💾 Archived View for clemat.is › saccophore › library › ebooks › bofh › newbofh › bofh3jul.txt captured on 2021-12-17 at 13:26:06.
⬅️ Previous capture (2021-12-03)
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It's a balmy mid-morning when the PFY slips back into the offices with
this morning's purchase following my specific instructions.
"One finely crafted plastic electric kettle, with safety cutout to
prevent element burnout," I say, smiling at the perfection of my plan.
"But we've got a coffee and tea maker!" he cries.
Filling the jug from the water fountain I shake my head. "What happens
every summer?" I ask.
"It gets hot?" he guesses.
"Correct. And our air conditioning system does what?"
"Fails."
"And we have to what?" I ask.
"Sit in the comms room all day."
"Correct. Grab the variable step-down transformer and meet me in the
comms room."
He does as I bid and moments later I've set the variac at five volts,
plugged the jug into it, and hidden the lot under a sub-floor
ventilation grill.
"Your mission, should you choose to accept it - you don't have a choice
by the way, it's just an expression - is to keep this jug topped up
while increasing the voltage by five volts a day."
I take him over to a wall thermostat and pull the cover off.
"Step 2, turn the set screw on all the thermostats anti-clockwise by
five degrees every day, making the air-con think it's getting cooler in
here. Now - any questions?"
"Yeah, what happens when the variable transformer gets up to 200 volts?"
"Twenty quid says the jug won't get past 50."
"You're on!" the PFY gasps, seeking easy money.
"And no cheating by not filling the jug!" I add, knowing his nature.
The bet agreed, I busy myself on network load testing for a few days.
When I'm sick of networked Doom-II, I ring the boss up and tell him
about the air-con problems in the comms room. True to form, he wanders
around the comms room tapping the thermostats and sniffing the air for
moisture. Exhausting his technical repertoire, he calls in some heating
professionals who inform him that our measurements are OK.
"You'll need another unit," the technician tells the boss. "Your current
ones look to be overloaded."
"I told the boss last summer that this was going to happen," I add, "but
he did nothing about it and now look what's happening."
The slight throwing down of the gauntlet here will set his mood for the
entire event. He probably suspects something is up but can't think of
what it is and is desperate to thwart me - especially with my recent UPS
fan victory.
"Yes, well, we'll have to put another unit in, but where..." he smiles
realising the prime location right in front of his eyes. "What about
there?" he asks, pointing to the wall between the comms room and the
networks room.
"Not a good idea," the heating tech says, "the heat exchanger exhaust
would make the room behind there a sweatbox."
"Well it doesn't look like there are any viable alternatives," the boss
replies smugly.
"What about over there?" I ask, pointing to a gap between air
conditioners in the opposite wall.
"No can do," the boss chimes in "too many units there already which
would make the building structurally unsafe."
Something tells me he's done his homework on this one.
"So that wall it is," he smiles, gleefully indicating an area which
would be right between my desk and the PFY's.
The PFY's look of horror speaks volumes.
Two weeks later, the control room is getting a tad uncomfortable,
especially since someone authorised our windows to be riveted shut.
Visitors are at an all time low, with only the boss stopping behind the
double-glazed viewing window to gloat every day or so.
Until D-Day that is.
The PFY and I are in exceptionally early to take my plan through to
completion. Completion being removing the air-con from its mounting,
turning it, and slipping it back in.
"The boss is bound to notice!" the PFY cries.
"He doesn't come in here any more - no-one does," I reply, soothing his
fears.
"But he does go through the back way to the comms room and he'll see the
back of the unit."
"Not when you swap the covers he won't."
"That won't fool him!"
"I believe it will - he only found out I swapped the covers of the fax
machine and the shredder the other day. Pity the 'shredder' autodialled
the newspapers with that expenditure blowout report of the other day.
Tabloids can be so irresponsible."
"What did the boss do when he found out?"
"What do you think? Admit he was responsible for making us a laughing
stock? Now I've got a quick job for you."
"What is it?"
"Redo your time sheets - they were his last 'fax'."
"You bastard!"
"In the flesh, on the prowl, and waiting for my 20 quid..."
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