<TITLE>What a Bastard</TITLE>
<H2>Bastard Operator from Hell #9</H2>
<P>
I'm driving to work and I'm stuck behind this old guy, the classic slow driver
from hell,  whose  car red-lines at 20 mph and can't take corners at more than
5.  I honk my horn but his hearing aid's probably turned way down to "whisper",
so I'm stuck.
<P>
I make a mental note of his license plate.  In fact, I did that 60 times a
minute for 15 and a half minutes.  Oh dear.. oh dear....  Looks like another
call to the DMV Database to register a vehicle as stolen by out of town arms
dealers...
<P>
I get to work, flick the excuse page over.  "ELECTROMAGNETIC RADIATION FROM
SATTELLITE DEBRIS".  Fair enough, it looks like it's going to be a good day.
<P>
I log into "FUCKYOU", (the help-desk enquiries username) and go into mail.
There's 3 new messages, the first of which is 117 lines long, so it's obviously
a storyteller.  Shit, I hate that.  Instead of saying "My account needs more
disk space" they tell you about how they're doing this bit of research for a
lecturer and how it's got to be in yesterday, and they almost had it but their
second cousin twice removed had a perforated herpes scab and lost a lot of
blood and had to be rushed into hospital... etc etc.  I delete the message.
<P>
Second message I read, but it's one of those people who can't handle the mail
interface and send a null message, so all you get is headers.  I reply to the
message saying "No worries, we can do that by next Tuesday".  Hope it was
important.
<P>
The last message I leave for tommorrow, because Saturday would be a dull day
if I ever had to work then.
<P>
The phone rings.  I thought I'd fixed that!
<P>
I put it on hands free so I can slop some pizza into the microwave.
<P>
"Yes" I call
<P>
"Something's wrong with my Boot disk, I can't login to the server"
<P>
"Have you got your disk with you?"
<P>
"Sure!"
<P>
I go get the disk and put it and the pizza in for 5 minutes on "ULTRA-NUKE".
<P>
Six minutes later, he rings back.
<P>
"It still doesn't work, and now my disk makes a funny noise and smells."
<P>
"OH SHIT!  It's that electromagnetic radiation from satellite debris again!"
<P>
"Really?  I think I heard about that!"  (What a tool!)
<P>
"Yep, I'm sorry, you'll have to buy another disk"
<P>
"Oh, that's ok, I don't mind, the old one was getting worn.  Thanks"
<P>
"Sure, no worries.  And be sure to run it through our virus checker FDISK
when you get a lot of important data on it..."
<P>
"I will!  Thanks!"
<P>
"That's Ok - it's my job!"
<P>
Xcbzone is running really slow so I kill off a whole lot of database backends
that seem to be hogging all the cpu and get back into my game.  Much better.
<P>
(It isn't easy on the frontline, work work work...)
<P>
I go to the cafeteria for a quick 2 hour snack - they're so nice to me there.
They always have been, ever since that computer glitch that registered their
kitchen as an organ recipient - very messy.  I grab a couple of cans of coke
and some cheese things and cruise on back to the office via the first year
computer funamentals lab.  I look in the window on the scene that unfolds it-
self to me - a lab full of first years with no demonstrator.
<P>
WELL I'LL JUST HAVE TO HELP!
<P>
I walk on in.
<P>
"Right, I'm your temporary replacement demonstrator and today we're going
to put our assignments aside for half an hour to learn about the REMARK
function, or, as it's known to the computer literate world, rm.."
<P>
I should've been a teacher you know - I've got this way with people...
<P>
...
<P>
<H2>The Bastard Operator from Hell #10</H2>
<P>
I get invited to a lecture as a guest speaker in "Computing Operations Fund-
amentals",  so  I  leave  the control room in the capable hands of Sam, the
janitor and cruise on down.
<P>
The lecture starts and goes ok, then there's a 10 minute period where students
get to ask a "real operator" questions that they have about operations.
<P>
I get out my pad and pen.
"Before we get started" I say, "could you just call out your username before
you ask me a question, I find it easier to apply your problem to terms you
would understand better"
The lecturer eats all this up - the personal touch really gets to them.
"First Question, You over there.."
<P>
"What do you think of the privacy of individuals on a shared system?"
<P>
"What was your username please?"
<P>
"CMS1103"
<P>
>Scratchy scritch<
"Computer Privacy...   Hmmm.  This is a toughy really.  You mean stuff like
reading the email between you and your counsellor about you not wanting to
come out of the closet?"
<P>
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGH!" 
<P>
"AH!  Well, he seems to have left - must have picked a bad COMPLETELY RANDOM
example.  Next question.  You, over there..."
<P>
"CMS1136.  I was.."
<P>
"Ah yes, 1136 the only person on campus who subscribes to alt.sex.buggery.by.
sailors.dressed.in.mums.clothing"
<P>
"It's purely for research purposes!"
<P>
"I'm sure it is.  You do a lot of story posting for a researcher don't you?"
<P>
"NNGggggAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGHGH!"
<P>
"Next please..."
<P>
...
<P>
..
<P>
Two minutes later, the lecture theatre's empty. 
That's the problem with students today, they just don't want to learn.
<P>
  I go back to control and Sam's asleep at the console again.  I think he's
after my job.   I  make  a  mental note to tap into the salary database and
cancel his health and accident insurance payments.  You can't be too careful..
<P>
I put the phone on the hook for the first time this afternoon and it starts
ringing almost immediately.  THAT'S IT!  I redirect it to 911 catch a bit of
shuteye.  That'll teach them.  OOPS!  Almost forgot to turn over the excuse
calendar.  "STATIC FROM NYLON UNDERWEAR"  Nope, too plausable - although in
some cases I could do an on-site check.  Nah, can't be stuffed.   I'll pick
another  one.   "STATIC  FROM  PLASTIC  SLIDE RULES"  Now THAT'S one with a 
challenge!
<P>
I un-redirect the phone and drag the rubbish bin so it rests on the printer's
stacker - another job well done.  The phone rings - this could be the big one!
<P>
"Hello?"
<P>
"Hi, Um, how do I spell-check my file?"
<P>
"Simple, just type `spell' and the filename"
<P>
"Thanks"
<P>
I'm so bloody nice this morning.  Especially as I know that my version of spell
INTRODUCES  errors  instead  of detecting them.  Things like changing friend to
freind and vice-versa.  What the hell.
<P>
The phone rings - it's them again.
<P>
"There's something wrong with spell"
<P>
"What makes you think that?"
<P>
"Because my file is all corrupt now!"
<P>
"That doesn't sound like spell to me.  Are you logged into thru PC?"
<P>
"Yes, but I can.."
<P>
"Please, leave the technical diagnosis to me...  Now, is there a plastic ruler
somewhere on or in the desk?"
<P>
"Um >clunka<, yes..."
<P>
"Right.  You've got a static buildup on your hard-drive caused by the changing
electrostatic field generated by the ruler - the same thing that makes bits of
paper stick to it when you rub it up and down your arm..."
<P>
DUMMY MODE ON
<P>
"Oh.  What do I do?"
<P>
"You know how you get paper off a ruler by hitting it on a table lots of times?
Well do that with your PC.  Say 20 times - lift it about a foot off the desk &
drop it."
<P>
"Oh.  OK"
<P>
>crash<
<P>
>crash<
<P>
>crash<
<P>
"Um, the screen went dark"
<P>
"That's ok, it's supposed to do that - keep going.  And when you're finished,
do the screen as well, that static may have gone up the wires to it."
<P>
>crash<
<P>
>crash<
<P>
>crash<...
<P>
I hang up.   I get up and go out to the public area to put honey in the floppy
drives when a guy who looked like Lee Harvey Oswald runs up to me and shoots
me, only the sound comes from the machine room, and I can hear the ex System-
Managers chuckle....
<P>
Later, in the ambulance, I realise.  I forgot to get the guys username...
<P>
Then everything goes dark
<P>
<H2>The Bastard LIVES!</H2>
<H2>The Bastard Operator from Hell #11</H2>
<P>
The darkness cleared as we got out of the tunnel and it occurred to me that
I couldn't be all that injured.  Then again, maybe I was.  Someone was going
to p..
<P>
I died.
<P>
Of course, a true BOFH considers this not really as dying, but more of going
home for the holidays.
<P>
Five seconds later, I'm getting the upside of 15Kv across the nipples. (These
ambulance guys sure know how to party).
<P>
      Bastard Operator from Hell LIVES! 
<P>
Three weeks later I'm back on my backside and feeling rested at relaxed behind
the console again.  The rest has done me good, I feel *great!*.  I catch up on
everyone's email then let the students know I'm back by performing an impromptu
preventative maintenance in the middle of lab time by kicking the restart
switch (They love it really)
<P>
I flip today's excuse card,  "GLOBAL WARMING"  YES YES YES!  What a welcome
home!
<P>
It's the end of the month so all those automatic email reminder programs will
be sending messages all over the place.  I set the system clock back 7 days
to buy some peace and quiet and swap the printer ribbon for the three year old
one with holes in it.
<P>
      I sort through my snail mail and crack open the BOFH Monthly Newsletter,
"kill -9" and check out the articles therein.   There's a nice peice of making
OS2 slow, boring and painful, but it looks exactly like the OS2 installation
instructions to me...    Ah, who knows.   I head straight to the BOFH Wizard
section to see if any of my articles were published.   All of them!!!  Even
the one about the c compiler that randomly removes one line from the source
code it's compiling!
<P>
The phone rings.
<P>
"The Screen on my PC is blank!!!"
<P>
"It's the power cord" I say
<P>
"No, I checked that.  When I switch it on, it does nothing!"
<P>
"It's the power cord" I say
<P>
"No, I checked and it's all plugged in properly.  There's no lights on the
keyboard or anything"
<P>
"It's the power cord" I say
<P>
"Oh Hey!  I just noticed, the cord's not plugged in properly!"
<P>
"The power cord?" I ask
<P>
"Yes...  Woopsy"
<P>
"No worries at all" I say "Is it all working well now?"
<P>
"Yes, I think so.  I'm sorry, you WERE right all along"
<P>
"Yes, we're getting a lot of this, it's due to the current Global Warming
problem.  It causes random thermal expansion and contraction resulting in
temperature induced movement of friction based holding mechanisms.."
<P>
I listen carefully.  Nothing.  In other words, <DUMMY MODE ON>...
<P>
"You can fix it permanently tho'" I say
<P>
"Really?  How?"
<P>
"Well it's all to do with lowering salt deposits on the metal contacts"
<P>
"Oh!"  (Dummy mode irrevocably engaged)
<P>
"All you need to do is just take the power plug out deposit some dilute mineral
salts on it.  Do you have some dilute mineral salts on you?"
<P>
"Uh... no?"
<P>
"Ok, no worries, just stick it in your mouth drool into it.  But make sure you
wipe the plug first to get rid of any germs, and TURN THE SWITCH OFF ON THE
MONITOR before you do - we don't want a nasty accident!
<P>
"Oh.  Ok!"
<P>
>Fzzzt< >clunk!<
<P>
I hang up as the receiver hits the floor.  Disk space is too good for them.
<P>
<P>
<H2>The Bastard Operator from Hell #12</H2>
<P>
    I get to work and I'm a bit tired so I plug a thick hunk of copper across
the  three  phase  supply  and  throw  the  switch.  The room is plunged into
darkness as the circuit breakers trip and for once the machine room is silent. 
<P>
I like it!
<P>
I pop the phone off the hook and close the curtains on the observation window.
Now  it's  *really*  dark in there.  I wouldn't be surprised if someone had a
nasty accident in here..
<P>
   I lift a couple of floor tiles up in the darkness and call our maintenance
contractors  saying the mini popped the breaker again, then replace the fuses
in it with a couple of nails and short the power supply to ground.  You can't
just hope for this sort of thing, you've got to MAKE it happen.
<P>
15 minutes later the engineer arives and falls down the hole.  I pop the floor
tiles back on just as the System Manager (a new and very thorough individual)
comes in, telling me to watch out, someone could really hurt themselves in the
dark...
<P>
   I nod & tell him that we can't really afford all the downtime, and should I
just throw the breaker and hope that there was no major fault.  After thinking
about the negative publicity we're getting already, he makes the last decision
of his short career and tells me to go ahead.
<P>
Later, when the smoke clears I examine the smoking remains of the mini.  Not
a pretty sight...
<P>
  "Strange that the breaker jammed shut, isn't it?" I say to our manager as he
packs up the personal things in his office.  "One in a million chance.  A pity
that someone saw what you did and posted the whole story to comp.misc.  You'll
be lucky to get a job managing a car computer after all that publicity..."
<P>
    I go back to the machine room and throw the rest of the breakers to liven
everything  up,  then  login  and  start  deleting  users'  email.  I spot an
interesting  off-the-record  sexual proposition from our male consultant to a
member of the men's swim team which will make a good motd, so I copy it there,
modify  root's  owner  name to be "Winker" and password to be "ljkadlkajflkj" 
(then call the big boss to report a suspected intrusion).  Should be at least
a couple of hours of login time before we can sort that out.  In the meantime,
people are just going to have to read that message...
  I realise the message has been read when I hear the gunshot from behind the
consultant's closed door.
<P>
   I edit the online helpdesk information and change the phone number to the
System Manager's  -  he'll probably appreciate the extra calls at such a sad
time...
<P>
I hear another shot and realise he won't be answering any calls today.
<P>
 I put the phone back on the hook and flip today's excuse card.  "Poor power
conditioning".  Too plausible.  "STATIC BUILDUP".  Still a bit too plausible
for my liking,  but  I  don't want to run out of cards before the end of the
year, so I decide to run with it.
<P>
The phone rings almost as soon as I've got "Top Gun" in the video machine so
I pause the video and put the phone on hands-free.
<P>
"I think I've bought a bad floppy disk"
<P>
"Yes?"  I wonder if I've suddenly become the consumer watchdog?
<P>
"Well, I've got this disk and it won't format.  All the others in the box did
so I thought I must have a bad disk"
<P>
"Why are you calling me about this?" I ask
<P>
"Well, the disk says guaranteed; where do I go to get a replacement?"
<P>
Ah!  Of course.
<P>
"Well, let's see.  Are you sure it's the disk, and not just some problem with
static buildup?"
<P>
"Huh?"
<P>
"Static Buildup, you know, static electricity that's passed from you to the
computer"
<P>
"But I'm wearing a wrist strap!"
<P>
Around about now I realise I'm deep in dweeb country.  Wrist straps aren't
fashion accessories in *my* part of town...
<P>
"Of course you are, but your average wrist strap has a 1 meg resistor in
series with it, a *really* poor earth.  What you need is a direct earth
connection.  Hang onto the frame of something that's earthed properly."
<P>
"What, you mean like our stainless steel work bench?"
<P>
"Excellent.  Now, have you got a paper clip to discharge the static with?"
<P>
"Hang on.  Yeah"
<P>
"Ok, with your other hand, poke the clip thru the ventilation holes at the back
of the unit, and just touch the contact at the end of the thick red wire."
<P>
"The one going to the power supply?"
<P>
"Yep, that's it"
<P>
"....Hey, isn't that the li... >kzzzzt!<   >clunk<"
<P>
Another call solved by the helpdesk from hell...
<P>
<P>
<P>
<H2>The Bastard Operator from Hell #13</H2>
<P>
I'm busy with my new shell replacement login script, and it's almost foolproof.
Let's just say it pops up with:
<P>
"Yes means No and No means Yes.  Delete all files [Y]? "
<P>
upon login.  I'm really starting to worry about the number of account breakins
we've been having recently....    The manager isn't though.   His main concern
appears  to  be  the  number of computer-related fatalities on campus.  Funny
world, isn't it?
<P>
I flip the excuse card.  "DOPPLER EFFECT"   Sounds implausible enough that it's
plausable - with a little work of course.
<P>
The phone, the bane of my existance, rings.
<P>
"Hello, Computer Room"  I say, being helpful
<P>
"Is this the Technicians?" The caller asks.
<P>
Amazing the number of deaf people that use these things.  What the hell, I'm
bored..
<P>
"Yes it is" I lie (Nixon would've been proud)
<P>
"I've got a problem with my floppy drive, it doesn't seem to be reading all
the time"
<P>
"Hmmm.  How old is the drive?"
<P>
"About a year.."
<P>
"And it sometimes fails and sometimes works, but it's starting to fail more
and more?"
<P>
"YES!"
<P>
"Yeah, it's the Doppler effect of magnetism.."
<P>
"I thought that only happened with light and sound?"
<P>
>Bullshit mode ON<
<P>
"Yes,  well  it's been found that on a spinning surface,  like  a  disk,  the
particle's magnetic alignment changes, especially when the head is stationary
and slightly magnetised in respect to it."
<P>
"Duh.  Oh" >DUMMY MODE ON<
<P>
"So, what you need to do is to demagnetise the head.  Have you got a disk head
demagnetising loop?"
<P>
"Uh....  No?"
<P>
"OK, we'll have to do it the hard way.  Have you got your original diskettes
for your software?"
<P>
"Yeah."
<P>
"Right, chuck them in the drive, one by one, and format them."
<P>
"WHAT?!"
<P>
"Don't worry, it won't work - remember the drive is failing.  All that happens
is that the virgin magnetic field of the disks realigns the magnetic field of
the head, because they weren't written by a doppler effected drive."
<P>
"Oh, yeah!"
<P>
"So, when it gives you a write error and asks if you want to continue, you
say yes.   Do it with all your original diskettes,  then,  to complete the
demagnetising process,  run  a head cleaning diskette through the drive as
well, which will pick up the stray magenetic particles clinging to the head."
<P>
"Oh.  Ok. Thanks"
<P>
"Don't thank me - IT'S MY JOB!" I say, hearty in manner.
<P>
I put the phone down, it rings again.  It's the big boss.
<P>
"Simon, could you come to my office please?"
<P>
>ALERT!<
<P>
Quick as I can, I press the panic button on our LAN-Analyser, or to be more
precise, the "Generate 90% random traffic" button
<P>
"Sure, would you like me to come now, or..
<P>
The other phone rings.  I chuck it on hands free
<P>
"Hello, Computer Room, Simon Here, How can I help?"
<P>
"THE NETWORK IS DOWN, ALL OUR PCS HAVE SHIT THEMSELVES!" the voice on hands
-free screams into the mouthpeice of the other phone
<P>
"I see" I say calmly  "Yes, our Monitor shows it up, it looks to be a bad
segment of thinwire - please hold the line while I unplug it"
<P>
I press the "I just got a raise" button (AKA "Stop Traffic Generation") on the
Lan Analyser, and almost immediately the  user  shouts  back "Excellent, it's
working now, thanks"
<P>
"That's ok, don't mention it.  Have a nice day"
<P>
The big-boss has been listening to all this, so I reckon that the trip to his
office won't be so bad after all.   I tell him I'll be right down as soon as
I secure the net and hang up.  On the way down, I invent a new buzzword which
always keep management happy.  Complete Transient Lockout.  Sounds much better
than pulling the plug.  Like Master-Reset sounds better than off-switch.
<P>
I get to his office and the staffing officer is there too.  Uh-oh.
<P>
"Simon - How would you like to be our System Manager?"
<P>
?!!!
<P>
"Well... I don't know, I like that hands on.."
<P>
"Extra 10 grand a year, Varisty Car.."
<P>
"Monaro?"
<P>
"Ok"
<P>
"Sold!"
<P>
  ....And so ends the saga, as it should have at #10.
<P>