emsk

Because it needs to be captured off Facebook and available for posterity.

We’re dealing with a complex issue at work. It turns out probably not to be our ISP’s fault, but I started there as it appeared to be a bizarre network issue.

I am colossally unimpressed with the ‘technician’ that it was my ill fortune to get on the phone some hour+ ago – sufficiently so that I am actually complaining to our rep at Vendor about the fact that they are a colossal waste of space.
I am rather pleased with the last paragraph in my complaint email.
“I’d appreciate it if you could pull the call logs (or arrange for a supervisor to do the same, etc), so that this ‘engineer’ can perhaps have some training in active listening and customer service skills.”

Seriously, two days later I’m still proud of that line. I maintained my calm (verbally while ON the phone) about this muppet, and my complaint only requested some training, not any disciplinary action. I am SO PROUD of myself.
Comments, liveblogged from the call:

HE JUST CALLED ME MISS
I AM FUCKING 31 YEARS OLD
ohh, he’s working with a /colleague/
to make sure he sets up the packet trace correctly
I mean, I only know how to do them with Wireshark, and it’s a bit different inside other networking equipment but OMFG IT’S HIS ACTUAL JOB LIKE HIS ACTUAL. JOB.

He doesn’t know what srv DNS records are!! Hooray!!
THEY ARE BASIC INTERNET KNOWLEDGE AS A TECH
I just heard a Skype noise or possibly viber noise in the background.

AFTER EXPLAINING IN STUPIDLY CRUCIAL DETAIL OF HOW LYNC NEGOTIATES CONVERSATIONS OVER WHICH PORTS HE GETS IT. “But I don’t see that traffic in the trace?” YES EXACTLY THAT IS WHY I AM ON THE TELEPHONE WITH YOU

I’ve dealt with amazing engineers here before. It’s not their fault they work at Vendor, after all, and I try not to hassle them about it. They know their shit, they talk to me as though I am a fellow professional, and they get it done.
This guy though. This guy. Oh my god this guy. And come to think of it I couldn’t do this guy’s job – which is, you know, why we pay Vendor to do it for us. GUUUHHHH

AHAHHAAAAA I texted my mother to whinge.
“You may not love gardening but you sure know how to shovel ….!!! You make me proud. Mum.” N’awwww Mum.

He just apologised for taking too long & asking moderately stupid questions. MODERATELY STUPID WHAT THE FUCK

Around this time I apparently became overtired and thus somewhat silly.

(8:13pm) still not king.
2:39:15 on call, 8:28pm. Still not king.
3:00:00 on call. 8:50pm. Call automatically hung up.
My hair is the prettiest.
I kind of need to pee.
3:17 on phone. Still not king.

So that was Monday.
Across Tuesday, I basically failed to get any third parties to provide external assistance, logged calls with Microsoft Premier support, etc.

Anyway, after a LOT OF WORK with Vendor and Microsoft and some beating of my head against my desk, we’ve narrowed down the issue, and it’s horrific and snarly and DNS related and I can’t even HOW DID THIS BREAK IN THE FIRST PLACE WHAT IS GOING ON.

The email I sent my coworkers about it this evening was long & complex enough that I gave up & wrote an executive summary at the top.

I love my job, I really mostly do, and problems like this are amazing to deal with – you learn SO MUCH. In fact I had that conversation with a colleague who’s had some 50-odd years at Employer – he was very nicely correcting me on a technical point, and I cheerfully responded with a “great, thank you for pointing that out, please correct it when you escalate to OtherVendor!” He went quiet for a moment, so I pointed out that I don’t mind being told I’m wrong, because that means I LEARN A NEW THING, and new things are GREAT, more new things please! That also means less wrong things next time!! Win!!!!

I was overall correct, it was a technicality that needed to be corrected. Important, but not so important as to break my overall points of where the overall gnarly problem is happening. So, you know, my ego wasn’t bruised while I was being corrected, which probably helped.

I have returned home, eaten ALL OF THE PIZZA and drunken ALL OF THE CIDER, seen my bosses’ email where he asks for a dumbed down explanation in the morning, realised I’ve drowned myself in so much technical detail of things I only JUUUST grasp that I haven’t actually managed to swim to the surface yet, failed somewhat in acronyms while wishing the lovely housemate a happy birthday, and it is probably bedtime. Yes? Yes.

Originally published at kiwi geek. You can comment here or there.

It’s been an interesting year. I spent the last couple of hours of it curled up in the snug, with Tigra and wine, with the other cats periodically checking in to make sure I wasn’t scared of the fireworks. Not a bad way to see in the new year.

I’ve gone for four or five work trips – training users on software, rolling Windows 7, assorted other bits and pieces. I’ve changed roles internally, and moved into a department I’ve wanted to be in ever since I started at this company. So far it’s going well.

I’ve danced, joined a performance group, entered Nationals, gone out socially, started teaching. I am proud of my dance achievements this year.

Operation 2012: Clean/Organise/Tidy All The Things has continued. We’re still not great at keeping the kitchen immaculate, but we’re a lot faster at returning order to the chaos (as the underlying mess isn’t present now). The spare rooms are usable, the garage is mostly free of crap, the usual dumping grounds for junk have remained fairly junk free. It’ll take time, but we’re on the right track.

I haven’t mentioned much of it online – some things just don’t belong on the Internet – but Tobermory’s had ongoing health issues, which created work issues, which he’s dealt with like a champ. It’s a work in progress, but I am damned proud of what he’s achieved personally this year. And I am proud of the way we have worked together as a couple. It’s been hard yards, but we can both be proud of the outcome.

It’s been a complete shit of a year on occasions, and there have been amazing highlights too. I’d like 2013 to be a bit less dramatic; but on balance I’m proud of my 2012. That’s a pretty good way to exit the year.

I love my new role. I love not being on helpdesk. I love that my coworkers are keen to help me, particularly when I want to be shown how to do something tedious/menial that they don’t have to do any more because I’m the new body.

I love the challenge, I love having new things to do and learn. I love having new responsibilities, new rights on the network.

I love that when the Helpdesk collapsed this morning, I could restart the server, deal with a client issue (referred to the vendor), resolve said client issue with vendor support, and also help the team by taking on a little of their workload (three people absent, plus the manager, equals a shitty shitty morning for Helpdesk).

I love that I could do that as well as my own actual workload.

I love being able to sit at my desk and work through a problem without interruptions. I love being able to actually employ all of my attention span. I love being able to noodle with a problem until the answer actually appears on the internet.

I love how my boss will tell me how to find answers, instead of telling me the answers. He wants me to learn, so that I’m a useful team member not a script-reproducing monkey. I love how my colleagues recognise my existing skillset, and use it, while helping me build upon it.

Right now, I am happy in my job. It is a damned good feeling.

I feel like a mass of contradictions, sometimes. I want to work in IT, but I also like being a homebody who cooks and sews. I want to be a dancer, but I love food, cooking and eating. I like being strong, and being independent, and I want to be at home with my husband, under his protection.

There were plenty of hot-chair eating places like the one Vimes headed for now. It sold plain food for plain men. There wasn’t a menu. You ate what was put in front of you, you ate it quick, and you were glad to get it. If you didn’t like it, there were plenty who did. The dishes had names like Slumgullet, Boiled Eels, Lob Scouse, Wet Nellies, Slumpie and Treacle Billy — good, solid stuff that stuck to the ribs and made it hard to get up out of the seat. They generally had a lot of turnip in, even if they weren’t supposed to.

I’m good at tasty / bulk meals like this, and I’d love a little hole-in-the-wall cafe with bar stools and high benches, a different meal, or maybe two at most, each day. It would have bread rolls and nice solid stoneware dishes and be wildly popular, and a little bit quirky. I would sell jam and sauces and maybe cookies and things to take away for dessert.

Practicing with a classmate the other week, we were going great guns. After a few double-speed turns, I was running out of breath and gave up the chant, in favour of counting in my head. Suddenly the whole thing fell apart, he lost time, I couldn’t figure out what he was doing, flailwaughstop.

“What happened there?”

“You stopped counting! I was lipreading!”

“I was out of breath, dude! You could… count for yourself?”

“I… I never thought of that.”

Late last year, someone cocked up. Instead of the usual “dear everyone, please do X, regards, Finance”, we received a little missive from a gentleman to his ladyfriend. He was looking forward to their anniversary, and wished her a very sexy time over the weekend. There were no names, for which we were all thankful.

I’m in the IT department. We all know who was responsible. As such, one of the admins periodically takes delight in asking the author what cost code he should charge sexytimes to…

The soundtrack in our home at the moment is the Lurgy Duet; featuring my husband on sinuses, myself on lungs, with special appearance from Ms Candy C Cat singing the Whine Aria.

We bought our tickets for the trip to the UK this December. Hooray, white Christmas?

I still can’t find a home for Candy.

I had a surprise work trip last week.

I’ve nearly finished my current salsa class. Other than some moments of despair to the effect of I’LL NEVER LEARN TO DO DOUBLE SPEED TURNS, it’s going OK. I can’t decide whether to do the next salsa course, pick up zouk at another studio and do salsa on another day (casually), do bachata on a Friday at yet another studio… I have a week to make up my mind.

I went to the first class of a performance routine. I backed out when I realised there were two lifts involved – I’m not about to ask anyone to hold my weight. Dance with, yes, dip and drop and turn, yes, hold entirely? no. I still bought a pair of new dance shoes, and will be selling the ones I’ve had since last year and wore once before I decided they’re intolerably uncomfortable.

I went to Cirque du Soleil by myself, as T had a headache. Poor man. Mum commented that, since I started dancing, I’ve gained confidence. She’s right, too. I don’t mind doing things alone, and I’ve started trying to make friends. With some success, I have a semi-regular dinner arrangement before dance with one of the women in my glass. She’s lovely, and I’m enjoying it.

T’s busy at work. It’s stressful in the right kind of way – he enjoys what he’s doing, and with the inevitable exception (there’s always one), likes his colleagues. It’s nice to have him happy with his work.

Everything changes, everything stays the same.

I’ve managed, as usual, to amuse my colleagues. Boss was complaining that she had holes in her jacket pockets, and as (upon inspection) it was just the seam in the lining that’d gone, I offered to repair it. Apparently I’m weird for having needle, thread, and scissors in my desk drawers! Boss is cheerful – no more rummaging around in the lining of her jacket for missing spare change…

The trait of having STUFF in my desk drawers – needle, thread, buttons, ibuprofen, bandaids, scissors, food, tea, misc – amused folks at my previous job too. The 19 year old, who had just (most gratefully) borrowed needle and thread to sew his trouser button back on, had a rummage in there once.

“Jeez, Mahal, what else have you got in there? A portal to Narnia?”

I was in the dunny at work yesterday – not my usual office, I was helping out at another site – and heard someone fly in to pay homage to the porcelain gods. I felt quite sorry for her – retching interpersed with “oh, god, argh” type noises.

An older lady offered sympathy and help, but whoever it was (I never saw her) was quite insistent that She Was OK, Thank You (now please go away).

I flushed, went to wash my hands, and had a thought.

“Should I offer congratulations instead of sympathy?”

“… yes.”

“Morning-afternoon-all-day sickness?”

“YES and it SUCKS. Um, do I know you?”

“Probably not! I’m just here for the day. I have an unopened water bottle. Would it help?”

“Not really. But thank you…”

Mum rang me this morning. My paternal grandmother’s had a bad fall. Nothing terribly unusual for someone of her age, sadly (she’s into her 80′s). She lives in a downstairs apartment of my aunt and uncle’s home. They were out of town and it looks like she decided to go upstairs, fell down the staircase. A family friend happened to call around, realised the dogs barking was completely out of character, and broke in through a back window. Poor Nana. She hasn’t broken anything, thankfully, but she’s badly bruised, and having heart issues.

I’m about to head out of town for a week. Our tech down in Christchurch needs a break from the earthquake zone, so the rest of us are being rotated down occasionally to cover him. This week is my turn. Tobermory and I have realised as a result that we haven’t actually been apart for that long in the four and a half years we’ve been together. The odd weekend here and there when the other person’s taken a trip somewhere, but not a whole week.

He’ll probably enjoy having the bed to himself.

The only thing I really object to about the trip, silly enough, is that it means I’ll miss a zouk lesson. I’m really enjoying my zouk classes, and I don’t want to skip one!

Policy: Skype banned on Company machines.

User: departs for overseas for two weeks. Tomorrow.

Time: 5:21pm. Friday.

User: “I want you to install Skype.”

Me: “I’m sorry, I can’t do that – policy prevents me from installing Skype on Company machines.”

User: “You won’t install it? Fine. I want local admin rights.”

Me: “So you can install it yourself? No.”

A dialogue in which I politely explain the policy for acquiring admin rights follows, in which I explain that it requires management approval at his side and mine. Along with a good business reason for the use of admin rights.

User: “What, family reason isn’t good enough? Company are sending me overseas for TWO WEEKS and YOU say I cannot talk to my wife and children??”

I explain that I do understand his position, but regardless of my personal opinions, I am required to apply company policy unless management explicitly allow an exception.

He hangs up in a hump.