An Open Letter to an Incompetent ITS Man

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Talwyn Aureliano
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An Open Letter to an Incompetent ITS Man

Post by Talwyn Aureliano »

- this is rather amusing -

:devil:

[img:3kmwwhfj]http://www.the-iss.com/2009/04/06/burning-computer.jpg[/img:3kmwwhfj]



Dear Incompetent ITS Man,

Hi. Remember me? I'm the girl with the laptop that you broke with your faulty software.



Oh, I have some things to say to you, Incompetent ITS Man.

Last week, your department sent out an email detailing numerous problems that the wireless network has undergone over the past month or so, and you described that these problems were due to certain computers and routers that were infected with viruses plugging into the network, sending you into a burning tailspin that left everyone else on the network running diagnostic after diagnostic to see why the internet was hiccupping.

It happens. Some people are assholes and send viruses to large organizations, and some people are too lazy to ever run any sort of antivirus software or maintenance utility on their own machine. I understand. These things are out of your control.

At the end of the email, you included a link to a specific page on the ITS website where you provided anti-virus and SFTP software for both Windows-based machines and Mac computers completely free of charge. That was nice. While you worded the email in a non-threatening way and urged us to "make sure all computers connected to the network have updated protection software," you also added that all computers would be scanned and, if necessary, quarantined.

See, that was not so nice. In today's tech-savvy world, you cannot go for an extended period of time with your computer in quarantine while ITS examine your every file to ensure the machine's virus-free status. The email gave the clear (and what I'm sure was very intentional) impression that if we did not download the specific software you so thoughtfully provided for us, you would take our computers away. Having become unaccustomed to my toys being taken away for bad behavior (as I am no longer three years old), I grudgingly downloaded and installed said software.

The instant--the very instant--that your software finished installing on my computer, everything froze. It was as though my cursor was making its laborious way through mud rather than flitting across my screen with its usual reckless abandon. Every program moved with the sluggish, aching ineptitude of a 97-year-old arthritic with one of those walkers that has those stupid cut up tennis balls on the bottom. My web browser... oh, my web browser. Never have I seen an instrument of the internet express such despairing pain and suffering as did my web browser on that fateful Wednesday afternoon. I wasn't aware that a program could actually feel agony, but it did. Every file, every program, every pixel was screaming out in silent, unyielding torment as I ran diagnostic after diagnostic, but to no avail.

I booted up from the second part of my partitioned hard drive to defrag and verify both disk and disk permissions. I cleared caches, optimized the system, reset parameters, and stared at the same sad screen for literally hours, rebooting until my fingertips numbed and the laptop actually cried out, "For the love of GOD, Montressor!" (That may have been a hallucination, as I was reading Edgar Allan Poe and drinking myself into a blissful, technology-free oblivion at that point.)

Two days later, I call your office. By this time I had resolved to scan my computer with anti-virus software that I know is legitimate and secure (because I found it myself), back up every single file onto several CDs, and wipe my hard drive clean to start afresh. I merely wanted to share my woes with you, Incompetent ITS Man, so that you could remove your faulty Satan-spawned software from the site and prevent the forthcoming rage of other, less poised network users than myself.

I was looking out for the well being of others. Not because other human beings mean anything to me, mind you, but because I simply did not want to be delayed should I require the use of another machine hooked up to the network because somehow my own machine was indisposed.

When I called, you were on the phone with someone else, so I left a message and received a prompt call back. You earned points for this, Incompetent ITS Man. When we finally spoke, however, you listened to my tale and dismissed it. "It can't be our software," you stated, arrogance sifting through the telephone to cause a slight twitch in the nerve endings beside my right eye. "Everyone on the network uses this software."

"That may be the case," I replied, resolving to remain calm and dignified despite my now twitching eye, "but I didn't have a single problem with this computer until I downloaded and installed this software, and the problems literally began as soon as the software was installed." There, I thought, that was civil. We can end this without bloodshed.

How naive I was.

Do you remember your responses to me in the face of every single thing I said to you, Incompetent ITS Man? If not, you can refer to the quoted phrase two paragraphs up, select the text, hit command-C, and then command-V about seventy-two times, with the occasional, "I'm not denying that you have a problem" and "I'm sure there's something else wrong with your computer" thrown in here and there for variety. Unfortunately, like a couple of fresh grapes thrown into a compost heap, there just wasn't enough good in that conversation to make it even slightly palatable. Not even a little bit.

No, Incompetent ITS Man, there is nothing else wrong with my computer. My download and subsequent installation of your software caused the worst problems I have ever seen on a laptop before in my life, and I was forced erase my hard disk and reinstall the operating system.

I had to start over.

Do you like having to start over, Incompetent ITS Man?

Would you like to try it?

Because if you would, I could arrange that for you. I could make you start everything over, from your pathetic excuse of a job that requires even less ability to complete a task successfully than the meteorologist on the local evening news, to your horrifically mundane and joyless life.

I am not computer-illiterate, Incompetent ITS Man.

Do you know how powerful the internet is? Do you know how dangerous the information gathered about someone on the internet can be when combined with the vast number of professional contacts in the criminal underworld that are so readily available to a supervillain, particularly one who is a member of the goddamned International Society of Supervillains?

Do you have any idea how vindictive I am?

I hope you sleep well tonight, Incompetent ITS Man. I hope you, as the expression goes, "sleep like a baby," because it is very likely that you will wake up tomorrow morning just like a baby.

That is to say, completely without possessions, no credit to speak of, no job, no home, no vehicle, and the inability to speak or control your bowels.

Have a nice night, Incompetent ITS Man. I'll leave a business card with my extension on it. Feel free to call the ISS HQ if you have any complaints or questions. I may be on the phone with someone else, but I promise to return your call promptly.

Oh, that's right, you won't be able to speak.

Still, have a nice night.


Cruelest regards,

Lady Unpleasantries
In War: Resolution. In Defeat: Defiance. In Victory: Magnanimity. In Peace: Goodwill.

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Xaraphim
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Post by Xaraphim »

. . .

I...

I think I'm in love...
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