90 lines
3.2 KiB
Plaintext
90 lines
3.2 KiB
Plaintext
BASTARD OPERATOR FROM HELL #3
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So I'm working so hard I barely have time to drive into town and watch a movie
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before I told people their printing will be ready. The queue's WAAAAY too
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long to have everything printed (and sorted) by the time I told them, so I
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kill all the small jobs so there's only 2 left and I can sort them in no time.
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Then, after the movie, (which was one of those slack Bertolucci ones that takes
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about 3 hours till the main character is killed off in a visionary experience)
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I get back and clear the printouts.
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There's about 50 people waiting outside and I've got two printouts. That's
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about average for me. I thought I'd killed more tho. Anyway, I put out
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the printouts and walk slooowly inside, fingering the clipboard with "ACCOUNTS
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TO REMOVE" in big letters on the back. No-one says anything. As usual.
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. . .
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I'm sitting back in the Operations Armchair, watching the computer room
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closed circuit TV, which just happens to be connected to the frame-grabber's
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Video player (sent off for repair, due back sometime in '94) when the phone
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rings. That must be the 2nd time today, and it's really starting to get to
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me!
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"Yes?" I say, pausing the picture.
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"I've accidentally deleted my C.V!" the voice at the other end of the line
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says.
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"You have? What was your username?"
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He tells me. What the hell, I AM bored.
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"Ah no, you didn't delete it - I did."
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"What?"
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"I deleted it. It was full of shit! You didn't ever get more than a B- in
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any of your subjects!"
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"Huh?"
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"And that crap about being a foreign exchange student, that was your girlfriend
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and we both know it."
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"Huh?!!"
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"Your academic records. I checked them, you were lying.."
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"How did y.." He clicks. "It's you isn't it? THE BASTARD OPERATOR FROM HELL!"
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"In the flesh, on the phone and in your account.... You shouldn't have called
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you know. You especially shouldn't have given me your username.." >clickety<
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>click< "Neither should you have sent that mail to the System Manager telling
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him what you think of him in graphic terms..."
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"I didn't send any.."
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>clickety< >click<......
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"No, you didn't did you? But who can tell these days. Not to worry though,
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It'll all be over VERY soon.." >clickedy clikc< "..change my username back,
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and..."
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"b-b-b.." he blubs, like a stood-up date
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"Goodbye now" I say pleasantly, "you've got bags to pack and a life to start
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over..."
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I hang up.
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Two seconds later the red phone goes. I pick it up, it's the boss.
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He mumbles the username of the person I was just talking to, mentions something
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about a nasty mail message, and utters the words "You know what to do...", with
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the dots and everything.
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Later, inside the Municipal Energy Authority Computer, as I'm modifying the
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poor pleb's Energy Bill by several zeros, I can't help but think about what
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lapse of judgement - what act of heinous stupidity causes them to call.
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Then, even later, when I'm adding the poor pleb's photo image over the top
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of the FBI's online "MOST Wanted Armed and Dangerous, SHOOT ON SIGHT" offenders
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list, I realise, I'll probably never know; but life goes on.
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A couple of hours later, as I see the SWAT vehicle roll up outside the poor
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pleb's apartment I realise that for some, it just doesn't.
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But tommorrow is another day.
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spt@waikato.ac.nz (Simon Travaglia)
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