Category: General

Another true tale of tech support.

B. and I were looking at a user’s computer, trying to find where the user had saved the picture that had been displayed as the desktop wallpaper. Had been, that is, up until I changed the picture to something else and tried to change it back – tried and failed, because for some unknown reason choosing the picture’s name from the list in the Display Properties control panel, “Desktop” tab, had resulted in an utterly blank black desktop, not the forest scene it was supposed to be.

The user had mentioned that her daughter had taken the picture, and emailed it to her, so B. and I were searching through the user’s email trying to find the original picture, so we could put it back. Scanning through the Inbox and Deleted Items folders, I didn’t see anything that looked like it came from a) outside the county, b) had a girl’s name, and c) had an attachment. It took me only a fraction of a second to scan each folder.

One more place to check. I’m not sure how well-known this feature is, but Outlook saves deleted items for a while, and even after something is deleted it can be recovered. The option is under the Tools menu, and is called “Recover Deleted Items…”, obviously enough. As I brought up the list, in less time than it takes for me to write this out, I had scanned the list and determined that the email we were looking for wasn’t in there, either – and it only went back a week. We didn’t know when the daughter had sent the picture but it must have been before that. Damn. I closed the window.

B. finally spoke up. “You could tell that quickly that it wasn’t in there?”

“Sure,” I said, and I opened up the window again. I pointed with the mouse as I rattled off what I saw. “These are obviously from other County folks, these are from outside the county but not female names, these don’t have attachments, and these three are obviously spam.”

She looked at the ones I thought were spam. All that could be seen was their names, “Alexina Esty”, “Prince England”, “Aniseed G. Ferrocious”, and a generic subject line, the same one for each email, FW: About thatt date. “Those are all spam?”

“Uh, yeah.” I looked at my co-worker. “You mean you can’t just look at those and tell that they’re spam? Between the names, and the fact that they all have the same subject line, misspelled in exactly the same way, they just stand out to me.”

I smiled. “But, then, maybe I just get a lot more spam than you do. My filter is better.”

PS: We couldn’t find the picture again. It was gone. But the user had her daughter send her another copy, so it turned out OK in the end.

I sat down at J’s computer. She was getting her stuff ready to go out in the field, and I was here to hopefully solve a problem she’d been having getting into a database her work team used. I was here at the request of one of the County’s application developers, who had first noticed the problem.

J was a tall, straightforward to the point of being blunt, black woman in her (I’m guessing here and I’m bad at ages) late 30s, who worked as a parole officer for Multnomah County. And I was the computer tech who was supposed to keep her desktop computer working.

My plan was to simply do exactly as the developer had said in the “trouble ticket” – uninstall and reinstall Microsoft Access 2002. But opening up the Add/Remove Programs control panel and scanning the list, Access wasn’t a listed item. It’s a part of the Office package.

Did I want to uninstall all of Office? What would that affect? Would it break something?

I was glad that J was leaving the office. When I have to poke around and guess and try different things, to the untrained eye it can look like I don’t know what I’m doing, that I’m being… unprofessionall. So it’s nice that she wasn’t going to hang around, look over my shoulder, and ask a lot of questions.

Except she wasn’t gone yet.

She reached past me to pick up a sheaf of papers, to stuff into her briefcase. “Pardon me” she said, after the fact, but with a smile in her voice.

It was well after lunchtime, and I had hardly gotten anything finished today. I had a list of things I wanted to get done, and hours ago it had seemed like a slam-dunk that I would get all these things finished or fixed and still have time left in the day. But now, that was very much in doubt. Things that should have been easy had magnified in complexity somehow, and missed communications with my teammates and a scarcity of resources, like, say, network cables or power cords or a freakin’ hand truck, had imposed themselves between me and my job satisfaction at the end of the day.

It wasn’t a huge deal. I mean, no one was going to die because I didn’t get these things done. As far as I know, anyway. OK, actually, I try not to think about that. Except that now (now!), there I go, thinking about it.

I picked up the phone next to J’s computer. I tried calling T, my friend and co-worker at the Help Desk. She takes these calls all day long, and does it with a smile, and I needed to talk out loud and ask her if what I was seeing was the norm.

I reached her voice mail. Damn. Hung up. Left no message.

I sat there for a moment, holding the phone halfway between my head and the cradle, wondering what to do.

J’s voice interrupted my reverie. “Oh, are you done already?” She was putting on her bullet-proof vest.

“Hmm? Oh, no. I was…” just asking someone else for help but they’re not there… “thinking about the next step. I need to uninstall Microsoft Access but it’s not in the Add/Remove Programs list.”

“OK” she said, “That sounds great.” She paused. “Except I have no idea what you just said.”

I laughed. “Oh! Sorry. I couldn’t do your job, either!” I smiled. “It’s just that I came here to do two things, and it looks like I can’t do the first one, so I’m going to move on to the second thing now.”

“OK, sounds good.”

I got up and went back to my computer, hidden in the dark recesses of the buildings’ server room. My next step was to set up a network install of Access. I hoped it would over-write what was already there, and do it cleanly. Y’know… without breaking anything. But one can’t ever tell with Microsoft products. It’s a crapshoot. But hey, it can’t get more broken than it already is, right?

Computer techs hate rhetorical questions like that, and rarely ask (or answer) them.

I tried calling Terri again. No answer. I sent an on-screen message to her computer, asking her to call me at the number in the server room, just in case she was at her desk but on a call with another customer.

The phone next to me rang almost immediately.

“Sorry about that,” T explained. “I was screening my calls. J was just trying to get a hold of me.” I could hear the shudder in her voice from having to deal with one of our users.

“It’s OK. Listen, I have a couple of questions for you. I’m trying to set up a push of Access, and…” What she’d just said half-registered on my distracted and stressed-out brain. “J? Why was she trying to call you? Have you been working with her on something?” All the folk on the Help Desk have Caller ID on their desk phones.

“I don’t know! I talked to her month ago or so, and I thought she had saved my number and was calling me back about something.”

“That’s so weird. I was just up there.” I thought Apps had put in this ticket?

Oh. Oh, right. I got it. “Hey!” I said. “That wasn’t her calling you! That was me! I was calling you from her phone!”

T laughed. “Well, I didn’t know that! What do you want?”

I started to explain, about the inability to remove Access, and having to push it out, and hoping it wouldn’t break anything. I was frustrated from all the other troubles during the day, and from not knowing how to do this simple thing, and my stress must have shown in my voice, because T laughed at me.

“It’s so funny, sitting here on the other side, hearing you panic. It’s usually the other way around!” She was obviously enjoying this. “You’re usually the calm one.”

“See? Everyone’s been pushed so hard, with layoffs and the changes and all the new technology,” I said. “This! This is how you can tell! When I am the one freaking out!”

The sad part is, I don’t even know if I fixed J’s problem or not. I had to move on to the next ticket…

Just in case I forget to post something next Monday, I also used the new word “communicationiness” in a sentence today.

I was describing what my boss is failing to provide, if you need to know.

Tracy loves it when I make up new words.

Today, during a discussion of how bad Jessica Simpson looks lately, I suggested that maybe she’s had her jaw enlargened.

Except, I actually thought that was a word. It’s not.

Welcome to New Word Monday.

My apologies. My thoughts lately have been… wordless and un-worded. Certainly they are un-wordable.

Or… y’know… something.

I did something really simple tonight. I haven’t done it in a long time. It felt good to do it.

I cooked dinner.

Oh, sure, lately I’ve been eating more meals at home. But throwing a frozen burrito in the microwave hardly counts as cooking.

See… I bought a wok last weekend. A 12″, carbon steel, flat-bottomed, single-handled, wok. It was cheap, I guess ($19.99), but after doing some reading on buying a wok, it turns out that carbon steel beats so many other materials for the perfect wok. Yes, my wok is similar to something used by billions of other people on this planet, but as the Marines say about their guns – this wok is mine. There are many others like her, but this one is mine.

Yes – her. I’ve named her. I call my wok “Fairuza”. Fairuza B. Wok.

This weekend I spent about an hour cleaning and seasoning her. I used canola oil because it’s light and low-calorie (comparatively), even though if I’d been a traditionalist, I would have used peanut oil or sesame oil.

Cleaning was fun. The manufacturers ship it coated in oil to prevent rust, but you don’t want to cook with that coating on it. I filled her about half full of water, brought it to a boil for about 10 minutes, and then scrubbed her down in hot soapy water.

After I wiped her dry, I started the seasoning. Again, heat applied while there was a small (about two tablespoons) of oil in it. I rotated and tilted the wok to make sure the sides were coated in the hot oil, and let it burn a bit, putting a nice dark black/brown coating on the bottom and up on the sides.

Woks are fun because to get the best performance out of them, they have to be used, and to look used, almost from the beginning.

Tonight, I started by putting 2 cups of brown rice and 3 1/3 cups of water into the rice cooker and let it do its job. The rice cooker cooked and then clicked into “Warm” mode while I prepared and cooked the main dish.

For the main dish, I had some sirloin, cut into strips; some mixed vegetables (frozen and bought in a package specifically for stir-frying; I wasn’t being too experimental), some hot and spicy sauce, and the oil, of course. I first heated up the wok, on high heat on my burner, without any oil added, for about 10 minutes. When it was good and hot (I dropped a little water in it, and it beaded up immediately) I added the oil. It sizzled and sputtered and smoked a little. Perfect. I dropped in the beef, and it sizzled and sputtered, too. Let it sit for a minute or two (to brown), then poked and stirred it around (it’s not stir-frying if you don’t stir) for about 3-4 minutes, and then flipped all the pieces over.

At this point I added the vegetables. I first pushed all the meat up towards the sides, clearing a space in the middle. Then I lowered the heat a little bit, and dropped in the veggies, still frozen. Poked them around a bit but mostly let it sit. I noticed the rice was done; great! It would be ready when I actually wanted to eat.

I wished I had some garlic; I love things spicy. No garlic, but I dug around in the cupboard and found some of those really hot, small, thin red peppers. I tossed in a couple on top of the veggies and then stirred them in.

When the vegetables were getting done, I mixed everything together, meat and vegetables, and the nice sauce that was forming from the water, oil and juices from the beef. Once again I cleared out a space in the middle and poured in some hot and spicy sauce, stirring it into the juices and then making sure the meat and vegetables got covered in it.

And that was it. Almost takes longer to write it all out than it did to do. Almost. I tossed about a cup of my cooked rice into a bowl, then dished out some of the stir-fry into it, and had a hot, quick, healthy meal. I figured it’s about 550 calories per serving.

And cleaning the wok is easy. I just run some hot water, and scour out the food and the top layer of grease, and then dry it off and put it away. I don’t want to use soap or detergent because it will get rid of the seasoning.

I have lots of leftovers. I’ll be eating steak and vegetables and rice for a while… but next time I’ll be able to reduce the ingredients to make just enough for one or two servings.

Because it was so fun, I want to wok again soon. Does that seem crazy?

The phone rang around 10 ’til 8 PM, Saturday evening. When I ran into the living room and looked, my 14-year-old nephew’s face and name were on the tiny cell phone screen.

I picked up. “Hello, Max!”

“Hello, uncle.” He paused.

“What’s up?”

“How would you like to go see a movie with me and some of my friends?” I could hear the combination of a smile and pleading in his voice.

“Uh…”

“We want to see ‘Jackass 2’. Except the movie theater is being stupid.”

“Oh, I’ll bet that’s really funny!” I said, but hesitantly. I see. They need an adult to get in to see it.

“Yeah!”

“…but I’m just getting ready to go out for the evening.” I weighed in my mind a night out drinking vs. seeing a movie about crazy stunts and voilence with some teenage boys and surprised myself with how close the two seemed in entertainment value.

“You are?”

“Yeah, I’m meeting a friend.”

“Oh.” He seemed disappointed, but brightened as he added, “Would your friend want to see ‘Jackass 2’, too?”

I laughed. He was persistent. “Yeah. She… probably… wouldn’t. Sorry.” I thought a moment. “If you’d called me earlier, maybe.”

“We didn’t know until we got to the movie theater. We have someone who’s 18, but the theater said we had to have someone over 21. Mom said you might want to see it, too and suggested I call.”

“And your mom does not want to see ‘Jackass 2’. Got it.”

“…yeah.”

“Well, sorry.” I really was sorry, and felt a little bad, but… last-minute calls and all that. “Good luck!”

As I hung up, I remembered another nephew, years and years ago, and all the things I was able to get him into when he was underage. I hope the statute of limitations has expired by now, but I’ll admit to getting him into bars and movies he “shouldn’t” have been able to see.

I remember taking him to see “Blade Runner” on the opening weekend, waiting in line for what seemed like forever, and when we got to the ticket counter, the guy would not sell us a ticket for my nephew. In summer 1982, I was 17 and probably looked a little older (I was short, but hairy and probably wore a beard at the time; I don’t remember now). My nephew was taller than me, though, and I thought he looked at least as old as I was, even though he was (exactly) 6 years younger. “Blade Runner” was rated “R” – under 17 not admitted without a parent or guardian. I argued a bit. I’m his uncle, I told him, which was true but looked unlikely. I finally gave in and bought two tickets to see “E.T.” (rated “PG”), which was playing at the same time.

I stalked off, dragging my nephew behind me, and we found two seats. My nephew, who had been silent the entire time, turned to me and said, “Are we really going to see ‘E.T.’?”

“No.” I decided at that moment, but the way I said it made it seem like I had decided long ago. I really didn’t want to see Spielberg’s movie, though, and had my heart set on seeing Harrison Ford chase some androids. I’d been reading about this movie in “Starlog” magazine all spring and summer. It looked dark and moody, not sappy and funny like Spielberg’s flick.

“Give it a minute,” I said, checking my watch to see how long until the movie started. We waited a minute or two, then I got up. “Follow me, and act like you know what you’re doing.”

We headed out for the bathrooms, then instead of returning to the “E.T.” theater we walked straight into the one showing “Blade Runner.”

I’m still surprised at how easy it was. It was the first of many times I’d cheated the movie ratings system. And it was the first time (at least that I remember) including my nephew in my adventures.

And now, with this call from Max… it seems that I still can provide that kind of service. Although it’s a bit more problematic these days. I don’t have a jam-packed social calendar, but the few events I do have I like to enjoy… And wasn’t it just a few weeks ago that I was the “guardian” who got both of us in to see “Snakes On A Plane”? I didn’t even think that you needed an adult to get in to see that until the guy who tore the ticket gave you an odd look, then looked at me standing behind you. “Oh, right, I’m with him,” I said.

So, sorry, Max, about Saturday night, if you’re reading this. I need a little more notice, but I’ll be happy to help you out in the future…

It’s not like I haven’t done that before.

I am the anti-drug for strippers.

Go figure.

Effin’ Blogger ate my wonderful post from this morning.

I’ll re-create it but it had so much improvisational energy that the second draft is not going to capture, dammit.

And that whole “Recover post” thing? No work-y this time.

The great thing about technical problems is that there is always a technical solution. Unlike, say, human problems.