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Snitch

I happened to be in the bullpen yesterday when Turbo called for me. I'd submitted a helpdesk ticket about an issue -- there's this disappearing program that he's had to install several times.

He asked me to please keep an eye out for anything I thought might be out of the ordinary -- anything that could cause damage to the program. Even if it was a denizen of the bullpen deleting the program, he wanted me to tell him. "Ordinarily I wouldn't ask you to snitch..." he said.

"I'm IT!!" I said indignantly, then amended myself. "Well, I'm IT in training. But."

He'd known I'd grok it. Ordinarily, the bullpen is a very internally cohesive environment. We stick by each other and cover for each other in the event of other departments being annoyed. However, there are some things that automatically transcend bullpen loyalty, and one of those things is end-users messing with bits of systems that they have no business messing with. I'm geek. There is no question of where my loyalties lie if things go down.

Well, perhaps the bullpen is operating without a clue, but Turbo knows. He wouldn't be asking me to poke at ports on boxen otherwise, even though I didn't quite know what he was asking or how to do it this time. I'd already come up with a list of the machines that were suffering from a particular problem a couple months ago, and I'd filed a ticket about it then. It didn't get through somehow, but I dug it up and re-sent it, and that prompted the further task. I think I saved him a lot of work anyway. There's a bit of a VNC problem. "The monitoring system" still works on the afflicted boxen. (I just learned the proper name for it. Hooray telnet fun.) So supervisors needing to see into an afflicted box are going to have to coordinate with monitors. Joy.

His ghost server is still on the blink, so profiling a dragged-in machine for the training room for me (and getting my recovered data) are both nasty little tasks. Fortunately, I have that spare HD that I can just leave in his custody. (And, since I'm not dumb, my name's on it.)

Hooray, geeking in the workplace.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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