Yesterday morning I knew that SAN number one
Had sync’d with two before the rising sun.
Later my workstation logged in again,
set up replication on all LUNs and then,
this morning found them each on-line and ready
having replicated all data–and still rock steady!
So for every LUN, a schedule I set
to replicate at 16:14, and I bet
the problems we had are likely resolved
so on Monday I’ll come out to install
the service center SAN, with data pre-sync’d
in the service center data room, and then I think
we’ll finally be done, up and running, and happy
and look back in chagrin at this story quite crappy
| This morning I discovered an abandoned trade-show murse in my boss’ office.
I wore the cheap canvas thing all day, making an exaggerated show of placing things in, and taking things out, of it wherever I went.
I’ve not a legitimate need for it, so I resorted to low-level kleptomania; stealing coffee mugs, pads of sticky-notes, a yo-yo, a stress toy, and others. Like a confused robin hood, I then would redistribute the stolen objects onto the desks of others.
At one point I placed a sheaf of paper to be recycled into it, walked across the office to the shredder, and then methodically pulled page after page from the bag and fed them through.
When I was done I took the staple remover from the counter and placed it into the mesh pocket I dubbed the “lisp mitten” for the feminine look I inadvertently adopted whenever I stuck my fist in it.
Later, I removed the staple remover* and replaced it with a diet pepsi that was gifted to me. This bottle is empty, but still occupies the Lisp Mitten.
I am ready to go home now and my murse’s inventory is:
- An empty plastic spill-proof coffee mug.
- A blue, lego robot fist.
- A disembodied foam head that parrots annoying catch phrases when squeezed
- A CDRom copy of Microsoft Office 97
- aforementioned empty drink bottle
- my cell phone, which expired of exhaustion some time past
I’ve decided to leave it here for the weekend. No, I’m taking it home. I guess. |
* Something it always wanted to have done.
The following is an actual email conversation which took place following a system upgrade at one of my client sites between a user and the on-site IT staff.
The names have been changed to reduce legal liability.
- _____________________________________________
From: Carmilla Richie
Sent: Monday, July 27, 2009 12:08 PM
To: Scott Dartanoin
Subject: Access denied on my personal Yahoo Account
Scott:
Why would an email in my private yahoo account be blocked by our system?
Carmilla Richie
Senior Loan Officer
crichie@mortgagematic.com
- _____________________________________________
From: Scott Dartanoin
Sent: Monday, July 27, 2009 12:09 PM
To: Carmilla Richie
Subject: RE: Access denied on my personal Yahoo Account
Did you send this to yahoo or receive it from yahoo?
- _____________________________________________
From: Carmilla Richie
Sent: Monday, July 27, 2009 12:10 PM
To: Scott Dartanoin
Subject: RE: Access denied on my personal Yahoo Account
It is a daily message that I get and it is blocked saying it is occult.
Carmilla Richie
Senior Loan Officer
crichie@mortgagematic.com
You want to read the rest of ‘My Email Was Blocked!’ so CLICK HERE!
My assignments which involve [REDACTED] are ancillary to your own [REDACTED] [REDACTIONS] and serve more as a coagulant, or perhaps a lubricant so that when you [REDACT] there is less discomfort in the [REDACTED].
My team has been meaning to talk with your team about your adorable insistence that your “marvelous” system will be capable of [REDACTED]; regardless of daylight and understanding, we have findings you may find [REDACTEDABLE].
But until logistics has confirmed that there will be additional donut or donut-related resources available to supply our expeditionary forces during their advance on Conference Room 3B we can’t risk the possibility that we’ll all be reassigned from [REDACTED] to [REDACTED].
Departmental reassignment being one of the many hazards of being caught with low blood sugar by the many bands of renegade HR associates roaming the campus of [REDACTED].
Contact me for secure rendezvous coordinates and we may be able to supply a sternly worded memo.
(07:24:26 PM) SafeTinspector: You there?
(07:24:38 PM) SafeTinspector: I am, unfortunately, working.
(07:24:44 PM) SafeTinspector: This weekend is a complete bust.
(07:25:19 PM) SafeTinspector: This is my lot in life, to type on a screen in the vain hope that another may read what I say and sympathize.
(07:25:51 PM) SafeTinspector: But what good is sympathy? It can’t set me free from my voluntary shackles of commerce and career.
(07:26:57 PM) SafeTinspector: Be thankful you have the privacy to pleasure yourself, or could obtain the privacy with short notice and but a whim.
(07:27:36 PM) SafeTinspector: I’ll have you know I could no more let my hand sink below the lip of this table than I could shop for tomatoes in the Sea of Tranquility.
(07:28:20 PM) SafeTinspector: If I did, the shocked stares! Oh, surely they could see my point. If they joined me with abandon then we’d all get some enjoyment from it–albeit one with a shakey, enbarassed silence afterwards.
(07:28:53 PM) SafeTinspector: I plan on coughing uncomfortably into the sudden quiet, into my left hand so as to avoid gooing up my chin.
(07:31:55 PM) SafeTinspector: UNfortunately I have unlimited access to regular cola. I’ve squandered it, though. I’ve wasted it by intentionally pouring it into the top of the microwave. Hopefully I won’t be found out.
