"Yeah, it's a start, but then they may call back when they get new files. You want them NEVER to call back. What could you do?"
"Swear at them?"
"No. I can see we'll have to demonstrate. Have you got a metal ballpoint?"
"Yes"
"See that wallsocket over there. Take the refill out of the pen and poke in into the wallsocket."
"But it's live!"
"Would I really make you do it if it were live?"
"Oh" >fiddle< >fiddle< >BZZZZZZZEEEEERT!< >THUD!<
Of course I would.
He was no good anyway. No killing instinct.
BSMfH #2
So I'm interviewing for new Operators, and, as the Bastard System Manager from Hell, I have high standards. And as the Immediate Past Bastard Operator from Hell, I have even higher standards.
I get the first applicant in.
"Ok" I say "I'm just going to ask you some simple questions to guage your knowledge of Computing and Networking in relation to the Operations Field"
"Sure"
"Right. Question One. What's the best way to stop an individual posting nasty articles to news?"
"Close their account"
"Good – But can you elaborate?"
"Delete all their files, Change their password to `Knobhead' and Erase any backups of their account"
"Excellent. What is a killfile?"
"Uh. It's a list of usernames/topics/news items etc that you wish the news-reader to automatically skip so you don't have to wade through rubbish"
"Uh No. Remember I said pertaining to Operations. A killfile is in fact a file with a list of names of people you are going to kill."
"Oh. Of course."
"Never mind. What is DCE?"
"Delete, Close and Erase"
"Good. DTR?"
"DON'T TRY to RING. The Operator's watchword"
"Well done. DBMS?"
"Dont Bug My Supervisor. Probably the most important acronym around"
"You betcha. Ok. A user comes to you with a complaint about another user sending sexually explicit email messages to them. What do you do?"
"Take a copy of the messages, close the complainant's account (by accident) and extort money from the mailer by threatening to show their parents"
"Good. I think you'll do nicely. Hang onto this wire..."
"I don't think so."
"Excellent. You passed the final test. You start tommorrow. Please leave by that door so as not to disturb the other applicants."
BZZZZZEEEERETTT!
Electrified Door Handle. Gets them every time. I think it's the "Complaints Dept" sign that draws them to it like moths to a globe...
I push the body out onto the fire escape.
"NEXT!"
Quite a Bastard:
BOFH Rides Again:
Bastard Operator from Hell #14
Don't ask how I got back, I just did. Suffice to say that work frowns upon management material that uses electrodes to gain client information. Especially when you do it to the boss's in-laws. That's HIS entertainment.
So I'm back in the saddle. Unfortunately, that means there's a surplus of operators in the computer room. One slam of the tape safe door later, the problem is solved. The knocking dies down in a couple of hours, so I guess the safes really *are* airtight.
To welcome myself back, I send a message out saying there's a shutdown in 10 minutes. 5 minutes later I shut the system down. I love doing that. I see the hard-disk activity lights flicker as the "disk recovery" phase of startup run through, globally deleting journal files. Funny how we always start up with lots of free disk...
I just get Wolfenstein started and the phone rings. What the hell, I almost missed it while I was away, so I answer it.
"Computer Room" I say
"THAT WASN'T TEN MINUTES!!!!" the voice at the other end screams.
"What wasn't 10 minutes?" I ask in a pleasant manner. I can see that things have deteriorated in my absence. Spare the rod and spoil the rm -r, that's what I always say.
"THAT! You said it was going to be te... >pause<... Um, who is this?"
"This is the Operator; who did you expect it to be?"
"Darren? Is that Darren?"
"Uh, No. Darren.. Darren is... unavailable... at the moment."
"Oh. Do you know when he'll be back in the control room?"
"Probably around the time of our next backup – the year 2007 or sometime thereabouts I should imagine"
He's toying with asking me if he can recover their files or not. I let him dangle for a few moments.
"Was that all?", I say, nice as pie
"Well.... NO, it doesn't matter"
"Of course it doesn't. Would you like me to check if your files are ok?" I prompt.
"Would you? I'm a bit new to this system and I'm not too sure what to do"
"Sure. What was your username?"
Everything inside him is screaming at him not to say it – People beside him are screaming at him not to say it.
He says it.
You just can't tell some people.
"Ok. Well, it looks ok to me, all your files are in perfect condition!" I say
"THEY ARE!! GREAT!!"
The relief in his voice is overwhelming.
>clickety< >clickety<
"Yep. Both your x-defaults and AND your newsrc file are ok"
"But.. But what about my site monitoring data?"
"Sorry?"
"There were about 10 files in my research subdirectory, data I'd collected over the past year."
"Oh. Well, I can't see anything. Perhaps you backed them up somewhere?"
"I put a copy in my girlfriend's account.."
"What was her username?"
"Uh.... >pause< ... "
Is he going to do it? Is he?
He does.
Like running down a snail with a steamroller...
>clickety clickety<
"Nope, nothing there either. OH! Hang on, there looks like some form of journal file in your account, it's quite large... I think maybe you should login there and try to recover with it..."
I cat about 100 man files together and slop them in his girlfriends account under then name "rsrch.j"
"How do I do that?"
"Ok; can you login yet?"
"Yeah, I think so..... Ok, I'm logged in"
"Ok, You need to run the file thru the mailer to clear the eigth bit, otherwise the journal recovery will probably choke with an instruction error"
>DUMMY MODE ON<
"Oh... How do I do that?"
"Well, you have to type in `mail root < rsrch.j'"
"Ok!"
"HANG ON! You have to type it with your nose."
"WH..? WHY?"
I flip the excuse card till something appropriate pops up. "HARDWARE STRESS FRACTURES"
"Well, it's got to do with hardware stress fractures. You probably type too hard with your fingers which upsets the internals of the keyboard. It's got to do with dry joints and electromagnetic inductance"
>DUMMY MODE IRREVOCABLY ON<
"Oh. Ok"
"Now, you've got to type it in 20 times"
"Sure, ok"
He hangs up.
I ring campus security
"Hey, we've got another crazy in the lab. Apparently he's typing with his nose. He might be armed..."
3 minutes later I hear the shots. I close his account, he won't be needing it any more..
The phone rings. It's my Mum.
"Hi Ma, what can I do for you?"