Further Evidence Of Douchebaggery

12 04 2006

When I decided to work in IT it seemed like a perfect match. I am decent with computers, I am a solid problem solver and I have taken dozens of beatings from popular kids. However, part of me assumed that I’d be in a role tackling problems that impact the enterprise infrastructure, not spending my days inquiring “…and is your keyboard plugged in?”

This morning I had a typical call from a seemingly typical user. Begin IT Scenario Alpha: Something was working yesterday and it’s not working today – what did you supposed systems administrators do to my computer? After taking a couple of minutes to assure the user that his workflow hiccup was not part of a conspiracy to rob him of productivity, we set to discovering the root of his issue. I asked him a couple of basic questions about his setup to establish possible parameters of the problem, which were met with the standardized user replies of an amalgamation of ill-chosen technical terms in an attempt to frame the issue in verbage familiar to me. It was something to the effect of “I see that the OS is core-dumping a memory threshhold, but the segmentation fault won’t allow the drivers to mount the display variable. Also, I think there’s too much RAM.” Answers like this give me a strange appreciation for all of automotive mechanics who have suffered my theories as to what is currently malfunctioning in my car. It’s almost a compulsion of mine (a syndrome I imagine many are guilty of) to demonstrate that while I am about to commit my vehicle to hundreds of dollars in labor charges I am obviously manly enough to diagnose and fix it myself:

“It’s making a weird shuddering noise when it’s cold – I’m thinking it’s the carburator.”
“I’ll be sure to check that out, but since cars have been fuel injected for decades you should be safe, sir.”
“You’re going to gouge me now, aren’t you?”
“Fair enough.”

It’s easy to become jaded doing this sort of work. I spend most of my days trying to unearth the Rosetta stone for seamless translation of Techie to N00b with varying levels of success. The only recourse in a case like this is to essentially just ask the computer what is wrong, leveraging the user as a medium to enter commands for you. In this particular scenario, my requests to have particular statements entered were met with an excrutiatingly slow tip…tap….tip………tap as they painstakingly searched for the elusive letters on the keyboard. Providing assistance on problems remotely is difficult enough, but doing so with the latency of a feeble typer on the other end is torture. My frustration level began to soar like an eagle, though not with any particular level of majesty that is usually ascribed to eagles soaring. Let’s pretend this eagle has one wing shorter than the other and the wing of standard dimensions has some sort of palsy causing it to flutter irregularly. That’s how my soaring eagle of frustration looks.

Seeing no other means to achieve a swift resolution, I proceeded to walk over to the user’s desk. I quietly burned them in effigy, despising the totally inappropriate cardiovascular activity they were thrusting upon me. When I took this job I did NOT sign on for movement. I lamented how in this day and age it was feasible for anyone who works with a computer to type that slowly. Even my wife who only does a modified hunt’n’peck types about 70 WPM for purely recreational internet use! This was the final straw – a ridiculous waste of my time that was all the more infuriating knowing I would have to fume in silence over my customer’s ineptitude. I even felt entitled to my quiet rage, that is right up until I discovered they only had one arm.

One arm equals one hand. One hand equals typing slowly. Assumptions about typing slowly equals one gigantic, gaping asshole of a man named Me.

There is probably a lesson in all of this, but I’ve opted to learn nothing and flush this whole experience from my RAM cache.




12 responses

12 04 2006

One arm is no excuse, I mean the drummer of Def Leppard had one arm and could still rock pretty hard.

12 04 2006

Whenever I think of y’all in tech support, I have to giggle and think of this commercial.

12 04 2006

i just hooked on to your feed and must say, i’m enjoying it. as a customer care rep for cingular, i can empathize…i get so frustrated at people who are less technologically savvy (read: morons) that i could scream. thanks for making me realize i’m not alone in my aggravation.

12 04 2006

The soaring eagle of frustration, and it’s concise description made my entire day.

12 04 2006

dude, you need to get a job as a writer. your days of hilarity are slowly wasting away in front of a computer screen. i tell you this because i care. or i don’t – who knows.

and secondly, speed-typing with one hand is nothing short of a “cake walk” when you’ve been crusing the internet for porn for the past Umpteen years and aren’t about to bust one to some fat hairy guy plowing a hot number from behind when all you see is nutsack and man ass. “quick! must do search for ‘tits’ fast…only…seconds left…before…” having one hand is no excuse.

12 04 2006

and p.s. women often tell me i’m using too much RAM when i’m about to core-dump a load in their V-drive. that’s when i ask them, “does this cloth smell like chloroform?”

12 04 2006

Thanks for joining the party, Leslie!

12 04 2006

Your mom rocks pretty hard. OHNOIDIDNT!

12 04 2006

God, I hate this feed.

12 04 2006

get off my shtick. serisouly. your mom just did!

*3 snaps in Z-formation*

12 04 2006

I totally ripped off something else I had written once about being a swan, but it was worth it.

20 04 2006

Now that you mentio

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