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Must... Control... Fist... of Death...
Aug. 26th, 2004 01:47 pmThomas: Mr Sparkles! Come here, I have a job for you.
(30 seconds later...)
Thomas: Mr Sparkles! I have a job for you.
(2 minutes later...)
Thomas: Mr Sparkles! I have a job for you. How is job[1] coming along?
Repeat another three or four times...
( Do you <i>really</i> want to know what my reaction is? )
Thomas asked if he had "stomped on me" too hard.
I refrained from swearing at him. I am proud of my self-control.
I replied that it was not the force of the "stomp" which was getting to me, but the repeated kicking while I was down.
Let's see if memory serves:
$job[0] = move boxes out of the fishbowl (where we set up new servers and such) so that they would be collected by the cleaners.
$job[1] = move a monitor down to a lab where one machine was missing its monitor because it was away on repair. Pity the monitor I had taken from the sixth floor to the first turned out to be faulty itself.
$job[2] = remove old servers and associated equipment from a rack into storage. Never mind that I was trying to help an academic at the time. Thomas takes precedence.
$job[3] = Log a service call on the faulty monitor. Detailed instructions on how I should log this in the inventory spreadsheet were supplied. Gee, it would have been nice if I could have mounted that network drive on the first try. I ended up having to screw around with /etc/fstab. While I was fighting this,
$job[4] = Oh, throw out the keyboards with the old chunky connectors. That involved sorting through an unstable pile of ~100 old keyboards, including PS2, serial, console, Sun and Mac keyboards.
$job[5] = Somewhere in this cupboard is a hard drive enclosure with an 18Gb drive. We would like to recycle it. Find it. (This involves opening up half a dozen various enclosures, some of which seem to have been designed by Mr Rubik.) By this time it was lunchtime.
Oh, and how was I going with $job[3]? Well, not good. I have been trying to open the spreadsheet so I could start. Well, says Thomas, if you would stop reading Slashdot, then...
I refused to dignify his "little joke".
(30 seconds later...)
Thomas: Mr Sparkles! I have a job for you.
(2 minutes later...)
Thomas: Mr Sparkles! I have a job for you. How is job[1] coming along?
Repeat another three or four times...
( Do you <i>really</i> want to know what my reaction is? )
Thomas asked if he had "stomped on me" too hard.
I refrained from swearing at him. I am proud of my self-control.
I replied that it was not the force of the "stomp" which was getting to me, but the repeated kicking while I was down.
Let's see if memory serves:
$job[0] = move boxes out of the fishbowl (where we set up new servers and such) so that they would be collected by the cleaners.
$job[1] = move a monitor down to a lab where one machine was missing its monitor because it was away on repair. Pity the monitor I had taken from the sixth floor to the first turned out to be faulty itself.
$job[2] = remove old servers and associated equipment from a rack into storage. Never mind that I was trying to help an academic at the time. Thomas takes precedence.
$job[3] = Log a service call on the faulty monitor. Detailed instructions on how I should log this in the inventory spreadsheet were supplied. Gee, it would have been nice if I could have mounted that network drive on the first try. I ended up having to screw around with /etc/fstab. While I was fighting this,
$job[4] = Oh, throw out the keyboards with the old chunky connectors. That involved sorting through an unstable pile of ~100 old keyboards, including PS2, serial, console, Sun and Mac keyboards.
$job[5] = Somewhere in this cupboard is a hard drive enclosure with an 18Gb drive. We would like to recycle it. Find it. (This involves opening up half a dozen various enclosures, some of which seem to have been designed by Mr Rubik.) By this time it was lunchtime.
Oh, and how was I going with $job[3]? Well, not good. I have been trying to open the spreadsheet so I could start. Well, says Thomas, if you would stop reading Slashdot, then...
I refused to dignify his "little joke".