A great anecdote and the fundamentals are probably true!
(Said an ex- Maintenance man!)
I recall a time when computers -(the big bulky ones) were first being introduced at a newspaper
company I worked for. A co-worker and I lugged them in and after having to stand and watch
like two school-boys, as the newly-acquired white coat-wearing 'IT' guys showed us how to
unpack the contents, we gave them the impression that vaguely understood.
Realising that the Electrician Dept. hadn't put the sockets in the appropriate places, they requested
a number of extension cables in order to fire the computers up and prepare a networking system
that included something we dumb-maintenance guys wouldn't understand called 'the internet'.
These two state-of-the-art chaps used expressions like 'clean-lines' and 'dirty-lines' and assured us that
if a cleaner -yer' know, one of those 'lesser' people, plugged their vacuum-cleaner into the wrong socket,
then the whole fragile web of magic would go 'poof'.
Me and my mate just nodded and went about our work.
The Saturday after the installation, monitors started 'striking', flashes of interruption on the screens
as if an electrical short was somehow effecting the Journalists' perspicacious flow.
The special 'IT' guys appeared from their wire-festooned office and pondered what the matter may be.
My friend and I were on time-and-a-half pay from 6.00.am until noon on a Saturday, but if we were still
there after twelve o'clock lunch time, that rate went up to double-bubble pay.
Could it be a faulty walkie-talkie left by the operator in a tower crane on the construction-site next to us...?
What if the sensitive equipment installed by these marvels of technology was picking-up the radar from the
local airport?
It may even be industrial sabotage from a rival company?
All suggestions from the enlightened technicians who knew what 'pdf' meant.
Do you know how much extension cables cost in the UK back in the late-eighties...? Well, if you had a
choice in paying for one or just unplugging the cable that fed the water-cooler and stuffing it in your
bag in the early hours of the morning, then that's what you'd do. Surely?
And the cooler? the one with the faulty thermostat...? Why you'd just plug it into the nearest socket
if you're a Journalist, after all, you tell the plebs about clean and dirty power sources, not skilled artistes.
My co-worker waited until around 3.30.pm in the afternoon before he related to the searching geniuses
what he'd seen at 11.45.am that same day and the problem was fixed. Monday's newspaper had been
rescued by the intrepid duo with their tiny screwdrivers and multi-coloured wires.
It was another ten years before I happened to be visiting my friend's house and following him to his garage
for a tool to borrow, I noticed an extension cable hanging on a hook that I'd swear was from the place we
used to work at.
Cheers for the overtime, mate!
(Said an ex- Maintenance man!)
I recall a time when computers -(the big bulky ones) were first being introduced at a newspaper
company I worked for. A co-worker and I lugged them in and after having to stand and watch
like two school-boys, as the newly-acquired white coat-wearing 'IT' guys showed us how to
unpack the contents, we gave them the impression that vaguely understood.
Realising that the Electrician Dept. hadn't put the sockets in the appropriate places, they requested
a number of extension cables in order to fire the computers up and prepare a networking system
that included something we dumb-maintenance guys wouldn't understand called 'the internet'.
These two state-of-the-art chaps used expressions like 'clean-lines' and 'dirty-lines' and assured us that
if a cleaner -yer' know, one of those 'lesser' people, plugged their vacuum-cleaner into the wrong socket,
then the whole fragile web of magic would go 'poof'.
Me and my mate just nodded and went about our work.
The Saturday after the installation, monitors started 'striking', flashes of interruption on the screens
as if an electrical short was somehow effecting the Journalists' perspicacious flow.
The special 'IT' guys appeared from their wire-festooned office and pondered what the matter may be.
My friend and I were on time-and-a-half pay from 6.00.am until noon on a Saturday, but if we were still
there after twelve o'clock lunch time, that rate went up to double-bubble pay.
Could it be a faulty walkie-talkie left by the operator in a tower crane on the construction-site next to us...?
What if the sensitive equipment installed by these marvels of technology was picking-up the radar from the
local airport?
It may even be industrial sabotage from a rival company?
All suggestions from the enlightened technicians who knew what 'pdf' meant.
Do you know how much extension cables cost in the UK back in the late-eighties...? Well, if you had a
choice in paying for one or just unplugging the cable that fed the water-cooler and stuffing it in your
bag in the early hours of the morning, then that's what you'd do. Surely?
And the cooler? the one with the faulty thermostat...? Why you'd just plug it into the nearest socket
if you're a Journalist, after all, you tell the plebs about clean and dirty power sources, not skilled artistes.
My co-worker waited until around 3.30.pm in the afternoon before he related to the searching geniuses
what he'd seen at 11.45.am that same day and the problem was fixed. Monday's newspaper had been
rescued by the intrepid duo with their tiny screwdrivers and multi-coloured wires.
It was another ten years before I happened to be visiting my friend's house and following him to his garage
for a tool to borrow, I noticed an extension cable hanging on a hook that I'd swear was from the place we
used to work at.
Cheers for the overtime, mate!
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.