Date testimonials?

Discounted BoyHad the weirdest Facebook notification ever today, some application told me that I should add a Date Testimonial. Is that even possible to do?

Don’t get me wrong, I have had some nice comments made about me in the past, but asking for a testimonial..isn’t that taking it a bit far?  Especially as a testimonial is normally written by someone that enjoyed the service you provided and are essentially displayed to help you get more people interested in taking said service…

Choosing a picnic location of the alley behind the Dog and Duck was unusual and surprisingly nice.  The Laughing Wolf has surprisingly dextrous hands and I couldn’t recommend him more.  Since using his services, I have recently been promoted to Burger Flipper, lost 20 pounds and have a healthy sheen to my hair.

Thanks – Tracey – Essex, UK

I suppose it could work….and could only help if I ever decide to become a gigolo.

The Laughing Wolf is amazing, the attention to detail and professional courteous service is second to none.  Highly recommended – Peter – Amsterdam, Netherlands

See!  Now I really think it could…..wait a minute…arse.

Mistaken identity and other strangeness

hospital wallSome years ago I was working in a hospital doing general network support.  It was actually a great place to work and had the distinction (at the time) of having a corridor that was almost 2 miles long.  That bit wasn’t quite so enjoyable as having to go from Pathology (furthest point along the corridor), to fix an issue in Maternity (furthest point in the other direction) was not my idea of a good time.  I had a few weird moments in this place, some technical and others not.

The boss had this amazing idea that, if people needed less than 10 network points, I would install them myself.  As you can imagine, this led to me being some sort of network point pimp and extolling the virtues of having (in some cases) 9 spare available because “You never know”.  When this failed it was left to me.

Now, anyone that knows me will tell you that I cannot perform basic DIY.  It is simply something I am not genetically made up for.  Shelves fall down, holes in plaster get miraculously bigger…I invariably hurt myself.  Yet here I was, embarking on a terrifying journey of drilling holes in hospital walls.  I remember having to put a new socket in the Pharmacy to replace an existing one where the cable was broken.  I exposed the cable run and started to trace the cable I needed to replace.  The idea being to tie the new cable to the old, and pull it through.  This reasonable theory hit a few snags, namely that the cable run went through walls into other rooms, corridors and even outside for a few meters.  It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realise that I made a mistake and disconnected the wrong cable…meaning I had to do it all again.  It’s just aswell there was someone there to help me..oh that’s right, I was on my own.

I had to get through a wall that was around 4ft thick in the Pathology department, but the biggest drillbit I had access to was just under 3ft long.  Confident and complete with tape measure, I was absolutely certain that I would be able to “Eurotunnel” it and meet up from either side.  In the end, and after turning this wall into swiss cheese, I tracked down some builders and stole their giant drillbit to do it.

I had to turn one of the Doctors on-call bedrooms into an office, which involved drilling down from the attic space.  Unfortunately the attic space wasn’t big enough for me to stand up in and my trusty tape measure didn’t appear to be so trusty, so I took to crawling along the corridor on my stomach to try and work out where to drill.  The Doctors knew that there would be some noise and drilling going on.  I am fairly confident that this particular, sleeping, Doctor didn’t anticipate being woken up to plaster falling onto his bed, a drill screaming through the ceiling followed swiftly by a large eye looking through the hole and apologising profusely.  I wouldn’t have been surprised to discover that Doctor sleeping in his car from there on in.

That said, learning from my mistakes at that point wasn’t so easy to me, and I managed to repeat this feat…only this time in the Maternity department….into a room where they were performing ultrasounds…I can’t be certain, as I was rapidly accelerating into the distance, but I may have caused a number of false alarms and possibly a premature birth or two that day.

It wasn’t all about me scaring the crap out of Doctors and patients alike, I had my fair share.   Like sitting at my desk quietly, running a stress test on the LAN with the development team….in the middle of the test, the rocket I had just fired at the head of the Duke Nukem across the courtyard stopped..in mid air, followed seconds later by “Network Connection Lost”.  Glancing up, I see the network monitor screen…and all of the lovely green symbols were turning a nasty looking red colour.  Half the network was down, I call the developers to see if it was them (they were losing after all) and start running down the corridor to the first place that had gone red.   As I am running, I can see that the ladder into the attic space is already down…getting closer still and I can hear drilling.  I hit the ladder and scramble up without stopping, until I see an electrician merrily drilling away.  I briefly consider asking him how he worked out where to drill so effortlessly, but shake that off and check the comms cabinet….which is unsurprisingly devoid of any flashing blinking light type doodahs.  A quick look behind the cabinet and you can see that it has been unplugged…and replaced by a beaten up, paint spattered cord of the workmans drill.  I beat him about the head ask him nicely to stop drilling and plug the cabinet back in.  Wordlessly I point to the rather large sign that instructs people not to remove the plastic cover and unplug the cabinet…before heading off to find the foreman, relieve myself in the toilet and have a large brandy to calm my nerves.

I remember trying to lift a server on my own…that was clearly too big/heavy for me, but noone else was around to help me…and hearing my knee pop.  I get on the phone and Andrew comes running down to me, pushing a wheelchair that I have always hoped was empty when he found it.  I remember, through the pain, feeling quite lucky that this had happened in a hospital, that had a ward dedicated to looking after people with leg/knee pain.  So you will forgive my shock when I was told I would have to make the journey across town to go to Accident and Emergency before they could see me.  Oh how I cursed their computer systems that day…certainly they wouldn’t be high on my list in the future……

I could go on and on…what do you mean I already have?  Ah well… Razz

When I first joined the support team there, they always sent the newbies on a rite of passage…the morgue.  I can still recall the smell of the place as I headed inside…where the morgue technicians tell me that the computer with the issue is in the main fridge room…they have, of course, left the doors open just for me.  I realise that this sounds a little disrespectful…but damn if I didn’t laugh my ass off….when I had finished throwing up of course.

Probably the most memorable, and terrifying thing though was when I was walking back to the office one quiet and peaceful afternoon.  One of the problems associated with being in IT within a hospital is what you wear.  Generally I wore black trousers, a white shirt…professional looking tie and of course a pager.  I had been mistaken for a Doctor on numerous occasions and was quite used to explaining that I wasn’t, and even running off to find them a Doctor from time to time.  One of those things you might say.  Until this day.  Walking back towards my office and a panic stricken woman bursts through the door of the chest/lung ward that was opposite our office.  She clocks me and without a word, starts dragging me into the ward…and practically throws me into a room where her husband (I assumed) was suffering some form of breathing attack.  As I finally start to realise what is going on, I try to explain that I am not a Doctor…but quite obviously this woman didn’t want me talking to her…I managed to focus enough to hit the panic button on the wall and within seconds Doctors and Nurses start piling in the room to help.

I stand back and watch these amazing people go about their business with this efficient calm about them.  A few minutes later and the husband is calmed, breathing more easily and the wife is clearly relieved.  I have the upmost respect for Doctors and Nurses…there is no way I could do what they do.

On top of all that, the wife came to find me later and thanked me for helping….She had forgotten the panic button was there and couldn’t focus to find anyone.  I didn’t know what to say, certainly I had done nothing worthy of thanks from this woman.  People are amazing though sometimes..here was a woman so clearly going through hell and she found the time to thank some poor scared cretin who managed to hit a button.  Also, it shows what having a little faith can do…her husband made a full recovery and left the hospital 6 weeks later.

I like people sometimes, I really do.

Electricity chafes…

I nominate these guys for this year…tis true. Years ago, I was working for a software house in Cheltenham.  During this time the company were undergoing some major changes, including shutting down an office in Surrey and moving operations to Cheltenham.  This meant getting 2 new buildings and setting them up from scratch.  During this time we had mucho fun getting everything ready, and very little sleep was had by myself and Matt.

I point this out as, at some point on the Sunday, Matt and I were checking all of the PCs and printers etc to make sure that everything could login and would work as expected.  The move had actually begun at 17:00 on the Friday and everyone was expecting to begin working as normal at 08:00 on the Monday morning.  Not a lot of time to move some 300 people and all of their equipment.  We managed it…barely.  Anyway, back to the checking of PCs… I think we got to the 3rd floor and went around as before switching everything on.  Matt notices that one of the PCs didn’t fire up…so as we are taking a break, he decides to whip the case off and take a look.  He didn’t take the usual precautions of unplugging the machine, grounding himself etc, but no matter…generally these things don’t pose an issue.

We are chatting away and pretty much trying to stay awake when he asks me for a screwdriver.  On hindsight, I should have questioned why, but as tired as I was I passed one to him.  There then followed this set of events:

Matt:  “Thanks, I think I see what’s wrong”
PC:  BANG
Matt: THUD
Matt: Slide
Matt: THUD
Matt:  “AAaaaaaaaargh”

He ended up about 10 feet away from where he started, with a hairstyle not dissimilar to Yahoo Serious of Young Enstein fame.  In a moment of genius clarity, he had noticed that the power supply fan was not spinning, decided to jab the screwdriver into it and wiggle around, hoping to dislodge whatever was causing the fan to stick.. Only he went too far, jabbed the screwdriver a little too deep into the gubbins of the PSU and gave himself something of a shock.  The shock sent his body hurtling backwards like something out of a film, the force of this caused him to smack his head into the desk that he was underneath, drag his hand through the gubbins of the PC and eventually smack his head into the wall 10 feet away.

After I stopped laughing, I checked to see if he was ok.  He was…although he had a lump on his head and his hand was bleeding like a good ‘un.  All that was really needed were a small flock of birds to circle around his head, throwing stars up in the air and for smoke to come off his head.

The PC started working though, so it just goes to show …mind you, his watch was never the same again.

This was the company that is essentially responsible for the Fester’esque black circles around my eyes.  Thanks to working an average (honestly) of 21 hours per day, 7 days a week for 9 weeks.  Part way through this, they tell me about the impending closure of the southern office and send me down there to arrive just as the meeting is called.

It was all very cloak and dagger, and not at all pleasant for me.  I had to wait outside and, when the meeting started..someone gave me the signal to get into the building, where I had 25 minutes to lock down and protect the data, admin accounts and even the comms rooms.  This was simply following due dilligance as instructed by the insurance company, but still…I felt like an arsehole.

It worked out ok in the end, but there were a lot of upset people there, not least of all the guys that reported in to me.

Heh, just remembered a trip back with the head of facilities.  We were driving back from Cirencester to Cheltenham in ridiculously thick fog.  It was one of those where you couldn’t see much past the front of the car, so we were driving appropriately slowly as the situation demanded.  Pete mentions that we have to be really alert, as there is a new roundabout around here somewhere..with that, a car goes flying past us and had to be travelling over the speed limit…2 seconds later we realise we are on the roundabout.  I forget the exact chain of events, but Pete points out of the car, up in the air…where we can see red lights…as we come around it is obvious that the red lights belong to the car that had gone past us a couple of seconds earlier…and is now about 30 feet in the air and falling to the ground after hitting a lamppost across the other side of the roundabout.

Pete, being the kindly soul he is…starts calling the guy all sorts of names as we wend our merry way at 5-10mph.  In fairness, we did check that the guy got out ok…but then left him to it.

I think he learned a valuable lesson right there….

The birds and the bees

Be Careful Now...It probably isn’t as prevelant as it once was, but in bygone days quite a lot of guys had to undergo a rite of passage…normally with their father.  There were a number of these rites…first beer, first live sporting event and so on.  None of these things though, could prepare you for “The Talk”.

Obviously these days, most kids/teens are more aware of STDs and how to put a condom on a banana than their parents are, mainly due to school lessons…but it wasn’t always the case.  I was unfortunately caught in that time when kids were becoming more aware, but parents weren’t.  A bit like when the government switched from O-Level to GCSE in schools…only somewhat more embarrassing.

Picture the scene; A 16 year old Laughing Wolf arrives home at sometime before noon…having been out the entire night at his girlfriends place.  Dad is in the kitchen as I grab something to eat and drink…small talk ensues.  Football is discussed, schoolwork is discussed, would I take my brothers with me on Sunday to blah blah.  I remember feeling a little confused…sure, Dad and I regularly nattered about little and nothing, but there seemed to be some sort of unspoken uneasiness.  I couldn’t quite place it, nor could I work out why Dad was refusing to make eye contact with me.

I took my food into the living room, sat down and put the TV on.  A few minutes went by and Dad came in, sat next to me and said “I think it is about time we had a talk son”.

I, of course, shit myself was curious as to what he wanted to discuss.  I racked my brain, searching for what indiscretion had transpired…that I could have been caught for.  Maybe he had noticed the missing Apple Korn bottle, found my stash of smokes at the bottom of the garden…that my tape deck had been broken for months and I had wired up a walkman to the stereo to hide it.

Dad turned the TV off and looked distinctly nervous.  He ummed and aahed for a few moments, and I remember thinking that I was in serious trouble…Dad is never lost for words you see, so his discomfort was instantly passed onto me and I didn’t know what to make of it.  He put his hand on my shoulder and started to say the almost timeless “Son, there comes a time in…” and was cut off.  At the moment he began to speak, Mum walked into the living room..sized up the situation, realised what was going on and said “I wouldn’t worry about it Gordon, I have just been putting his washing away and saw a load of condoms in his drawer”.

The realisation of what Dad wanted to talk to me about hit me…the relief in Dads face was visible.  He patted my shoulder and said “Good we had this talk son” and he was gone.  I couldn’t believe it…my Dad, for just a few seconds, was a walking talking cliché.  I put my uneaten food in the kitchen, and legged it outside for a smoke.

You see, I have never been to war…but I really felt like I dodged a bullet there.  That said, as I sit here now, I kind of wonder what he was going to say…after all, it could come in handy in the future.

Did any of you dodge this bullet, or were you forced to endure the torture that is “The Talk”?