The Boston Diaries

The ongoing saga of a programmer who doesn't live in Boston, nor does he even like Boston, but yet named his weblog/journal “The Boston Diaries.”

Go figure.

Wednesday, November 10, 2004

The Office

It was the most depressing cubicle I've even been assigned to (sorry C, but it is depressing). The last cubicle I had wasn't nearly so depressing (actually, cubicles, as I was moved about five times in a single year).

But not that was my last job though. At my last job, I didn't even have the indignity of a cube; nope, I had to share a desk with another cow-orker (much like Sam Lowry did in Brazil)—then again, the last job was at Negiyo, which I suspect was where it was filmed).

To make matters worse, I have to deal with the phone.

This is not good.

I was banned from talking to customers at two ISPs and a webhosting company (the department I worked at in Negiyo never talked directly to customers so that was never an issue there). I wasn't banned because I was mean to customers, or excessively used the phones for personal use. No, I was banned because I was too truthful to the customer.

“I'm sorry,” I would say. “But I just don't know how to configure Novel's SMTP server to talk to our server.” Or “Windows? That's that … thing … from Washington, right?” Or even “Yup, the President of the company attempted to add an external SCSI drive to the system live.” And then my boss would scurry up yelling “Never tell the customer you don't know!” Or “Are you insane? You don't tell the customer I screwed up!”

And I would end up being banned from talking to customers.

Which really isn't a bad thing really.

But C knows all this. Yet here I am, expected to deal with the phone.


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