BOFH: Printer's festive bips herald a merry mystery for the Boss's budget
Merry as in see you down the pub
"It's just the Director and myself," the Boss burbles. "Oh, and the HR and Finance Directors, because they wanted a lunch with us, so we thought we'd kill two birds with one stone."
... or two sysadmins with one inexpensive curry ...
"What day is that?" I ask.
"Monday."
"Oh," I say sadly, "Monday we're running through the DR testing procedures – you know, running the generators on load, testing the bypass switches on each of the UPS units, then load testing the UPS units themselves. It takes most of the day."
"What about Tuesday?"
"Christmas Eve, we're taking snapshots of all the system images, delivering them to offsite storage and then retrieving the oldest set of images from offsite storage and erasing them," I lie – because neither the PFY nor myself plan on coming in at all next week.
"Aren't we having a departmental lunch today?" the PFY asks.
The Boss isn't popular in the department – after adopting an insane suggestion to use AI to send a personal email to each of the IT staff by using the personal information stored in the HR database. Totally insane. I have no idea why the PFY made it in the first place.
It turned out that the personal information in the HR database has very dated information about partners, next of kin, and so on – many of whom are no longer with us. Or them. What the HR database DID have up to date information on, though, was outstanding personal grievances, performance issues, and reasons why people weren't recommended for pay increases.
Needless to say, the personal email messages made for interesting reading. No doubt the Boss's HR file has filled up dramatically in the past day.
Meantime, he's trying to win back favor with the office with a team lunch. But with no drinking. And everyone then going back to their office and working until 5. The PFY and I pointed out that cheap sandwiches and a glass of dilute cordial was a step in the wrong direction, but the Boss was not to be dissuaded. However, in the past few hours, I think he's sensing the Doppler effect of impending anger, and wants to head that off with a couple of human sacrifices (the PFY and myself) on whom he can blame everything.
Our offer to improve morale with the annual game of "Murder in the dark" has been rejected – even when I said the PFY would be on lights this year.
Speaking of annual games, the Boss has been informed about our (alleged) history of funding Xmas drinks at the expense of the company and has moved his work credit card from his poorly protected wallet onto a lanyard around his neck, where its absence would be noted in an instant.
"I could check my calendar to see if I have some free time?" I suggest, heading back to Mission Control.
...
"Mind the printer," I warn the Boss as we squeeze through the space left in the corridor by an ancient printer almost completely blocking the hallway.
>bip<
"Let's see," I say, bringing up my calendar. "What about 2 this afternoon? I could manage PM?"
"PM should be fine," the Boss says, leaving the office quite pleased with himself.
>bip<
"Oh!" I call out moments later when he's all but out of the corridor "I forgot, we've got a Teams meeting about next year's budget at 2."
"What about 2:15?" the Boss asks.
"I dunno, I'd have to check my diary."
The Boss trundles back up the corridor, squeezing past the ancient printer once more.
>bip<
"2:15's fine," I say moments later, at which the Boss nods and heads back out of the office.
>bip<
... five minutes later ...
>bip<
I look up to see the Boss entering the office.
"Is there something wrong with the internet?" he asks.
"Hmmmmm," I say, turning his network port back on again. "Not that I can see. Are your cables plugged in properly?"
>bip<
... five minutes later he's back ...
>bip<
"Why's the printer beeping?" he asks.
- BOFH: Don't sell The Boss a firewall. Sell him The Dream
- BOFH: The devil's in the contract details
- BOFH: Don't threaten us with a good time – ensure it
- BOFH: The Boss pulled the plug on our AI, so we pulled the pin on him
"A battery failure error. A guy's coming to collect it next week."
"Right. I... just saw you cancelled the budget Teams meeting and then moved our meeting till 4?" he says.
"Oh yeah."
"But earlier you said you were going home at 4?"
"Ah yes, my mistake. Wouldn't want to miss that. Shall we make it at 2 then?"
"Yes, that will be fine."
"OK, I'll just check my diary."
"There's nothing in your diary. You deleted the Teams meeting."
"Oh right. PM it is then."
"OK."
>bip<
I make a meeting, but for PM. Greenland time, i.e. 15 minutes ago.
>bip<
"You made the meeting for midday!" the Boss says.
"Oh, you know what, I think I had my time zone set to Greenland," I lie. "There, fixed."
"Why would you set your t-" the Boss asks, before realizing that this is time he'll never get back.
>bip<
When he's gone, I switch his network port off again.
... a couple of >bips< later ...
By my calculation, the Boss has now made 12 contactless payments of 100 quid to the pub across the road via the reader in our wall, so I move our meeting time zone to Karachi in an attempt to round it to an even 1,500 quid, before getting the PFY to report the Boss's transgressions to the heads of HR and beancounting.
Shortly after that, I get an email from them saying that the PFY and I will not be required at the meeting after all.
I set building time to PM and turn our core router off, but some staff have anticipated this event and beaten the PFY and myself there. Quite a lot of staff, as it happens.
I message the Boss and tell him that a courier dropped a present off for him on my desk – just for a couple more >bips<.