💾 Archived View for clemat.is › saccophore › library › ebooks › bofh › newbofh › bofh29may.txt captured on 2022-01-08 at 14:13:32.

View Raw

More Information

⬅️ Previous capture (2021-12-03)

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

                     TThhee BBaassttaarrdd OOppeerraattoorr FFrroomm HHeellll
  TThhee SSoouutthh ooff FFrraannccee bbeecckkoonnss ffoorr tthhee BBOOFFHH uunnddeerr tthhee gguuiissee ooff ''NNeettwwoorrkk
                     PPrrooffeessssiioonnaall ooff tthhee YYeeaarr'' ......
========================================================================
It's a quiet day in the office. Perhaps it's got something to do with me
relocating the helpdesk to the recently-vacated Boss's office and
accidentally putting an axe fifty-three times through the phone cables
down that corridor. Forget using pink noise tapes for relaxation,
there's nothing quite like the distant sound of phones being slammed
frustratedly into cradles to help a BOFH chill out. Our telecomms system
is in a shocking state; must be down to all the users taking out their
anger on the handsets.
I make sure the door's closed and electrified appropriately (in case any
of the braver users get the rash urge to come round in person), and
settle down with my reading material.
Normally, this is the time to catch up on those Dutch magazines that
were inadvertently delivered to the back door a couple of months ago -
and which seem to have been delivered equally inadvertently ever since.
You wouldn't believe that the same mistake could be made again and
again, would you? Someone, though, seems to have found my private stash,
since it appears to have grown legs. I suspect it's my PFY, as he's been
walking around recently with a knowing smile on his face. He'll soon
learn the perils of being nosey when I've figured out just what do do
with the electric stapler, though. Anyway, in the meantime, I'm stuck
with reading networking magazines.
Pausing only to fill in a 'please send a barmy UPS salesman to see me'
form in the name of the guy from accounts who cut me up in the car park
this morning, I start to wade through the surprisingly tall stack of
unopened networking mags. One item catches my eye, though: the
Networking Professional of the Year award. I laugh inwardly - it'll
probably be won by some sad anorak who spends his weekends up to his
ears in UTP, spends his evenings retrieving lost files from users' PCs,
and who earns crap wages and no gratitude. I read on, however : "...
presented at a special ceremony at l'Hotel Ambassadeur in the south of
France"
Ah, now, let's not be too hasty. There is, naturally, a lot to be said
for the unsung heroes of the networking world. At least that's the line
I'll use when I try to persuade the CEO to let me enter the competition.
Up in the CEO's office, the man himself stares at me glassy-eyed for
about a minute. The words finally emerge in a croak. "YOU want to put in
for the Network Professional of the Year?"
"That's right. Just think of the credit I'd bring to the company"
"I'm thinking of the bad publicity you'd bring to the company"
"That's not very nice!" I adopt my most aggrieved expression, combined
with my most innocent tone of voice. "And after all I've done for this
company, too"
"Don't you mean '_TO_ this company'?" The CEO looks at me and starts
reading from the entry form. "Helpful to his/her superiors? You've gone
through five bosses in the last year!"
"So I've had to cope with five different working methods - it's a much
more demanding part to play. I think it demonstrates great flexibility."
"But you're responsible for all of them leaving!!"
"Coincidence... they all seem to remember another job offer somewhere
else. Perhaps you ought to look at your working conditions and
salaries", I suggest slyly.
"Perhaps I ought to consider whether I need as many support staff as I
do"
Ouch. That was a little below the belt. Oh well ...
"Perhaps the Inland Revenue might find out about the secret account that
was mysteriously set up on a computer outside the main system."
The CEO reddens and suddenly seems to find his blotter fascinating. He
recovers slightly and reads on from my form.
"And what about this," the CEO is almost shouting now. "A good team
player"?
"Yes. Naturally I'd expect my pimply faced assistant to be included in
the entry. As a good team player, I'd expect members of the team to be
included."
"But he's a psychopath!"
"So? Are you going to hold that against him? It's not very supportive of
you. I personally think the climate in the south of France will do
wonders for his temperament and the experience of going to such an event
will do wonders for his social skills."
"There'll be a diplomatic incident!"
The CEO carries on reading. "Nominations for the awards must be
accompanied by three signed endorsements by the nominee's colleagues."
He paused; "There's no-one here who would agree to sign such a
statement. They all hate you."
"So I can enter the award if I can get the form signed?"
"If you can find three of our employees who will sign it, you can enter.
But I'm only saying that because I know nobody here will sign it". He
exits, laughing silently to himself.
A miracle, eh? Nothing's impossible in the world of networking, as I
never tire of telling users whose hard disks have been miraculously
wiped clean. After all, who said getting someone's signature on a form
actually needed them to write it ...
TToo bbee ccoonnttiinnuueedd ......
========================================================================
              Previous : _T_h_e_ _B_O_F_H_ _a_n_d_ _t_h_e_ _P_F_Y_'_s_ _r_a_i_s_e_ _._._.
               Next : _T_h_e_ _B_O_F_H_ _w_i_n_s_ _t_h_e_ _d_a_y_ _i_n_ _F_r_a_n_c_e_ _._._.
                       Back to _T_h_e_ _B_a_s_t_a_r_d_ _M_e_n_u.