Every once in a while - not often mind you - I simply cannot handle the fact that every single user in this building sincerely believes that IT should be responsible for the contents and information which might be relevant to the success and well being of their corporate health and personal job security BECAUSE IT IS CONTAINED ON EITHER A MICROSOFT WORD DOCUMENT, AN EXCEL DOCUMENT OR TRANSMITTED VIA EMAIL!
Don't... don't care?
As a 36-year-old IT Manager, I guess the Dell Catalog isn't really geared toward me. I ran across a two-page ad on their new XPS desktops and laptops which read, (lower case 'g') "get right up in their grill." After asking around, I discovered that today's youth who primarily associate themselves with the "hip-hop" lifestyle, now wear jewelry on their teeth. In my limited understanding of these things, they apparently transform your mouth into something which represents the front grill of a car. So in fact, if you were to purchase this XPS, and game on it, you could in fact "get up in your [opponents] teeth." (possibly face but I'm unclear on the distinction.) Fantastic!
One of my Desktop guys places the song 'Grillz' by some rapper named 'Nelly' on my computer and auto-launches it for me. Nice.
It's a problem of motivation, all right? Now if I work my ass off and Initech ships a few extra units, I don't see another dime, so where's the motivation? And here's another thing, I have eight different bosses right now.
Two nights ago (I don't know why I never managed to write what I actually dreamed the night before) I dreamed that my father and I were cleaning the house, or a shed or something, and we found a like-new, perfectly functioning record player which was simply dusty. We cleaned it up and it sparkled! We hooked it up to the computer and ripped his LP of Boys from Brazil. What a nice dream! I think I'm obsessing about that soundtrack. I even did a title search on DirecTV to see if it was in the wings (of course it wasn't). Bah!
It's been a busy, stressful week at work. I arrive home exhausted every evening, and here lately not at all on time. Wednesday night I grilled (get right up in their grill) chicken and my wife prepared a bed of salad to place it on. It was fantastic. We drank a bottle of spatlese with dinner, then sat on the back deck and smoked cigars while the kids played inside. Last night, it was the same chicken on a bed of mixed carrot and spinach couscous with straw mushrooms - again, fantastic. Then cigars & brandy on the deck while watching the children swim. That really does help take the stress out of my day.
Eight, Bob. So that means when I make a mistake, I have eight different people coming by to tell me about it. That's my only real motivation is not to be hassled, that, and the fear of losing my job. But you know, Bob, that will only make someone work just hard enough not to get fired.
The real-live Bob's we're currently dealing with have created a website which allows us to put in our time in 15 minute intervals. As dumb as that sounds by itself, the web page they've created times out every 15 minutes and requires another login. How ignorant is that? So - the guy who mocks me openly with "what do you use that linux box for anyway, huh?" (which I had to give up to put on a users desktop a few weeks ago) asks me, "What can we do about this?" To which I reply, "If I had my linux box..." so I'm thinking of trying one of drax0r's wget scripts, possibly trying to encapsulate username and password in a secure socket layer to play keep alive. I don't know if it will work, but I'll give it a shot. Assholes.
Robert William Kramer
1944 - 2006
Robert William Kramer, 60, passed away Saturday, July 1, 2006, in Arlington.
Funeral: 1 p.m. Saturday, July 8, in Arlington Funeral Home Chapel.
Memorials: Texas Girls Choir, 4449 Camp Bowie Blvd., Fort Worth, Texas 76109.
Robert was the son of E.W. and Dorothy Kramer of O'Neill, Neb. A 1962 graduate of O'Neill High School, he attended the University of Nebraska in Lincoln in 1971.
Robert served in the National Guard 1962-1966. He retired in November 2005 from National Cartography and GEO Spacial Center, Fort Worth.
He was a loving father and grandpa. He will be fondly remembered.
Survivors: Son, Cathan and wife, Gale, of Burleson; daughters, Lauriann and husband, Dusty, of Arlington and Caitlin of Fort Worth; Granddaughter, Robyn; brothers, Tom of Los Angeles, Calif., and Todd and Bruce of Lincoln, Neb.; and sisters, Beth of Minneapolis, Minn., and Rene of O'Neill, Neb.
One of my first jobs at my last client was to put Big Brother monitoring on all the servers there. I was given my own box to build-out as I desired and to just 'make it happen.' That's what I do, so no big deal. There were four boxes I did not have root access to, so I emailed the owner of the box asking for privileges so I could accomplish my task. The next day, I get this nasty email back from this surly bastard, "Don't you touch my boxes. Don't you ever touch my boxes!" Hmmmm. Taken back a bit, I ask around. "Oooooh, that's Bob. Don't mess with Bob." It seems he'd been in government service so long, and was so surly, that every one was afraid of him.
Not one to back down from a challenge, I peer over at his desk - messy to be sure - and get the lay of the land...lots of empty coffee cups. I bring in some cream & sugar the next day just in case. I make a strong pot of coffee at my desk and have a cup. When that's finished, I pick up my pot and announce, "I have a pot of fresh Starbucks I can't finish, would any one like a top off? You sir?" As I peer into his cube. He accepts and I introduce myself. When he tells me his name, I mention, "Oh of course, you sent me that email..."
We became (not 'tight' exactly) but he came to respect my opinion and I often consulted with him. He sure was a surly bastard - to those who were afraid of him, but never to us, the unix guys on his team.
Take care Bob.