I am wordless, so to speak, so I am instead sharing something my older sister Meghan wrote. She wrote this today to entertain me since I’m having a shitty day at work and needed an upper and I can’t afford meth* right now because I don’t get paid until tomorrow. Enjoy.
It’s five-thirty-eight on a Thursday. I want it to be Friday. My CEO walks in and starts chatting up with some secretary by the front. I glance at him from the corner of my slitted eyes as I pretend to be looking intently at my monitor.
This configuration for this router needs to be done by yesteryear and it’s not. Cisco 2811’s are a pain. Never enough flash, and the WIC for fiber won’t be seen by the IOS because the flash doesn’t have enough space but we didn’t have flash readily available to be replaced because it was considered an ‘extraneous’ expense and so it had to be ordered after the fact and the configuration had to wait because the fiber port wouldn’t come up in IOS until the new flash was in. And if the fiber won’t work I can’t trunk it to the switch that’s already in place at our client’s office, which, by the way, I had oh-so-clearly stated needed to be replaced anyhow before we upgraded the router.
Of course, as it’s always been, and was clearly demonstrated yet again in our last meeting, our CEO understands none of this. When I present solutions, it might as well be “blah-zee-doo-wop-ick-sen-Cisco-ess-router-meh-blah-bleh-garble-gook. But we need goo-wop-doo-yuckie-poop to actually make this work and it costs $7,800 for the finklestein and another $3800 for the yuckie-poop. Do you like my pretty picture I made in Visio? I can do it for you in crayon if you’d like!”
To which he always says “That’s great. But. Can we get it for cheaper?”
“That’s the cheapest I can get. I’ve called about 74 and a half vendors and got the price knocked down on the yuckie-poop by 28%.”
To which evil CEO says, “That’s good. Maybe we can get it down by 30? Did you try that?”
To which I stab him in the eye with a cheap BIC pen. Okay, just kidding. I didn’t really stab him in the eye.
“Yes. I tried.”
To which CEO says, “Well, maybe we don’t need a, uh, what-you-call it…Y-yuc-..”
“The yuckie-poop and the finklestein solution where I trunk them and goo-wop-doo the users is as low of a technology that will work in their current environment and they wanted gig. If we go with any lower equipment models then they’re losing productivity and we aren’t meeting their basic requirements for the upgrade.”
“But our profit-margin will be higher if you get cheaper equipment. Find something cheaper.”
And on and on and on it goes.
I realize that CEO is standing at my desk-cube thing that we humans have somehow convinced ourselves is a great place to spend 8 hours a day five days a week (or rather, quite more time than that.) My desk looks like a great Mayan civilization, but blue-colored, with Cisco routers and switches and firewalls and appliances all stacked over each other like bricks in a jungle of multi-colored cables.
“So, how’s this project going?” CEO sighs and grins, like he’s all over it and knows exactly what’s going on. He’s leaning on my cube wall cockily and his suit looks like he’s King Pin or something. But not cool or gangster or anything with any personality whatsoever.
“It’s great. The flash came in today so I installed it and the configuration is almost done.”
“Uh-huh. What was the hold-up again? Why wasn’t this done?” He smiles, like if he smiles I’ll like him and be civil.
“I just said, cause of the flash. It had to be upgraded.”
“And how long did it take to come in?”
“Uh-huh. And, uh, why didn’t you know about this before, and why weren’t you prepared?” his voice is rising. “I’ve got customers barking up my ass! You know how that feels! My ASS!”
I’m trying not to snicker. People barking in someone’s ass is probably painful. Calmly, I say, “I asked for extra flash a year ago, for this very reason. I can re-forward you the email.”
The CEO’s face grows dark and cloudy. “Really. I didn’t know that. Who turned that down?”
Pinned. I’ve been pinned. I need to think more before I speak. Of course, I know who turned my request down. But, I can’t bring myself to throw said person under the bus, since said-person was only following evil CEO’s orders and is my friend. I’ve got an idea.
“Can you help me with getting something out of the company car I used earlier to pick up some equipment, really quick?” I asked CEO. “I need something for this finklestein. It’s very important. Super-duper important.” (Okay, maybe I didn’t say super-duper, but I thought it.)
He looks surprised. “Isn’t there someone else…” We both look around. The room is empty. It’s past six at this point.
“I promise, it will only take a minute, I promise,” I assure him. “And it’s heavy and I really need it to finish the testing of this project, which, I promise, will be done by tomorrow.”
He sighs. Forgets momentarily about accounting. Really, he is as brilliant as Steve Jobs. No kidding. “This is why I don’t hire girls,” he grumbles. (In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m a girl.)
We step out into the cold, foggy night. We go back into an alley-way that wraps around the semi-industrial building where we work.
“You didn’t park in the parking lot?” he asks. “Isn’t it dangerous out here?”
“No, I parked by the loading docks.”
He says nothing. I don’t tell him, but I’ve hidden something amazing in the industrial garage unit of our building. And there’s the company truck, as promised, by the loading docks.
“Here, let me open up this door back here,” I say, heading towards the garage door. I punch in a code.
“The truck looks empty,” CEO says, peering in the darkness with his small cell-phone screen trying to illuminate his inferior vision.
“Oh, really? It was there earlier,” I lie as the giant door slowly slides open behind me.
“What? You LET IT ALL GET STOLEN?!”
CEO always jumps to worst-case scenarios, and as a result, words like “malicious” and “hack” always get brought up when people like me make honest mistakes that cause little burps in the network. Enough employees have been tossed under the bus. It’s time for this all to change.
All of a sudden there was a mighty roar. CEO turned on his heel, and his face filled with horror as his wide eyes stared up-up-upwards.
Yes. Three ups.
My gigantic Bearded-Dragon-esque T-Rex dinosaur, (yes, my very-own dinosaur!) came stomping out of the garage unit. I had spent eight years coming up with genetic material for his soul. I had stolen some from my perfect, and unusually intelligent pet Bearded Dragon, Leto, whilst some of the genetic material had come from a project called XY-Tails, which, I don’t suggest you mess with their little operation unless you’re like me and have some amazing ninja-skills as well as your own glock.
Anyhoo, that’s a whole other story. In this case, my evil, number-crunching sexist CEO got consumed like a little cricket being crunched on sweetly. Me and my Dinosaur strode home together in the night, nobody being any the wiser. He lay down on the carpet in the living room by the fire while I watched some South Park and the next day my project was done and a month later a new, awesome CEO was appointed – one who was a CCIE, thank god.
*I don’t really use meth, Dad.