The Bastard Operator From Hell
As the BOFH explains, dummies don't grow on trees, it takes years of training ...
"Hello. Is that Network Support?" the user asks over hands-free.
I remove our topological LAN Viewing equipment (VR Glasses) and disconnect from our powerful network analysis server (VR Tank-Combat Games Machine) and direct my attention to the caller.
Caller-Id indicates a user at beancounter central is on the line.
"Yes, this is network support," I reply.
"Oh. I have a problem with FTP-ing from an Internet ftp server in Brussels. It keeps dropping my connection just after I've downloaded a megabyte."
The PFY looks over to me with a cheesy grin and scribbles out a hasty message: "TODAY'S LIMIT 1024K" and points at his packet filter software.
He's getting good.
"Ah yes," I say, flicking over the page on my excuse calendar, "We're getting a lot of this at the moment. We believe it's due to...Network Destabilisation from Low Voltage Fluorescent Lamp Spikes."
"Well, when a fluorescent lamp starts, it sends a spike back down the power cable which in turn induces an interference current in network cabling nearby. In low voltage circuits this effect is magnified."
>DUMMY MODE ON<
[From the bastard Glossary:
DUMMY MODE, n. The mode in which a user, overcome by technical terms, will believe, and/or do, anything he or she is told.]
"DUH-HUH. So what do I do?"
[Told you so.]
"Well, today nothing, as there's obviously something generating spikes. How big was the file you wanted?"
"About 1.6 Megs"
I scribble: "TOMORROW'S LIMIT 1.59 MEGS" and pass it to the PFY.
"Well," I respond, "are there any low-voltage fluorescent tubes on your floor?"
"I don't know."
"Well, they'll be smallish, bar-like lights - usually inside signs or displays."
"THE FIRE EXIT SIGNS!!" my caller shouts from the end of the garden path he's been led down.
"Of course!" I cry, sharing his enthusiasm. "They're right above doorways, which is where our cable is fed. Well, there's probably nothing you can do about it now, as we can't refeed our network cabling, I'm sorry,"
"What about if we moved the exit signs?"
"Oh, I'm afraid WE couldn't do that, even if we had the time."
"No, we simply do not have the time to remove the cable duct covers, slide the exit signs along the duct for a couple of yards to get them away from the data cables, then replace the covers in the newly vacated space for every exit sign on your floor."
"Oh" he replies, mind ticking over almost audibly. "Never mind then. I'll just try bringing the file across in pieces then."
I hang up then cross out the 1024K on the PFY's bit of paper and put 50K in its place, nodding to him to action it.
"He won't do it you know..." the PFY says, so little faith in one so young.
"10 Quid?" I ask.
"You're on," he says, thinking naive "easy money" thoughts.
The next morning comes and I stash a crisp new 10 pound note in my wallet with a smug grin. The PFY notes with disgust the repositioning of the Exit signs halfway along the walls, well clear of the "network cabling" in the doorways.
"Never underestimate the desperation of a user," I mention, furthering his education once more.
To take his mind off it, I get him to install the new 'Infra Red Wireless LAN Transceivers' (infra-red cameras), in the floors mentioned and drop some cable boxes around the place so it looks like we're going to do something.
Later that afternoon, Network Control is crammed to capacity with a dozen or so fellow network engineers from other companies.
"You all know the rules" I state, "20 quid a player, except for the PFY and I, who, as host, get first pick of a free player"
Nods all round as the PFY takes the bets and we switch on the gaming screens. Once the choosing of players is complete, we're ready to go.
"Let the game commence!" I shout, flicking the switch to cut the lights to Beancounter central and its stairwells. I then activate the fire alarms.
"The person whose player is the first to the safety of a stairwell, takes the pool!"
Through the infrared monitor we watch the pandemonium break out, as in the darkness, everyone runs for apparent safety.
The toll of the newly shifted exit signs is fairly high and will probably leave an impression on the wall that only a thick coat of plaster will put right.
Next on the obstacle list (for the smarter contestants) are the boxes of cable the PFY left randomly in the cubicle "corridors" earlier on.
"It's like a multi-ball game of pinball down there!" the PFY cries watching in disbelief.
Ten minutes later I'm counting my winnings - of course I did back the mover of the signs in the first place....
And they say there's no money in networking any more.
Previous : The BOFH becomes a contract killer ...
Next : The BOFH attempts some artistic expenses ...
Back to The Bastard Menu.