“In, prison, a security guard locks and unlocks all the doors for you. At work, you have to carry around a security card and unlock and open all the doors yourself. In prison, you can watch TV and play games. At work, you get fired for watching TV and playing games. In prison, you get your own toilet. At work, you have to share a toilet.”
“Sir, I’m timed on each call. I have to resolve issues in a timely…” once again he tries to intercept and re-take control of the situation, but with no success. In his frustration, William grabs a yellow sharpened pencil from his desk drawer and starts to lightly beat down on his penitentiary green work desk.
He starts to fiddle and play with the white eraser until it finally gives way and breaks, only to bounce off, hit his dark red camp shirt, and begin to roll under his desk. As he pushes his office chair back and starts to crawl on the filthy snack sprinkled burgundy carpet, dirtying the knee areas of his loose fitting dark blue tech pocket pants, his troubled caller continues on.
Continue reading “Help Desk, How may I help you? Part 2”
On a Wednesday afternoon, at a small desk, in a cramped, long, dirty gray office trailer; right outside of an old dark urine colored building going through its third year of construction, sits an ordinary guy answering help desk calls for the Byte Corporation.
“Help desk this is William. How may I help you?”
“Yes,…I can’t figure out something on my computer,” responded a frustrated older male voice. His leathery, worn and tattered face smothered with wrinkles and sadness could somehow be seen over the phone.
“Maybe I can help. What’s your problem?”
“Well I’m looking for the meaning of life on my computer. The guy at the store said I could find it with this new model that I just bought, although, I don’t see it anywhere.”
Continue reading “Help Desk, How may I help you? Part 1”
“This is the new extra help from the BIA. His name is Frank Nickels,” Phil painfully introduced him.
“Nice to meet you, my name is Gertrude Albatross. I manage the Business around here,” she said with a very polite smile and demeanor.
Frank was shocked by the brutal display, but he went along with the charade because he had a mission and still no leads so he said, “Nice to meet you too.” He partially smiled and stayed far away from her.
She focused her scowl back on Phil and said, “My computer is infected with a virus Phil, and you know why.” She picked up an old wooden chair that was close to a table. She then smashed it on him and it broke in two. He fell to the floor reeling in pain, then started to crawl over to where Frank was standing.
Continue reading “It’s only Thursday Part 6”
“Call me Phil,” he said as they walked to the technology room.
Once he unlocked the door and let Frank in he was amazed at how large it was. It had four sections to it. There was a very dark corner section that looked like it had ancient artifacts of the I.T. industry in it. One section seemed to store supplies like printer toner cartridges, spare computers, monitors, and other ready for use equipment. Another section was where Phil obviously did administrative work and then there was an entire other room. It was a special room.
As a part of the special room there was a locked door and a glass window to allow viewing. This small room housed the server rack that had the network servers, network router, and switches. He pointed out that it had its own air conditioner, as well as the whole room used solar panels on the roof for power, and it could work on twelve hours of an uninterrupted power supply in case of black outs.
Continue reading “It’s only Thursday Part 5”