Coping with the I.T. Department

Do you get along with your I.T. Department? I'm spending my 9 to 5 these days as a supervising network engineer. Maybe reading this will take some stress away from your day when you have a computer problem, and have to reach out to the I.T. Department.

Here are some things to consider:

First, the computer: 
For many people, when they see a computer, something in their brain shuts off. I'm talking about intelligent people who know how to behave around a computer, or can learn how to behave around a computer, but some Pavlovian prank occurs in their brain that prevents them from doing so. So what can we do about this?

Picture, if you will, a VCR. (If you're too young to know what a VCR is, or remember having one in your home, you're probably not who this section is intended for. If you'd like to follow along anyway, picture a DVD player instead. Didn't have a DVD player? How about a Wii U, Xbox One, or PS4? A Television? A microwave?) The VCR sat on top of your television set (that's the fat kind, not the flat kind) plugged in to the wall for electricity, and the TV to get it's signal onto your screen. The VCR got its signal from either an antenna inside or outside, or cable, or a satellite dish, so it was plugged into probably another box or another spot on the wall. As long as all of the cords were plugged in and not faulty, and there was electricity, and your TV was on the right channel, you would at least get a picture on your screen. Want to watch a movie? Pop a tape in there and hit play. Life is good.

But that's a lot of conditions already just for a VCR, isn't it? Power in, signal in, signal out, TV/VCR mode, tuner mode, power to the TV, TV channel, the tape itself, tracking, did you hit play?

Suddenly, the VCR seems pretty complicated - but it didn't seem that way when you were recording Magnum P.I., did it? Sadly, the majority of problems are caused by things not being plugged in. But that's not really even what important. Here's what's important. You wouldn't kick your VCR so hard that it tumbles onto the floor several times over a two or three week period, and then blame the VCR repair man when he says it was damaged by the kicks and falls since it worked after the other five times you kicked it onto the floor? But that happens. Your desktop at work bulk ordered from Dell is not one of those hardened military laptops that are designed to survive war - it's the cheapest damn thing your company could buy that would actually work. Also, if you ever had a collection of potted plants on your VCR, and then blamed the VCR repair man when the VCR broke and when he opened it, potting soil and dead leaves fell out, and there were obvious signs of water damage, please stop reading this and promptly kick yourself in the ass - FIRMLY. I've found this, and other disgusting things, inside computers that were "running just fine" yesterday "so it couldn't possible be all this garbage I let get in it since I've been letting garbage get in it for ages!"

So be at least as gentle with your computer as you would a VCR.

Second, The Help Ticket System:
If your company has a help ticket system, use it! Don't try to get in the front of the line with a phone call or email. Here's why: The I.T. department is busy! Even if nothing breaks there is a lot of work that needs to be done to keep things running - especially if your company has any sort of compliance (I'm looking at you schools, healthcare providers, and/or any company doing business with any government entity). You're rolling your eyes right now, aren't you? Almost all of the work a network tech/admin/engineer does, even if it's on equipment in another state, is done from his or her desk. Desktop techs/admins, on the other hand, will be up and about more often, but even in the right set-up, they can get everything done from their seat. So just because you don't ever see the person leave their office, doesn't mean that they're not busy.

Oh, that's not why you were rolling your eyes, is it? It's because you know that you can get the I.T. department to handle your stuff first if you just show up in their office or call them, isn't it? Well, then that's the I.T. department's fault, but by order of management, that doesn't fly where I work.

Finally, the annoying questions:
Every dang time I talk to I.T., they ask a million boring questions and I JUST WANT THEM TO FIX IT! Well... WE'RE TRYING, DAMNIT! That's what the questions are for. And I know some of you feel like when we're asking these questions, it's because we don't believe you. That's not the case. It's not like fixing a flat tire where you can just say "The tire is flat" and the repair person will say "Okay we'll replace it with a new one". They never ask "When did the tire become flat? Where were you driving when it happened? How fast were you going? Has it happened before? Was it just one tire or all four? Did the other people you could see on the street also get flat tires?" Wouldn't it be nice if computers were like tires, and we could just fix them without knowing what was wrong?

But computers are not like tires. If you have a problem, and tell us that it's happening to everyone, you're not only going to get a faster response, you're going to get a faster response of us looking in the absolute wrong direction, which means that it will take longer to fix. If it's just your computer (as far as you know), and you tells us that, then we will probably know where to look first, and you'll be fixed in a matter of minutes instead of hours. We need to know when it started in order to find a correlation with other events - either in firewall logs, or workstation logs, or maintenance logs, or maybe there is no correlation, and it's an isolated event.

And finally, the most annoying question of all is when we ask you to show us. Maybe it's a website that doesn't do what it's supposed to. Well, we're going to ask to see it. Maybe an error message comes up when you're running a program. Not only do we want to see the error message, we want to see exactly what you did when the message appeared. This is called replicating the problem and is the absolute crux of any troubleshooting process, whether it be cars, mechanics, or even I kid you not sometimes the doctor will tell you to move your elbow in the way that causes pain when you tell her that moving your elbow a certain way causes pain. Replicating the problem allows us to see a lot of other details that you may not have picked up on. To no fault of your own, of course! We're the ones trained to look for these things.

So back to the website example: I'm going to either be sitting next to you with my own laptop, or connected to your computer via remote access. I'll ask you to click that thing that didn't work again, and while you plainly see that it's not working, I'm also checking for any indication on your screen, watching your event viewer from my computer, and probably watching traffic cross (or get blocked by) the firewall in real time. Was the problem with your computers operating system, browser, browser plugin like Adobe, Flash, ActiveX, Java, or your antivirus? Or maybe it was actually something interrupted by a faulty switch or router. Or maybe the firewall detected an unsafe element on that page and has decided to block it.  Maybe there's a problem with the Internet Service Provider's connection? Or Domain Naming Service? Or the web server it self? I once had a director call me at home at 8PM because she was being "blocked" to a certain website and wanted me to fix it immediately when it turned out the owner of the website she was visiting hadn't paid their damn website bill and the hosting company took the website down until they paid the next morning!

So yes, we're going to ask you to show us the thing, whatever it is, not working. And yes, we're going to ask you to do this multiple times while we change certain variable to get a solution working. No, it's not because we don't believe you, and no, you don't have to cooperate if you really don't want to - only cooperate if you want us to be able to fix your problem.

Honestly, there are a lot of jobs computer science degrees or various computer certifications can get you in to, and many people go into Information Technology (i.e. support) because they enjoy helping people. We want to fix the thing that isn't working. Help us help you.

Hopefully, if you've read this entire rant, you'll be able to take a deep breathe and work with the I.T. crew in order to have a less stressful experience. Because that's what I want. I want you, the end-user, to have a less stressful day. Aren't I nice?

Big Dumb Ape

(This is from my smartphone, so, no spell check. Your corrections will be pronptly ignored.)

 Late last night I did something I thought I'd never do. I became enraged by something I read on Twitter. Before I go any further, I want to get something out of the way: I don't choose a side in the whole Christianity v. Atheism debate because there are a whole bunch of fucking morons on both sides. I have my belief, other people have theirs, and as an American, I respect that. (To our international readers: Yes, we in the United States refer to ourselves as Americans, meaning only U.S. Americans. Yes we know that te word 'American' applies to anyone on either American continant. No, I won't apologize.)

For the record, I was raised Roman Catholic, and, for the most part, that's what I believe. No, I don't hate Athiests. If I did, I wouldn't have married one. I still hug my athiest family members when I see them. I hug the religious ones too.

So anyway, this pretentious ass on Twitter (whom knows a very good friend of min in real life) decides that every one who has a religion is not only less inteligent than he and his comrads, but that they (we) are deserving of his hatred. I'm sorry, but I'm pretty sure that in The Dark Ages, it was that type of rhetoric that led to the so called Holy Wars, something that athiests use as an argument against structured relgion. Does anyone else see a sort of hypocrisy here? It's a few degrees of severity short of "Kill the un-believer!" There were actually two of these pretentius mother fuckers on Twitter. I told them how much their hate-speech reminded me of Al Queda. Then I unfollowed these two atheists because I tryh not to associate with religous extremists.

And if you think I'm preaching some kind of touchy feely everybody love your neighbor bullshit, well, fuck you. We're all in this shit together so don't be such a fucking dick because you can't get along with people who are different than you because you never learned to share or play with others as a child and when mommy changed your poopey diaper she wiped your little tushy and put powder on it and told you it was special and different than every one elses. WELL THIS IS REAL FUCKING LIFE SHIT BIRD AND YOU WON'T ALWAYS HAVE A KEYBOARD IN BETWEEN YOU AND ME! I mean shit, that guy hates me! He said so himself. And all because I was taught a magic man in the sky did some stuff and I didn't find that to be in conflict with science. If you read a book you would know that while many physicists are athiest, many are not. Just sayin.

And now, a less than eloquent segue:

I felt like they were saying I'm nothing more than a big dumb ape. And you know what? Sometimes I kinda like being a big dumb ape. Aww hell, I always like being a big dumb ape. But I don't see many other big dumb apes who have accomplished many of the things I have. Not many other big dumb apes can say they've made a difference. Matter of fact, remember those people I was talking about earlier, the ones who hate me because I'm not like them?

You know what? I'm not even going to go there. I'm not that much of a dick.

I am a dick though. At work, a vehcile approached a remote operated gate. I tried to communicate with this fine gentlemen, but he became increasingly annoyed with my efforts to ascertain his desired destination, as I am required to do by our S.O.P.

He had some choice language for me and as he entered the building, his gibberish rage subsided once he saw the big dumb ape whith whom he was conversing. A look of meekishness befell him, as he tried to side step his way past my checkpoint.

I looked at him, and gestured for him to come to my desk. I asked him - POLITELY AND PROFFESIONALLY - to present his identification and report his destination. And as I signed him in, his courage returned and he said "You gotta git your fuckin hearrin checked, mannn!"

I stood up, started the scitzo blink and was honest about my hearing loss: "In two thousand and three, a big FUCKING bomb went off right next to my FUCKING head and ruined this ear and I'M A LITTLE FUCKING SENSITIVE ABOUT IT."

He apologised and started talking about the war.

"I was never in the military. IT WAS MY BOMB!"

He left afte that. I don't know why. 

An Avalanche

I've got blogs. This is a new blog. It has no purpose.

Early to bed and early to rise. makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise. But I work nights, so I'm going to remian a poor, stupid fat guy. Whatevs. It's late. I just got off my four to midnight shift, and can't sleep because I usually do midnight to eight. I was supposed to be in bed by two, but that hasn't happened. I'm downstairs, here, trying to be as quiet as possible, and it's just not working out, because I'm an oaf. A big fat clumsy oaf. And I also purposely ignore grammar while blogging to have a better "flow", so fuck off. Oh, I also swear.

I'm down here trying to watch some Netflix on my Xbox, which is like some Jetson's level shit, without making any noise. I'm also trying to read the news websites and Twitter and Facebook. I reach for the keyboard, and knock over my drink. "OH GOD DAMNIT!" Look for the paper towels, they're gone. Close my thumb in the cabinet. Run upstairs, like a ninja. Trip, on the stairs. Stub my toe on the wall. Knock the soap off the bathroom sink. Grab toilet paper. Run downstairs. Clean up spilled drink. Baby wakes up. Run upstairs. Baby's asleep. Run downstairs. Cat knocks something down, loud as hell. 'GET OFF THE TABLE!" Cat runs, knocking more stuff down. How the hell is the whole house not awake right now?

I'm hungry. They say it's never good to eat after eight, but whatever. I open the cupboard as the cat noisily vomits out whatever he had initially knocked over, and decide on the nutritiousness of Frito's left over from chili pie. With the precision of a brain surgeon, and the tenacity and motivation of a squirrel on methamphetamine, I gingerly reach into the cupboard. Like a ninja, I pull that bag out of there. It does not - I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH: IT DOES NOT FUCKING TOUCH A THING - and yet, some how, the jar of innocent looking creamy peanut butter comes flying off of that shelf like a whore poltergeist in heat, and tumbles down onto the dish rack, which is, somehow, packed full of pots, pans, and baking sheets.

WHAT THE FUCK?!

It tumbles down, spinning like a top, and collides with every metallic object on that rack. Every. Damn. Thing.  I, of course, let out a swear. But, since I swear so much in my casual everyday conversation - you know, at work - I use one of the swear words that my brain still considers to be an actual swear word, which, is not really a swear word at all. "BALLS!" which was promptly followed up by "FUCKING GOD DAMN SCROTUM SNATCHERS!" (That's right. If you've ever heard swears like this on Xbox Live, you were playing with NozeDive)

Some how, by some miracle, I manage to catch everything and hold them in place. I gingerly start to let go, testing the stability of this newly created crag of a pot and pan mountain, and marvel at the avalanche of silvery noise that, by all rights, should have awakened Cthulhu himself. 

But, no one woke up! So I just cut my losses, left the Jiffy where it lay, and take my Frito's into the living room. Do I feel good at this point? No. How do I feel? I feel like Jodi Foster on that pinball machine, that's how I feel!

So, you see, I am a klutz. The kind of person, who, upon trying to open a jar, can immediately and instantaneously coat the kitchen floor in shards of broken glass, brine, and pickle fragments. The kind of person that would accidentally cook their own hand (second degree burns suck). The kind of person who can break their own ankle by tripping over literally nothing.

Not the kind of person you'd want around your kids, since they, like glass pickle jars, are very, very fragile.

Did I mention I'm a father?

Also the kind of person you don't want in charge of anything dangerous, or that could put some one's life in the balance.

In the past, I have manufactured and detonated high explosives, rockets, missiles, and other projectiles.

I am an FAA certified pilot. That means I go to the airport, strap on an airplane, and blast off into the sky above your heads.

I used to work in a medical facility where I operated machines attached to people that, if they were to malfunction, or there was some operator error, could kill the "patient". (Sodium Citrate poisoning, air embolism, blood infections such as AIDS, you get the picture.)

And now, as in the past, I work in law enforcement, in the realm of in house security. I work on what is essentially a private police force in a scary apartment complex (ask me more about what I mean by 'scary' later). I am a patrol officer, and yes, I carry a gun. The man who once accidentally COOKED HIS OWN HAND is entrusted with a firearm in a law enforcement capacity.

It's not my place to question the judgement of those who put me into a position of responsibility. I mean, shit, those guys are fucking crazy.

Goodnight.