We really need a punching bag here at work. A literal one: one you can just hit to lay off some steam or vent some aggression. So in absence of that, I'm going to use my secret power of...IMAGINATION!!!!
Imagine an open field. Imagine it full of nice grass, waving in the wind. Underneath the clear blue sky and warm sunlight, there, in the center of the field, stands a punching bag. It's tall, heavy, held up floating in the air by large chains. It looks somewhat (or heck: precisely) like this:
It hangs there in the air. Inviting to those under stress, those torn under the sheer stupidity of the human race or the inept inadequacies of bureaucracy (assuming inadequacies means what I think it means, of course. I'm using poetic liberty here).
And there I stand. Before it. Boiling. Raging. I'm not in this stupid mundy world. I'm temporarily transported there, for convenience sake dressed in my trusty karate gi. There will be no formal greeting. No mosuko to empty the mind, no acceptance of the 'do' of karate and no greeting of Satoshi Miyazaki sensei (I'd say "Gomen'nasai", but damnit...this is MY BLOG! Did I say I was an emperor over my own blog? Scrap that...I.AM.A.FREAKING.GOD!!!!
*throws some lightning bolts, rocks some thunder and a purple blizzard for "because I can" measure*
...damn. Where was I? I lost my train of thought here. Oh...right: Rage! Boiling hatred. Smoke emits from my poison green eyes and flaring nostrils. I ground myself in front of the punching bag, positioned in the most kokutsu dachi'd kokutsu dachi you have ever seen being a kokutsu dachi. My arm arms itself in a smoldering ball of octarine energy as I charge up my hikite(1). I envision the ball being the antimatter. The nemesis. Antagonist ultimatum. And in this case...the situation.
I let out a primal "AAAIIIIJJJJJJ!!!!!!!!!!!11111!!!!"(2) and dash forward in the only theoretically achievable mathematic perfect oi-zuki (with a hadouken in its shadow, obviously. I wanna rage in style
). Not a complex move at all, but what it lacks in finesse, it makes up for in EXCEEDING part in force. The punching bag immediately explodes into ash, raining down candy, butterflies, rainbows and Donald Trump's impeachment. The shock wave from the blast ripples through the field, trembling the walls between this reality and the neighboring seven dimensions.
...but it is done. I have poured all my rage and have now become calm again. Much better.
So...at this time, I sort of envision my readers leaning back in their most comfy chairs, popcorn in hand and (for those with actual QUALITY computers) wearing cool 3D glasses(3), with a face lit up like a christmass tree. Because nothing emits interest in other humans like seeing them just having had an emotional breakdown of sorts. So I guess I can't leave this writing without informing you.
It's me job. As an ICT guy, one of my tasks is to follow up on situations that go belly-up by phone. More specific: cash registers. Nowadays, cash registers outside flea markets aren't simple devices anymore but actual genuine computers. And as computers go, they can fail. And as modern computers go, they can fail on their network.
Which is what happened yesterday. Lightning hit in the area, causing a panel to be destroyed/fried/otherwise out of operation. Result: somewhat of an entire block lost internet. I know: you also hate it when that happens at home (perhaps you even have roommates or someone in the middle who finds themselves unable to process this reality called 'reality without internet'). This is worse. One of our stores is in that area. It's a popular outlet that sees a lot of customers. Customers that absolutely love to pay 21st century style: by using their pin card. Who rely on the internet to verify the actual purchase.
That, in itself, is merely a statement of the situation: one of our most popular stores loses internet. This not only pisses off clients (what do you mean, 'the wifi won't work'? 'Wait...what do you mean, I can only pay by cash???'?), but loses customers by the hour. So this is a situation that needs to get unfucked as soon as possible.
They called me, I called it in on our provider. I have the necessary phone numbers, account details, address, yaddi yadda. It's just like a regular procedure, only with a higher priority. I calm nerves, correspond with the internet provider and (luckily) have decent people in the store who can relay the whole situation rather than merely providing a "it dun't work" as detail.
Unfortunately, the provider isn't exactly prepared for a lightning strike. Meh...it's unfortunate (in my company, we're always expecting the expected(4) ), but it's okay. They're working on it. It'll be done soon. Okay...later than expected, but still: soon.
Meanwhile, my boss wants me to repeatedly call them for any status updates about every hour. I can't say I can't see his position (the store had about 2000 euro's less in revenue that day, compared to a normal one) but it's not like I'm calling the technician (in fact: that's the LAST person I want to disturb, because for every call he has to answer, he is not fixing the actual problem). But because probably more people thought like my boss, I have spent about an entire hour listening to the waiting music. When I get home yesterday evening, I was somewhat stressed, but I had relief in that at least the situation was under control.
...except it wasn't really. this morning I was told that their line was very unstable, which I could quickly verify myself. The phone line was dead, and also: we weren't the only ones. Neighboring stores also had the problem.
So I called it in again. Explained the situation. Urged them to look into it further. They'd send someone.
I told them that it was urgent. Explained our situation. I know this sounds selfish, but really: I wasn't "just" asking to fix it for our store but for the entire block over there.
At this time, the manager often called me with the question on what I was going to do. That's the part I hate about my job: you intervene on something and either you're a hero for applying a fix someone else made or you're a villain if things are wrecked. Okay, I can stave it off, but I could only do what I described as "it's inneffective...but it's the only thing I CAN do". That is: I called them about every hour to ask about the technician.
"Don't worry...he's just with another client. He'll be with you after that. Around midday."
"Okay, it seems like it takes a bit longer with the other client. But he'll get there."
Different people on the phone, but the same lack of urgency. Meanwhile, the manager spoke to me as if her store was on fire (which is most likely just a reaction on clients acting like neanderthals when someone else can't fix an internet connection with just a pair of tweezers and a rubber band).
The next call was from the manager herself. The technician was in the store, but couldn't find anything wrong there.
My reaction can be summed up by this smiley here:
Why? Because I already had a feeling what was coming next. I spoke to the technician directly. For some reason, he was never told that the entire block was out of network. He was just dispatched here to check on the store. As such, his first reaction was to check the street (perhaps even before someone told him about the situation). There he found a colleague of him, who was also sent out to dispatch the situation.
You know that sinking feeling? That feeling of "wwwwwwhhhhhyyyyyyyy????" ? It came over me. Telling myself that the technician wasn't to blame for what he wasn't told, I asked him what to do next.
He was going to tell his colleagues about the situation.
I answered, with grinding teeth, that I had already TOLD them that (this morning. When the missed revenue for today was still below 600 euro's).
He said they responded by sending him out. After all, the situation needed to be properly checked, rather than sending out a repair team for what might not have been the cause of the problem.
I answered by saying nothing. I really wanted to shout down the line that I HAD ALREADY ASSESSED THE SITUATION THAT MORNING! More so: that our people in the field have assessed that. And had a freaking sense of URGENCY because our stores are graded based on FREAKING SALES!!! ...but I didn't say any of that, on the premisse that he wasn't responsible for what his crew members had withheld from him. And granted: I've been in their position many times (honestly: a healthy dose of paranoia is needed when troubleshooting. Half the time, the user only has a vague clue what he's talking about. It's just that I AM IN THAT OTHER HALF, DAMNIT!!!)
I thanked him for his work and expressed my hope we could have the proper persons for the proper job in time.
Then I called our ISP again and got yet another person on the line. He started by saying the technician was en route. I replied that he was already there. I wanted to know why he wasn't informed about the things I've told this morning. He replied that it was standard procedure that the situation needed to be verified first.
I wanted to shout to him that THERE HAD BEEN A LIGHTNING BOLT the day before. There had BEEN a crew the day before, who managed to fix it from "not working" to "flaky connection". It's...it's less bad, of course. But why the hell couldn't I just continue the earlier ticket I had made (nobody responded on that one)?
I didn't say any of that. I lied that I understood and expressed my hope that the situation would be resolved soon.
Not that much later, I was called by the manager. Through the technician, she had gotten a hold of another number where the ACTUAL repairmen (okay: second line, or whomever you want to call it) were held. They would come...in about six to ten hours. She also told me that the technician never said he was with an earlier client. Before noon, he was in training.
I sighed and said something in the lines of "Oh. Okay."
Then I punched a chair for being a chair (damn furniture acting so darn POSH!!!). Then I started writing this stuff.
To those who haven't been bored to death by now: thanks for reading. You've been a great audience. Your listening skills are awesome.
Taleweaver
(1): small note to aspiring karatekas: don't do this shit at home. This ain't no karate movie. In this reality, you just ball your strength at the apex of your tsuki/geri/whatever. Everything else is just a waste of energy. Again: this is fiction.
(2): this is, of course, only a small representation of the brute force emitting from the kijai. If I'd attempt to describe it in full, the mere description would turn your hair gray (by 'your', I mean you, reader) your mind would literally blow up in front of your PC monitor/tablet/phone, the economy would collapse, women globally would have miscarriages, the internet would explode and the gbatemp moderators would have to intervene in this blog post. As such, I'm toning it down
(3): yeah, I know they don't exist. But my projection of you in this fantasy world is in itself layered in fantasy. And if that concept doesn't ring a bell, you should watch Inception (again) to know what I'm talking about.
(4): what do you mean, "expecting the unexpected?" If we did that, it wouldn't be unexpected, now would it smart ass?
Imagine an open field. Imagine it full of nice grass, waving in the wind. Underneath the clear blue sky and warm sunlight, there, in the center of the field, stands a punching bag. It's tall, heavy, held up floating in the air by large chains. It looks somewhat (or heck: precisely) like this:
It hangs there in the air. Inviting to those under stress, those torn under the sheer stupidity of the human race or the inept inadequacies of bureaucracy (assuming inadequacies means what I think it means, of course. I'm using poetic liberty here).
And there I stand. Before it. Boiling. Raging. I'm not in this stupid mundy world. I'm temporarily transported there, for convenience sake dressed in my trusty karate gi. There will be no formal greeting. No mosuko to empty the mind, no acceptance of the 'do' of karate and no greeting of Satoshi Miyazaki sensei (I'd say "Gomen'nasai", but damnit...this is MY BLOG! Did I say I was an emperor over my own blog? Scrap that...I.AM.A.FREAKING.GOD!!!!
*throws some lightning bolts, rocks some thunder and a purple blizzard for "because I can" measure*
...damn. Where was I? I lost my train of thought here. Oh...right: Rage! Boiling hatred. Smoke emits from my poison green eyes and flaring nostrils. I ground myself in front of the punching bag, positioned in the most kokutsu dachi'd kokutsu dachi you have ever seen being a kokutsu dachi. My arm arms itself in a smoldering ball of octarine energy as I charge up my hikite(1). I envision the ball being the antimatter. The nemesis. Antagonist ultimatum. And in this case...the situation.
I let out a primal "AAAIIIIJJJJJJ!!!!!!!!!!!11111!!!!"(2) and dash forward in the only theoretically achievable mathematic perfect oi-zuki (with a hadouken in its shadow, obviously. I wanna rage in style
). Not a complex move at all, but what it lacks in finesse, it makes up for in EXCEEDING part in force. The punching bag immediately explodes into ash, raining down candy, butterflies, rainbows and Donald Trump's impeachment. The shock wave from the blast ripples through the field, trembling the walls between this reality and the neighboring seven dimensions....but it is done. I have poured all my rage and have now become calm again. Much better.
So...at this time, I sort of envision my readers leaning back in their most comfy chairs, popcorn in hand and (for those with actual QUALITY computers) wearing cool 3D glasses(3), with a face lit up like a christmass tree. Because nothing emits interest in other humans like seeing them just having had an emotional breakdown of sorts. So I guess I can't leave this writing without informing you.
It's me job. As an ICT guy, one of my tasks is to follow up on situations that go belly-up by phone. More specific: cash registers. Nowadays, cash registers outside flea markets aren't simple devices anymore but actual genuine computers. And as computers go, they can fail. And as modern computers go, they can fail on their network.
Which is what happened yesterday. Lightning hit in the area, causing a panel to be destroyed/fried/otherwise out of operation. Result: somewhat of an entire block lost internet. I know: you also hate it when that happens at home (perhaps you even have roommates or someone in the middle who finds themselves unable to process this reality called 'reality without internet'). This is worse. One of our stores is in that area. It's a popular outlet that sees a lot of customers. Customers that absolutely love to pay 21st century style: by using their pin card. Who rely on the internet to verify the actual purchase.
That, in itself, is merely a statement of the situation: one of our most popular stores loses internet. This not only pisses off clients (what do you mean, 'the wifi won't work'? 'Wait...what do you mean, I can only pay by cash???'?
), but loses customers by the hour. So this is a situation that needs to get unfucked as soon as possible.They called me, I called it in on our provider. I have the necessary phone numbers, account details, address, yaddi yadda. It's just like a regular procedure, only with a higher priority. I calm nerves, correspond with the internet provider and (luckily) have decent people in the store who can relay the whole situation rather than merely providing a "it dun't work" as detail.
Unfortunately, the provider isn't exactly prepared for a lightning strike. Meh...it's unfortunate (in my company, we're always expecting the expected(4) ), but it's okay. They're working on it. It'll be done soon. Okay...later than expected, but still: soon.
Meanwhile, my boss wants me to repeatedly call them for any status updates about every hour. I can't say I can't see his position (the store had about 2000 euro's less in revenue that day, compared to a normal one) but it's not like I'm calling the technician (in fact: that's the LAST person I want to disturb, because for every call he has to answer, he is not fixing the actual problem). But because probably more people thought like my boss, I have spent about an entire hour listening to the waiting music. When I get home yesterday evening, I was somewhat stressed, but I had relief in that at least the situation was under control.
...except it wasn't really. this morning I was told that their line was very unstable, which I could quickly verify myself. The phone line was dead, and also: we weren't the only ones. Neighboring stores also had the problem.
So I called it in again. Explained the situation. Urged them to look into it further. They'd send someone.
I told them that it was urgent. Explained our situation. I know this sounds selfish, but really: I wasn't "just" asking to fix it for our store but for the entire block over there.
At this time, the manager often called me with the question on what I was going to do. That's the part I hate about my job: you intervene on something and either you're a hero for applying a fix someone else made or you're a villain if things are wrecked. Okay, I can stave it off, but I could only do what I described as "it's inneffective...but it's the only thing I CAN do". That is: I called them about every hour to ask about the technician.
"Don't worry...he's just with another client. He'll be with you after that. Around midday."
"Okay, it seems like it takes a bit longer with the other client. But he'll get there."
Different people on the phone, but the same lack of urgency. Meanwhile, the manager spoke to me as if her store was on fire (which is most likely just a reaction on clients acting like neanderthals when someone else can't fix an internet connection with just a pair of tweezers and a rubber band).
The next call was from the manager herself. The technician was in the store, but couldn't find anything wrong there.
My reaction can be summed up by this smiley here:
Why? Because I already had a feeling what was coming next. I spoke to the technician directly. For some reason, he was never told that the entire block was out of network. He was just dispatched here to check on the store. As such, his first reaction was to check the street (perhaps even before someone told him about the situation). There he found a colleague of him, who was also sent out to dispatch the situation.
You know that sinking feeling? That feeling of "wwwwwwhhhhhyyyyyyyy????" ? It came over me. Telling myself that the technician wasn't to blame for what he wasn't told, I asked him what to do next.
He was going to tell his colleagues about the situation.
I answered, with grinding teeth, that I had already TOLD them that (this morning. When the missed revenue for today was still below 600 euro's).
He said they responded by sending him out. After all, the situation needed to be properly checked, rather than sending out a repair team for what might not have been the cause of the problem.
I answered by saying nothing. I really wanted to shout down the line that I HAD ALREADY ASSESSED THE SITUATION THAT MORNING! More so: that our people in the field have assessed that. And had a freaking sense of URGENCY because our stores are graded based on FREAKING SALES!!! ...but I didn't say any of that, on the premisse that he wasn't responsible for what his crew members had withheld from him. And granted: I've been in their position many times (honestly: a healthy dose of paranoia is needed when troubleshooting. Half the time, the user only has a vague clue what he's talking about. It's just that I AM IN THAT OTHER HALF, DAMNIT!!!)
I thanked him for his work and expressed my hope we could have the proper persons for the proper job in time.
Then I called our ISP again and got yet another person on the line. He started by saying the technician was en route. I replied that he was already there. I wanted to know why he wasn't informed about the things I've told this morning. He replied that it was standard procedure that the situation needed to be verified first.
I wanted to shout to him that THERE HAD BEEN A LIGHTNING BOLT the day before. There had BEEN a crew the day before, who managed to fix it from "not working" to "flaky connection". It's...it's less bad, of course. But why the hell couldn't I just continue the earlier ticket I had made (nobody responded on that one)?
I didn't say any of that. I lied that I understood and expressed my hope that the situation would be resolved soon.
Not that much later, I was called by the manager. Through the technician, she had gotten a hold of another number where the ACTUAL repairmen (okay: second line, or whomever you want to call it) were held. They would come...in about six to ten hours. She also told me that the technician never said he was with an earlier client. Before noon, he was in training.
I sighed and said something in the lines of "Oh. Okay."
Then I punched a chair for being a chair (damn furniture acting so darn POSH!!!
). Then I started writing this stuff.To those who haven't been bored to death by now: thanks for reading. You've been a great audience. Your listening skills are awesome.
Taleweaver
(1): small note to aspiring karatekas: don't do this shit at home. This ain't no karate movie. In this reality, you just ball your strength at the apex of your tsuki/geri/whatever. Everything else is just a waste of energy. Again: this is fiction.
(2): this is, of course, only a small representation of the brute force emitting from the kijai. If I'd attempt to describe it in full, the mere description would turn your hair gray (by 'your', I mean you, reader) your mind would literally blow up in front of your PC monitor/tablet/phone, the economy would collapse, women globally would have miscarriages, the internet would explode and the gbatemp moderators would have to intervene in this blog post. As such, I'm toning it down
(3): yeah, I know they don't exist. But my projection of you in this fantasy world is in itself layered in fantasy. And if that concept doesn't ring a bell, you should watch Inception (again) to know what I'm talking about.
(4): what do you mean, "expecting the unexpected?" If we did that, it wouldn't be unexpected, now would it smart ass?
