89 lines
3.4 KiB
Plaintext
89 lines
3.4 KiB
Plaintext
BASTARD OPERATOR FROM HELL #9
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I'm driving to work and I'm stuck behind this old guy, the classic slow driver
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from hell, whose car red-lines at 20 mph and can't take corners at more than
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5. I honk my horn but his hearing aid's probably turned way down to "whisper",
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so I'm stuck.
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I make a mental note of his license plate. In fact, I did that 60 times a
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minute for 15 and a half minutes. Oh dear.. oh dear.... Looks like another
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call to the DMV Database to register a vehicle as stolen by out of town arms
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dealers...
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I get to work, flick the excuse page over. "ELECTROMAGNETIC RADIATION FROM
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SATTELLITE DEBRIS". Fair enough, it looks like it's going to be a good day.
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I log into "FUCKYOU", (the help-desk enquiries username) and go into mail.
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There's 3 new messages, the first of which is 117 lines long, so it's obviously
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a storyteller. Shit, I hate that. Instead of saying "My account needs more
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disk space" they tell you about how they're doing this bit of research for a
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lecturer and how it's got to be in yesterday, and they almost had it but their
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second cousing twice removed had a perforated herpes scab and lost a lot of
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blood and had to be rushed into hospital... etc etc. I delete the message.
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Second message I read, but it's one of those people who can't handle the mail
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interface and send a null message, so all you get is headers. I reply to the
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message saying "No worries, we can do that by next tuesday". Hope it was
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important.
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The last message I leave for tommorrow, because Saturday would be a dull day
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if I ever had to work then.
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The phone rings. I thought I'd fixed that!
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I put it on hands free so I can slop some pizza into the microwave.
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"Yes" I call
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"Something's wrong with my Boot disk, I can't login to the server"
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"Have you got your disk with you?"
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"Sure!"
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I go get the disk and put it and the pizza in for 5 minutes on "ULTRA-NUKE".
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Six minutes later, he rings back.
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"It still doesn't work, and now my disk makes a funny noise and smells."
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"OH SHIT! It's that electromagnetic radiation from satellite debris again!"
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"Really? I think I heard about that!" (What a tool!)
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"Yep, I'm sorry, you'll have to buy another disk"
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"Oh, that's ok, I don't mind, the old one was getting worn. Thanks"
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"Sure, no worries. And be sure to run it through our virus checker FDISK
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when you get a lot of important data on it..."
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"I will! Thanks!"
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"That's Ok - it's my job!"
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Xcbzone is running really slow so I kill off a whole lot of database backends
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that seem to be hogging all the cpu and get back into my game. Much better.
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It isn't easy on the frontline, work work work...
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I go to the cafeteria for a quick 2 hour snack - they're so nice to me there.
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They always have been, ever since that computer glitch that registered their
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kitchen as an organ recipient - very messy. I grab a couple of cans of coke
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and some cheese things and cruise on back to the office via the first year
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computer funamentals lab. I look in the window on the scene that unfolds it-
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self to me - a lab full of first years with no demonstrator.
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WELL I'LL JUST HAVE TO HELP!
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I walk on in.
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"Right, I'm your temporary replacement demonstrator and today we're going
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to put our assignments aside for half an hour to learn about the REMARK
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function, or, as it's known to the computer literate world, rm.."
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I should have been a teacher you know - I've got this way with people...
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...
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spt@waikato.ac.nz (Simon Travaglia)
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