence he makes up for in aroma so strong that he has his own set of cartoon-esque stink lines which follow him about. Pigpen embodies a biological anomaly as he has been artificially aged approximately three decades from continued exposure to pot clouds so dense it could be sold to little pot-heads as “potton candy.” Pigpen takes every opportunity he can to point out just how damaged the thought and speech centers of his brain have become and the exact marijuana and alcohol cocktail necessary recreate the degradation, in case anyone wants to join him in his self-induced walking oblivion.

This afternoon I overhear Pigpen providing his usual absolutely incorrect information to the customer, so I send him an IM to correct his mistake and he says to the caller, "hold up noz, I'm gettin' new infoz." I have no clue what "noz," if indeed I am spelling it correctly, means but I am fairly certain that it is a word only crack-jacked surfer bums can understand. His usage of "unconventional" language continues throughout the call as does the stream of incorrect information. When the call comes to its conclusion rather then ending it with the standard salutation he says, "laterz bra!" Every time Pigpen answers the phone my company's client loses business.

Shortly after Pigpen finishes his call I get and IM from Fieldtrip who consequently is on a cross country fieldtrip of his own; our conversation is as follows:

Fieldtrip: Hey what's up?

Goodall: Nada, but Pigpen isn't going to be here when you get back.

Fieldtrip: Terminus?

Goodall: Negative, on a COMPLETELY unrelated note, I need to you alibi me.

Fieldtrip: I'll testify that on the date and time in question you an I were on the other side of town rescuing the puppies of the elderly-infirmed from their once beautiful old folks home run by a multi-denomination habit of nuns, whom we also rescued from said burning building.

Now I'm not a violent person, but somewhere in some cold, snow covered, backwater town on the boarder of Minnesota and Hell there's a wood chipper hungry for Pigpen and his fellow tards.