The Chronicles of George, Page Seven

Bet he doesn't even know what telnet is.

First of all, there is no room in our entire building numbered "170". Under our building's numbering scheme, it isn't even a valid room number. Secondly, it's Oracle JInitiator, not j inacitor. Thirdly...oh, to hell with it. Pass the Jack.

This gets a bit muddled with the obfuscating, but it's asking for a pair of employees to have access to Notes at the location they're temporarily occupying. Said location is without a computer. George knew this. Kill me.

I'll change her name to "Clueless Luser" and George's to "Bane of my Existence." Then, she'll be able to get her e-mails and everyone will be happy.

Did you ask her to try perhaps not listening to music and doing some work? Or are you too busy listening to music yourself?

Damn it, another one. I need more Tagamet.

Well of COURSE she's going to say yes! That's what lusers do!

Gaaack! A vampire!

No mention, of course, as to which temps, in what department, or which Excel sheets. I've come to expect such treatment.

I'm not certain which is worse—not being in the ACL, or being as dumb as George. I'm leaning a bit toward the latter.

Behold George, the paragon of laziness.

Here's what I hear, in my head, when I read this ticket:

"Tech support."

"AAAAA!!! THE FAX MACHINE! IT'S GETTING CLOSER!!"

"Pardon?"

"THE FAX MACHINE! OH MY GOD! AAAAA—" <unidentifiable awful noise> <click>

No mention, of course, of what kind of problems, nor any troubleshooting steps George might have taken to resolve them. That would be too much to hope for.

Yeah, it does that.

Why? Is she going to build her own version?

No wonder this luser wanted it cancelled—I certainly wouldn't have wanted to attend.

By now I've given up on hoping that George might suggest the luser apply power to the printer on their own. However, I have begun to think up elaborate mechanisms for carrying out my own death.

It's like George doesn't even work here. I'd get more done if I were answering the damn phone myself, perhaps with a British accent, to better charm my customers.

First of all, Notes times out on attachments WAAAY before five minutes have passed. Second of all...oh, sweet oblivion, I welcome your cold touch. I pray death will soon take me.

And I'm recieving anerror that states i am no longer able to avoid beating you with a sledgehammer.

Every time she open? Is this a porno?

And what is wrong with me, that a porn reference is the first thing that comes to mind when I read that ticket?

Here, George performs some troubleshooting. And, miracle of miracles, his troubleshooting is moderately relevant. Unfortunately, his grammar is still on the level of a dying gorilla who has been taught sign language and is trying frantically to communicate to her handlers that she has just swallowed a seizure-inducing poison.

Yeah, replacing assets is the first thing I do when trouble strikes. Troubleshooting takes too much time and doesn't cost the company enough money.

Like, with a drain rooter?

Well, at least he tried something.

A bad situation in which to be, especially since I don't have Notes admin abilities. George knows this. I get the ticket anyway.

No reasons, no errors, no troubleshooting. Typical. I'm OK, though, because I still have some Tagamet left.

At least he's trying to write down the error messages.