💾 Archived View for clemat.is › saccophore › library › ebooks › bofh › newbofh › bofh9oct.txt captured on 2021-12-03 at 14:04:38.
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PPooiinntt ssccoorriinngg oovveerr nneettwwoorrkk eeqquuiippmmeenntt bblluunnddeerrss sseeeess tthhee PPFFYY bbaattttlliinngg iitt
oouutt wwiitthh tthhee BBOOFFHH ......
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"I believe that's another �500 down the toilet and another two points
for me," the pimply-faced-youth gloats, adding another tick to the
lengthening line in his favour.
True, a competition to see who can destroy the most equipment in a week
was a little childish, but it's been slow recently and experimentation
is good on-the-job training. We play for the usual stakes, a pint at the
pub across town.
"What was it?" I asked, effecting a slight interest.
"I told a user that his problem was power leakage in getting electricity
to the sixth floor. The excuse calendar gave me the idea and I worked
back from there. Told him the voltage was much lower when it got to his
room, so he should ..."
"Switch his PC to 115 Volts," I finish tiredly.
"Was there something wrong with that?" he asks.
"Not per se. But remember our job isn't really to destroy equipment or
frighten the daylights out of our users. That's an added bonus in our
selflessly devoted lives as technical support persons. Our job is to
ensure the smooth running of our networking subsystem."
"By eliminating users on it."
"Show me an Ethernet collision and I'll show you a network that could do
with one user fewer," I reply.
"But you're always going to have collisions!"
"And I'm always going to be devoted to network performance enhancement."
"Whilst making a truckload of dosh on the side," the PFY chips in.
"Not necessarily. The truckload of dosh is also an incidental bonus. I
encourage 'daily bonuses' because a happy worker is a safe worker, and a
safe worker is a good worker."
"For instance, last week when I mailed the video tape of what occurred
in the lift at 11.17pm the previous Friday to one of the parties
concerned. Upon receipt of a large envelope of unmarked bills from that
person, I, as a happy worker, then configured a router in record time.
If I'd had things on my mind that displeased me, I may not have
completed the job quite so well ..."
"So why did you play the tape on the lunch room share price monitor the
next day?"
"Strictly for the good of the company. You saw how much people enjoyed
it. They were cheerful and happy, and therefore more productive later
that day."
"And the three people concerned?"
"They, being not so cheery, resigned shortly thereafter, proving once
again that this is a workplace for happy and productive persons."
"Well, you're still miles behind," he gloats again, flashing the score
sheet.
"So what's the score then?"
He counts feverishly and comes back with "40 to nine - to me".
"So, I'm chasing a 26 point lead."
"No, 31!" he corrects.
"Ah, no, 26," I repeat, pushing the boss's laptop off the desk onto the
floor and jumping on it.
"That's hardly fair!" he cries.
"Life's not fair," I reply. "But the root password helps."
All this does not disguise the fact that I'm waay behind, which concerns
me. In fact, there's only 32 minutes between me and having to say the
words "Lager shandy", which the PFY doesn't normally drink, but would,
just this once, to make me look bad in front of the bar staff and
regulars.
With all this at stake, I crash a router and answer the next call.
"Hello?" the voice on the phone asks nervously.
"What seems to be the problem?" I ask.
"It's our machines, they've all hung."
"Yes, it'll be Power Leakage from Heat Displaced Breaker Elements."
>DUMMY MODE ON<
"Ah-huh ... What do I do?"
"Well, you'll have to call the service electrician to replace the
service circuit breaker for the power points along your side of the
office."
"But we've got urgent work on!"
"Well, I shouldn't really tell you this ..." I whisper.
"What?" the user asks, hooked.
"Well, you can manually reset the displaced elements."
"How?" he gushes, envisaging fame, fortune and promotion opportunities.
"Just go to the powerbox by the stairwell and flick the switch with the
same number as your floor box on and off about 20 times, as quick as you
can."
The PFY looks on loathingly. Sure enough, 10 minutes later the full
ramifications of my advice have been revealed; I'm only 2 points behind
... which is where I remain until 5pm when the PFY accompanies me to the
tube station.
"Some people just haven't got it," he chirps smugly.
His good humour is unbearable, but luckily only lasts until our tube
train whistles in and I nudge his laptop bag onto the rails.
"Woopsy!", I say, as I reveal the real time and my part in the clock
tampering: "One minute too ... I guess that's a beer you owe me ..."
"You BASTARD!" he says, as the sweet smell of victory fades.
"Chalk it up to the cost of education," I say. "And I hope you'll enjoy
that lager shandy ..."
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