A User's Diagnosis

The standard part of any support call is when the user tries to diagnose their own problems. If they can't print in A3 landscape they'll ask if I think it's a virus. If their monitor has a blue tint and has gone blurry at the corners they'll ask if it's a virus. If their mouse suddenly has all the manoeuvrability of a shopping trolley they'll ask if it's a virus.

No, I say, it's never a virus.

I don't really mind this sort of thing. I don't think they're trying to be helpful as such, I just think they're trying to come up with something to talk about with someone they don't know. It's like if I have a plumber round, I'll try to talk about what's wrong but since I know almost jack about plumbing it ends up being a bit of a one-sided conversation.

A little while ago I was talking to one user and, while she was quite charming, her attempts at diagnosis were extraordinary. Let's call her Sue.

Sue had a lot of problems on her computer: it was slow, it had things running it shouldn't have, it had software that was out of date. It was a bit of a mess. While I was working quickly, this was still taking a while and so we had a long meandering conversation. We were chatting away amiably enough when she dropped her first diagnosis:

"I think it might be haunted by my dead husband"

I laughed out loud. Thankfully so did she. I said that was the first time I'd heard that one. She then told me how her husband had died a year ago and what a lovely chap he was. He sure sounded like a swell guy.

The conversation carried on until at some point she whispered to me in a conspiratorial way. "Listen" she said.

I listened.

"Just after 9/11, I started to get these weird e-mails."

I raised an eyebrow.

"They claimed to be from someone in Al Qaeda. Well naturally I reported these to someone in IT, but they told me there was nothing they could do. They said I should just reply to them and tell them to stop. Well, I didn't think that was a good idea."

At this point I was frantically rummaging through my memory trying to think if anyone ever asked me about missives from Al Qaeda. I'm pretty sure they hadn't. I agreed that responding to terrorists was probably not a good idea.

"Well exactly," she continued, "so a few days later I said to someone in IT that if something wasn't done I would inform the Home Office. Well, shortly after that I stopped getting the e-mails, which was a relief. But then things started happening with my computer, it became slow and strange things happened."

Yep, she genuinely believed her computer was slow because it had been infiltrated by Al Qaeda in revenge for her stopping their e-mails.

Clearly she's a bit nuts, but quite charming with it. It's calls like this that make me wish I spoke to users more often.

When Late Night Work Goes Wrong

I don't know where you work but it's very likely that your IT department has sent an e-mail to your entire company. It probably said that the e-mail server or an important application would be down in the evening. You probably looked at it, wondered why you'd care that e-mail was down at 7pm when you'd doubtless be at home eating a Marks & Spencer's curry, watching a nature documentary and just dismissed it from your mind. Quite right too.

For people like me, sending e-mails like that is a pain in the arse. Staying behind at 7pm is also a pain in the arse. But mostly I stay behind, do the work and all goes well

The problem is sometimes it all turns to shit, and when it does it usually goes something like this:

1. A simple plan. You've planned the work you're going to do and a rough schedule. Naturally you've made it as simple as possible and told everyone exactly what they need to do and when. The plan is so simple we'll probably finish early!
2. Like clockwork. It's all on track and everything is going better than expected. Call the wife and tell her you'll be home early!
   
3. Oh shit. Something goes wrong and suddenly it dawns on you that this is not going to be simple after all. This is when you get that sick feeling in your stomach; this is going to be a late one. Even worse: What if we can't fix it? Suddenly you feel trapped in the office, and you could be there for four hours, twelve hours, maybe more.
   
4. The magic hour. An hour later that problem is magically solved and it looks like you're back on track. Everyone breathes a sigh of relief, smiles, laughs and thinks about what they'll be watching on TV tonight.
5. One more thing (AKA Oh shit, Part II). Ah yes, just one last trivial thing you need to test, so small you nearly forgot about it entirely. Oh shit, it doesn't work. Get your coats off lads, we need to get this fixed.
6. The longest day. Now you need to work out what's wrong. Everything else functions except this one thing and that doesn't make any damn sense. You try to work through the options logically but just can't see what's gone wrong. It's late, everyone is tired and brains are starting to shut down. Nothing seems to work any more.
7. Monkey flingers. In total frustration every stupid, dumb and destructive idea is either discussed (good) or enacted (really bad). As each idea gets shot down in flames everyone gets more frustrated. This isn't getting us anywhere and we all just want to go home!
8. Inspiration. In all this desperate looking around someone has found something that looks wrong - it's a bit of a long shot but it might just work! Everyone get's their hopes up. It works! Now it's fixed, theories are developed as to why it went wrong.
   
9. Are we there yet? There's no smiling and laughing this time, just weary relief. Someone asks if there's anything else we should test; everyone else hisses at that person to shut the fuck up. It's late, the streets are empty and the trains have stopped running now so people need to work out who's getting a cab with whom and who's going to pay.
10. The morning after. The next day no one in the company is aware of the panic of the night before. This is the desirable however it also means nobody gets any recognition. Ah well, I'm afraid that goes with the territory.
    

And people wonder why I dread late night work.