Thursday, February 10, 2005

Lower Level Now Is Playing

Look, I won't try to devote too many of my blogs to work but I need to get some stuff off my chest. I had a horrible night. Not long after I got in to work at 4, I got a call from some fucking condescending prick out in one of our California offices complaining about how his laptop keeps popping up an IE browser with an obscene message. Actually, I don't consider "tHis fUckInG SiTE sUcKz" obscene. Just stupid. But I would like to pound the pimply faced miscreant who wrote it in to an amorphous mass of bloody proto-plasm.

It took me two hours to get all the virii and spyware off this computer and do the sorely needed updates. Obviously the fucking idiot never met an internet download he didn't like. And at the same time I was working on two other computers and taking calls. As well as keeping an eye on our fucking fragile network in case some critical sever crapped the bed. Do you know how confusing it can be working on three computers remotely at the same time? No? Oh, never mind.

So in the middle of all this, an engineer comes into the network operating center (NOC). He is French or something weird like that and he's always bothering me. Plus I think he likes me a little too much. He's one of those guys who always gets too close to your personal space. Maybe he just likes me because I treat him like a human being unlike my fellow IT drones do. Why couldn't he be a good looking chick? Fuck good looking, I don't even care if you're uglier than the back side of Jim Plunkett's balls as long as you have a vagina. I need more estrogen in my life! I miss my old life (working in the world's best bakery, owned and populated by babes).

So I'm frantically trying to get stuff done so I can go work on a "level 2" situation, assigned to me because the guy who originally got the job wanted to go home. Now, let me fill you in (sorry, I'm thinking of vaginas again)- we have levels assigned to problems. Level 4 means it needs to be addressed sometime in the next week. Level 3 means it needs to be done in less than two days. A level 2 has to be fixed in less than 4 hours. Level 1 is "the building's on fire!"

This particular level 2 was an important engineer's computer that had experienced a hard drive failure. I had to get to it soon. And this French guy wants to flirt with me and have me help him move his data from one laptop to another (that's a gimme, huh?). Fortunately a security guard came in and told the French guy to get lost. Just us IT royalty allowed in the NOC, you see.

I didn't get to choke down my pathetic low-cal frozen dinner until 10:30. Then I had other things to do, logs and shit. I was finished with most stuff around 11:30. At 12:00, the third shift guy came in to replace me. He is one of those guys who can never say anything positive, let alone utter a good word about anyone. Everyone's a "fucking asshole" to him. And then he's all pissed off that I didn't get any of the computer builds done. "Didn't you read the fucking e-mail?"

Well, first of all, the guy in charge of all the computer builds hates my guts and refuses to send me any e-mails. No one can figure out why. Usually I have to take it upon myself to rout around and figure out what needs to be done. Secondly, I was too fucking busy to build anything! I was still on the phone with some poor looser from Singapore who's name I could never pronounce in a million years until 12:30.

I just wish my roommate Buzz would replace that bottle of JD he drank.


At 8:40 AM, Blogger B-Face said...

Jesus, Bob. After reading that, I think I need a bottle of whiskey as well.

I have one piece of advice: When you go to work, leave the firearms at home.

Repeat: Leave the firearms at home.

At 8:26 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Fuck that!!! Bring the firearms, man!! Bring 'em all!!
A good 50-cal will tear through human flesh like a tongue through a ... I don't know...something.... you can take care of all of your personnel problems with one burst of auto-fire. As you're shooting, you can yell things like "tonuge my shitter!!" or "die, you vaginal blood farts!!" . Immature, true...but theyll be gone , so who can they tell?

At 8:35 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

"uglier than the backside of Jim Plunkett's balls"... fuck me that's the funniest thing I've read in months.
Want to keep the French guy out of the NOC? Whip out yer hog like it was 2am at Gilley's and Bill Zeliff had just come in for a burger to soak up the half-gallon of gin he downed.

At 8:59 PM, Blogger The Cod God said...

I was going to reference the "Jim Plunkett" comment but some one beat me to it.

And quite eloquently, I must say.

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