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                     TThhee BBaassttaarrdd OOppeerraattoorr FFrroomm HHeellll
TThhee BBaassttaarrdd OOppeerraattoorr FFrroomm HHeellll sseennsseess ssoommeetthhiinngg ffiisshhyy aanndd ccaassttss hhiiss nneett
                                  ......
========================================================================
Something's a little fishy in the department. I recognise the signs when
I reach my floor - the air of restrained anticipation.
First stop, my internal mail slot - bombshells usually get placed there
by the boss prior to him scuttling to the relative safety of his office.
Naivety knows no bounds.
Sure enough, there's a bombshell measuring on the red-tape Richter
scale.
In an effort to standardise a coherent future direction, the bosses have
decided to appoint a 'Director of Future Planning'. Couldn't be fishier
if it came with tartare sauce.
Sure enough Jeremy, the appointee, has all the initiative and forward
thinking of wheel-clamps, and was recently responsible for purchasing 10
multi-mode analogue recording devices for a bargain price of �6,000. The
most expensive box of pencils in the history of the company ...
Unless I'm very much mistaken this is yet another salvo in the 'bean
counters versus techies' war. I read further and discover that all
purchases have to be approved by the DFP to ensure that they conform to
the direction the company has chosen for its future ...
I get two weeks' respite before the you-know-what hits the fan with a
knock at my door. Jeremy enters.
"Ah, Simon, just a couple of points," he says. "This wireless LAN stuff.
You realise that we're not equipped to deal with this just yet?"
"In what way?" I ask. "Not having several open-plan work areas that are
hell to cable - you know, like the WP pool, the PR offices - or not
having a single free AUI connector unless we unplug the unused terminal
servers?"
"Oh. Ah. Well, no, not that exactly, it's just that according to my
calculations ..."
He bashes a couple of figures into his personal organiser, an item that
appears to have been distributed far and wide amongst the upper
echelons, a move no-doubt designed to cover up for the stupidity of a
prior purchase.
"... we would be spending almost �300 per multi-peater more than we need
to if we buy from our current supplier."
"Ah. Our current supplier of ... analogue recording devices?" I ask.
He pretends to ignore me. "No, our current supplier of personal
organisers. And we have the added bonus of being able to transmit and
receive information from the organisers through them which is not
available on any other equipment."
He toddles off leaving me feeling that the outcome was: "Future
Planning, 1, Simon, nil", so quick as I can, I bash out a memo about the
potential security implications of uploads and downloads taking place
from these devices. There's a rumour of a takeover flying about and the
last thing we want is sensitive data being intercepted.
My warnings fall on deaf ears, the marketing has already been done in
secret and accepted as gospel. Not good.
The kit duly arrives and I reluctantly install it. However, the manual
is most instructive on the upload and download features, and to remain
an interested party, I read it ...
A week later I'm listening to a boardroom conversation, as is my wont.
It really was an amazing coincidence that a couple of highly sensitive
microphones ended up being placed near the panel when the room was
recabled recently.
"Well, quite frankly, I'm tired of it all," a manager whines.
"Why?" Jeremy asks, a little stress registering on my accompanying voice
analysis software.
"The bloody thing keeps turning itself on in the middle of the night and
ringing an alert for my wife's birthday, which was three weeks ago. I
can't put it in the lounge because it switches my TV on now it's learnt
the controls like you suggested. And, if that's not bad enough, it keeps
switching the bloody thing off just before Inspector Morse finds out who
the killer is!"
"Mine does that too," another boss adds.
"Mine added one to the street numbers of all my addresses," yet another
voice announces.
"You think that's bad," another sniffles, "mine rang an alarm and
displayed 'Dinner with Trudi' with three stars by her name one night
when my wife was using it. I don't even know a Trudi!! But I've got
plenty of time to find one now!"
"These are obviously teething problems," my ex-nemesis oozes.
"I'm sure it's just some redundant information"
I tap away at my keyboard and a chime is heard from the boardroom.
"Good Lord!" a voice exclaims. "Mines just told me to ring the doctor
about the HIV results!!"
"I think we've heard enough," the CEO interrupts.
"Until further notice, we're withdrawing these devices from use. Thank
you gentlemen. Jeremy - a word."
I listen on while Jeremy is promoted to another position of
responsibility - head window cleaner. Only, we have contractors to do
that ...
A pity really. Still, it doesn't pay to dwell.
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