Subject: BOFH #6 - #11

From: Roger Davies <[email-masked]>
Date: 14 Jan 1995 18:23:04 GMT

Bastard Operator from Hell - Episodes 6 - 11 reposted

==============================================================================
			BASTARD OPERATOR FROM HELL #6

It's friday, so I get into work early, before lunch even.  The phone rings.
Shit!

I turn the page on the excuse sheet.  "SOLAR FLARES" stares out at me.  I'd 
better read up on that.  Two minutes later I'm ready to answer the phone.

"Hello?"  I say.

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN, I'VE BEEN TRYING TO GET YOU ALL MORNING?!"

I hate it when they shout at me early in the morning.  It always puts me in a
bad mood.   You know what I mean.

"Ah, yes.   Well, there's been some solar activity this morning, it always
disrupts electronics..."  I say, sweet as a sugar pie.

"Huh?  But I could get through to my friends?!"

"Yes, that's entirely possible, solar activity is very unpredictable in it's
effects.  Why last week, we had some files just dissappear from a guys account
while he was working on it!"

"Really?"

"Straight Up!   Hey, do you want me to check your account?"

"Yes please, I've got some important stuff in there!"

"Ok, what's your username..."

He tells me.  Honestly, it's like shooting a fish in a barrel.  Twice.
With an Elephant Gun.  At point blank range.  In the head.

(Do I really need to tell you the clicky clicky bit?  I think not)

"How many files are in your account?"  I ask

"Um, well there should be about 20 in my thesis writeup, 10 or so with the
data for it, and another 20 or so in a book that I'm writing"

"Hmmm.  Well, I think we caught it just in time.  You've still got 2 files
left...  .cshrc and .login"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaggggggggghhhh!"

He sobs into the receiver a bit - it really turns my stomach.

"What can I do?" he sniffs

"Ok, do you have any of your stuff backed up on floppy?"

"Some, but it's weeks old!"

I fire up the bulk eraser.

"Ok" I say "How about I come out and load all that data onto your account
pronto so you can get some work done?"

"That'd be great, but it's all at home" he wimpers.  "I spose I'll just load
it all in myself tonight"

"Sure.  But remember what I said, solar flares are bad for disks and machines.
Protect your disks from solar activity to prevent them losing their data"

"How do I do that?  Wrap them in tin-foil?"

"NO!  TIN FOIL'S THE WORST THING!  YOU KNOW WHAT TIN FOIL DOES IN A MICROWAVE
DON'T YOU?!"

"Yes.."

"Then don't use it.  There's only one thing that protects disks from solar
activity.."

"What's that?"

"MAGNETS.  Wrap your disks up in a pillow case with lots of magnets - Solar
Flares hate that"

"Wow!  Thanks"

"No worries at all..."

Shit I'm good!

==============================================================================
			BASTARD OPERATOR FROM HELL #7

So I manage AT LONG LAST, to get a couple of hours off for lunch, AND, because
I can't leave my desk unattended, I get the janitor in and have him sit in
my chair.  I tell him that all he has to do is make sure the receiver doesn't
accidentally get put back on the hook. He agrees and I'm off.

First stop, the bank.   I change a $50 note into quarters and then ask to see
a balance of my account.  Then I yank the power lead out of the teller's vdu.
It dies.  I say I'm in a hurry and is the manager around?

He rolls over like a man-sized twinkie and asks what the problem is.  I say
that all I want is a balance of my accounts.  I cross my fingers.  YES!
He finds the vdu lead out, plugs it in, and logs in, TO THE MANAGER'S ACCOUNT.
Now's my chance - I slip up against the counter, slopping 200 coins across the
counter.  The manager ignores it, but all the tellers dive for the money.  I
watch, unobserved, as the manager types in his password at the breakneck speed
of one character a minute.  At that rate I should've got $100 worth....
He finishes typing.   "MONEY".  What a toughy!  Well, that's my mortgage taken
care of tonight...

A user that I recognise from "D(eletion) day '89" approaches.  I think he's
going to talk to me.  Even the bank manager is shaking his head furiously.
But it's too late, he stops.

"Um, excuse me, Could you tell me what is the best computer to buy to do my
thesis on?

?!

Right.

"You've heard of Commodore 64's?" I ask

"Yes?.."

"Avoid them like the plague!  Not many people know this, but computers aren't
made to handle that much memory - it's over 64,000 things, more in some cases.
It's a recipe for disaster!"

"Oh!"

"Try something safe and proven.  A ZX81 with dual cassette drive if you can
get it.  The 1K ram model.  Write that down.  Don't buy a disk drive - You
know how they're always failing, but music cassettes last forever!"

"Hey thanks!"

"No worries.  What was your username again?"

He tells me.  Just in time for D-Day 92.  You'd think they'd learn.

I get back to work and the janitor's asleep at the terminal.  I ask him if he
wants to work here too, but he likes the ability to bust in on people when
they're in the toilet...  

I put the phone back on the hook, and straight away it rings.  I hate it when
it does that, it takes me AGES to get my walkman phones in.

It's the hottest hosemonster I've ever met, and she's got a computer problem!
I love it when that happens!

"What's your username?" I ask

She tells me (as if I didn't know)

Quick as I can I read all her e-mail (mostly boring stuff), then grep everyone
else's mail files for her username.  Nothing.  Excellent!

"What's the problem?" I ask, all smiles and charm.

"I can't save my documents, it says something about space."

"Not a problem for long" I say, and delete everyone else on the same disk as
her.  "You should be fine now.."

"Thank you so much" she gushes.  
I make a mental note to do something to her account again tomorrow.
"No worries."

The phone rings almost before I've got it on the hook.

"My files are all gone!" a voice whines out at me.

"When did this happen?" I ask.

"Just now..." he says, through the tears

"I see.  Well, I wouldn't worry, there's three days till the end of the
semester, if you work day and night until then, you should get at least a C-"

He sobs a couple more times then hangs up.  What a wimp.

THE PHONE RINGS AGAIN!

"The screen on my PC is really dim" The woman at the other end says  "Should I
wind the brightness knob up?"

"NO!" I scream  "Don't touch that knob!  Have you any idea of the radiation
that comes out of that thing when the knob gets wound up?!!!!"

"Well I..." she says, all uncertain

"TAKE MY ADVICE!"  I say "There's only ONE way to fix a dim display, and that's
by power surging the drivers"

The words "power surging" and "drivers" have got her.  People hear words like
that and go into dummy mode and do ANYTHING you say.  I could tell her to run
naked across campus with a powercord rammed up her backside and she'd probably
do it...  Hmmm...

"Have you got a spare power cord?"

"No.."

"Oh well, never mind, we'll have to do the power surge idea...  Ok, quick as
you can, I want you to flick the power switch of your PC on and off 30 times"

"Should I take my disks out?"

"NO!  Do you want to lose all your data!?!"

"Oh.  No!  Ok.."

I listen carefully.. ..

..clicky..clikcy...clikky.. .. .. ...clicky.     ...cliccy..
 . . BOOM!

Amazing, it probably made it to 27 - the power supply usually shits itself
at 15 or so...

"MY COMPUTER BLEW UP!!!" she screams at me down the line

"Really?  Must've been a dodgy power supply!  Lucky we found out now!  Is your
machine still under warranty?"

"NO!"

"Dear oh dear.  Well, Best get it repaired then.  Did you backup your files?"

"Yes, to the system, Yesterday, but all this morning's work is gone!"

"Oh dear.  What was your username, I'll just check that your backups worked
ok?"

She tells me....
==============================================================================
			BASTARD OPERATOR FROM HELL #8

I'm at my desk as usual, and a user calls.

"Hello Computer Room, Simon here, How can I help" I answer

"I can't get into my account!" A user mumbles at me.

"What was your username please?" I say

They give me their username.  No worries.  I look in their account.

"No worries, it was just a badly made login file.  I've fixed it, you should
be able to login."

"Thanks!"

"No worries.   Have a nice day!"

WHAT IS THIS?  you're asking yourself.  Has the BASTARD OPERATOR FROM HELL
turned over a new leaf?  Sold out?!   GONE INSANE?!!!
Nope.  The BASTARD OPERATOR FROM HELL is being logfiled.  And if that's happen-
ing, I'm being bugged as well.  So I'm being nice till I can find the bugs.  It
shouldn't be long - bear with me.

Ah.  One in the phone handpeice.  Basic.  But then the boss is a sneaky sort,
so there's probably a couple more.  Ah!  And another in the base of the phone
and one inside my keyboard.  Time for a mad coffee-spilling frenzy.  This is
a big job, so I bring the whole jug over and wait for a witness.  The System
Manager comes in.

"Where's that report of mine?" he asks in a surly manner - he's obviously
pissed that I haven't implicated myself yet.  Antagonist Identified.  As
the Principal of "BASTARD OPERATOR SCHOOL" (me) will tell you, "There's no
problem so large it can't be solved by killing the user off, deleting their
files, closing their account and reporting their REAL earnings to the IRS"

I pull his printout from under the coffee jug where I put it, and the coffee
splashes all over the phone and keyboard, which for some reason were stacked
on top of each other.

"Woopsy!"  I say, mock horror on my face.  The System Manager's face tells
me I was right in my guess.

"Don't think you'll get away with this!" he snarls and stomps off.

I click on the ethernet monitor and watch the traffic coming out of his PC.

Ah!  A memo, authorising the termination of my contract, going to the laser in
the director's office.  I make a few alterations to the file in the spool
directory and let it go to it's destination.  I run my dinky little program
that deposits -522 to the PC and our mainframe shits itself. 

Later, while booting, I'll remove that nasty logfile business.

      Next, I wander into the comms room and plug my earphone into the spare
RS232 port in the Directors office.  It's amazing how simple it is to bug an
office once it's got data lines going to it!

Director:	"Are you sure about this?" 
SysMgr:		"OF COURSE!"
Director:	"You don't want to reconsider?" 
SysMgr		"NEVER!"
Director:	"Very well, I'll fax it to staffing now.."
SysMgr		"EXCELLENT!"

Two seconds later the System Manager strolls in smiling.
"Well, I'll really miss you Simon.." he says, full of himself.

"Oh?" I say, all sweetness and charm "Where are you going?"

"No Simon" he says, with glee "You're going"

"A PROMOTION!" I say "You've finally written that letter to the head of
staffing telling him he's a bum-sucking arse bandit and that you quit?"

"No..."

"Are you sure?  It's much better than the one about me being fired.." 

"Y.."  His eyes widen slightly

It's like clubbing a seal to death with a foam cushion.  He runs to stop the
fax.  Only, having just resigned, >clicky cklikcy< his card key no longer
works...

Ametuers...

The Phone rings.  It's the same guy as before

"I can get into my account now, but I've run out of disk"

"Hang on, I'll see what I can do"

>clicccky<...
rm -r *

==============================================================================
			BASTARD OPERATOR FROM HELL #9

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.

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...

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.

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 cousing 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.

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.

The last message I leave for tommorrow, because Saturday would be a dull day
if I ever had to work then.

The phone rings.  I thought I'd fixed that!

I put it on hands free so I can slop some pizza into the microwave.

"Yes" I call

"Something's wrong with my Boot disk, I can't login to the server"

"Have you got your disk with you?"

"Sure!"

I go get the disk and put it and the pizza in for 5 minutes on "ULTRA-NUKE".

Six minutes later, he rings back.

"It still doesn't work, and now my disk makes a funny noise and smells."

"OH SHIT!  It's that electromagnetic radiation from satellite debris again!"

"Really?  I think I heard about that!"  (What a tool!)

"Yep, I'm sorry, you'll have to buy another disk"

"Oh, that's ok, I don't mind, the old one was getting worn.  Thanks"

"Sure, no worries.  And be sure to run it through our virus checker FDISK
when you get a lot of important data on it..."

"I will!  Thanks!"

"That's Ok - it's my job!"

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.

It isn't easy on the frontline, work work work...

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.

WELL I'LL JUST HAVE TO HELP!

I walk on in.

"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.."

I should have been a teacher you know - I've got this way with people...
..

==============================================================================
			BASTARD OPERATOR FROM HELL #10

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.

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.

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.."

"What do you think of the privacy of individuals on a shared system?"

"What was your username please?"

"CMS1103"

>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?"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGH!" 

"AH.  Well, he seems to have left - must have picked a bad COMPLETELY RANDOM
example.  Next question.  You, over there..."

"CMS1136.  I was.."

"Ah yes, 1136 the only person on campus who subscribes to alt.sex.buggery.by.
sailors.dressed.in.mums.clothing"

"It's purely for research purposes!"

"I'm sure it is.  You do a lot of story posting for a researcher don't you?"

"NNGggggAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGHGH!"

"Next please..."

..

.

Two minutes later, the lecture theatre's empty. 
That's the problem with students today, they just don't want to learn.

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..

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!

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!

"Hello?"

"Hi, Um, how do I spell-check my file?"

"Simple, just type `spell' and the filename"

"Thanks"

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.

The phone rings - it's them again.

"There's something wrong with spell"

"What makes you think that?"

"Because my file is all corrupt now!"

"That doesn't sound like spell to me.  Are you logged into thru PC?"

"Yes, but I can.."

"Please, leave the technical diagnosis to me...  Now, is there a plastic ruler
somewhere on or in the desk?"

"Um >clunka<, yes..."

"Right.  You've got a static buildup on your hard-drive caused by the changing
electrostatic field generated by the ruler - the same one that makes bits of
paper stick to it when you rub it up and down your arm..."

DUMMY MODE ON

"Oh.  What do I do?"

"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."

"Oh.  OK"

>crash<

>crash<

>crash<

"Um, the screen went dark"

"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."

>crash<

>crash<

>crash<...

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....

Later, in the ambulance, I realise.  I forgot to get the guys username...

Then everything goes dark
==============================================================================
		BASTARD OPERATOR FROM HELL LIVES!   #11

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..

I died.

Of course, a true BOFH considers this not really as dying, but more of going
home for the holidays.

Five seconds later, I'm getting the upside of 15Kv across the nipples. (These
ambulance guys sure know how to party).

			BASTARD OPERATOR FROM HELL LIVES! 

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)

I flip today's excuse card,  "GLOBAL WARMING"  YES YES YES!  What a welcome
home!

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.

    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!

The phone rings.

"The Screen on my PC is blank!!!"

"It's the power cord" I say

"No, I checked that.  When I switch it on, it does nothing!"

"It's the power cord" I say

"No, I checked and it's all plugged in properly.  There's no lights on the
keyboard or anything"

"It's the power cord" I say

"Oh.  I just noticed, the cord's not plugged in properly!"

"The power cord?" I ask

"Yes...  Woopsy"

"No worries at all" I say "Is it all working well now?"

"Yes, I think so.  I'm sorry, you WERE right all along"

"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.."

I listen carefully.  Nothing.  In other words, <DUMMY MODE ON>...

"You can fix it permanently tho'" I say

"Really?  How?"

"Well it's all to do with lowering salt deposits on the metal contacts"

"Oh!"  (Dummy mode irrevocably engaged)

"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?"

"Uh, no?"

"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!

"Oh.  Ok!"

>Fzzzt< >clunk!<

I hang up as the receiver hits the floor.  Disk space is too good for them.
==============================================================================
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