Teoretically there is nothing that says that your computer-guy has to inform you about what he’s up to. Most of the time I’m not sure i would understand what he’s on about anyway. But there are some things, some minor little details, some inconsequential, trivial little things that I really would like to know.
Like when he changes my password.
I told myself I was done ranting about work for a while, because everything seemed to be working. Well, more or less. Well, at least the ways in which things weren’t working were starting to feel familiar.
This was a new one, though.
There i sit, minding my own business, quietly working away until I try to access one of the necessary tools of my trade and … it goes “nope. nuh-uhu. can’t do that. invalid password.” So I try again, thinking I might have accidentally hit caps lock or whatever. “Access denied.” And I get that look on my face again. Dismay. Battle fatigue. Incredulity. The computer is asking me “what’s the magic word?” and I am sure none of the ones that come to mind are going to help at all.
I have to backtrack. I have to cross my arms to keep from hitting something. I also need coffee. And a vacation. And an UZI.
Ok, so, mind like a steel ball. I should be able to work this out. You go through all the phases of denial anger bartering and acceptance. I finally figure out that the password has been changed. There’s two seconds of “oh, no, he didn’t… He couldn’t possibly have… the little… I’m gonna..” And then you have to just resign yourself to the fact that yes, he did. And no, I’m not allowed to rip off his own arm and beat him with it. Not that I wouldn’t like to. But it’s Saturday and we’ve only got a skeleton crew working and the guy isn’t here. By the time we’ll be working together I probably will be back to my normal reasonable self. There will be words, though. Some of them will be along the line of “the next time you feel the need to change my password could you please be so kind as to inform me about said change?”
There is a special hell for people who do this kind of thing. I think it is probably one of those dimensions where you speak Greek and everybody else speaks Cantonese. You can’t even read the signs. Nobody gives you a map. You don’t even know what you did to wind up there.
Well, that’s my vision anyway.
ROL
Recent Comments