So, while I sit here cleaning my son’s laptop, because I’m a schmuck who didn’t get him a MacBook, and the fact that I’m avoiding writing further on my novel until I work out a religious problem, and I have to write something… Without further ado, Fun With Sev In The Workplace!
I had one client who had a 5 PC office. They had a Windows network and everything ran pretty nicely. I had them for years and with the exception of some firmware updates to their router, I could count the number of calls I’d had from them on one hand. Then they got a new guy, they got me to purchase a computer for him and get him up and running. So, I got him set up, he seemed to know what he was about and I was out of there. I started getting calls that their router was slow in about a week. I go in and sure enough, their router is getting hammered… but it’s not an outside attack. I narrow down the machine it’s coming from, remote in and I see the AV has been “disengaged” so that the person could install some music app. Just FYI, Spotify is an evil that does not sleep.
Anyway, I call Bossman and inform him of what was causing his problem and ask him what to do. He tells me to clean the guy’s machine and they will discuss company network and computer policies. I faxed him some of my “contracts” that the guy should have to sign and hand back in saying that if he does this again he’s responsible for my fees to clean the machine, knowing that he will be fired if it does, indeed, happen again. Most Boss types love this contract.
So I clean it up, Junior Workerman signs and everyone is happy again. Fast forward to two weeks later, and we’ve all just come back from a long holiday weekend. (I think I was at a drunken spa weekend with my besties, so maybe it was just MY long weekend). Bossman is on the phone with me personally and tells me that their router slowed down Friday afternoon and this Tuesday morning they are all but dead in the water.
Battling a nasty case of bronchitis (as it’s evidently a bad idea to go swimming when it’s cold, even if the water is heated) I drag myself to my desk, remote in, and yes, once again the router is being bent over like a hooker on nickle night. I track down the $Luser who is now a repeat offender. Then my remote session gets booted.
Oh no you di’int!
I dress (no Tiger Slippers, thank God) and head on over to their office dragging a ginormous box of Kleenex. I go the $Luser’s work area and sure enough, he’s loaded up Spotify and a lot of other crap I can’t even begin to identify. Yes, he’s made himself administrator. I’m telling you folks, nothing can piss me off faster than some half-ass jackwagon who thinks just because some frat buddy showed him “how to hack work machines” that he should do it. And then does.
When the former $Luser, who shall forever remain Fratboy, returned from the toilet, I coughed on him and shook hands. I’m a bitch that way. Then told him that A) he was fired and B) was about to owe me over $600 for the hours it would take me to clean the machine that he had b0rked seven ways to Sunday.
Did the fookin idjit even get red faced? No the mofo began arguing with me, telling me I didn’t know what the f$ck I was talking about. That went over in an office where most of the folks went to the same church, I can tell you. When I began showing him where he first went wrong and Bossman was standing there getting more and more furious, he yells at me, “How do you know that? Lot’s of people use those programs!”
So I did what any irate bitch does. I whipped out invoices I had for cleaning up “those programs”. He told me I was out of my mind. Just like the movie Hitch, call me crazy, one more time. I told Bossman in front of Fratboy that according to the ‘contract’ he’d signed Fratboy agreed to waive his final paycheck as my fees would cover every cent of it and a little more. Bossman smiled and asked Fratboy if he needed an escort out of the office. Fratboy grabbed his phone which was connected to PC and left the building in high dudgeon.
I didn’t really feel like spending the time really cleaning the machine so I reimaged the machine to a ghost I’d made the last clean up. Charged the Bossman for hours of work and made my doctor’s appointment.
Fratboy tried to sue me to get his last paycheck. I faxed his attorney a copy of the signed, dated and witnessed contract he’d signed with his employer with “Checkmate” on the cover sheet. I laughed so hard thinking that now he had to pay attorney fees.
I wonder, sometimes if perhaps I am an instrument of Karma. I doubt it though. I work with computers and people. It’s almost a given that the stupid is thick.