The Missing Data Conundrum

It's nearly quarter to two in the afternoon. It's been a busy day, but a productive one. A project I have been working on for almost four months has finally come to fruition. After months of working with a software developer, I finally have a working upgrade package for one of our vital systems. The code has been patched, the bugs eradicated and the end is in sight.

I had been given this project for the simple reason that I had heard the name of it sometime in the past. I had no idea what it was, what it did, who used it or why. I had been thrown in the deep end of the data pool. The current version we had was three years out of date, and the new version refused to work in our environment. It was my job to fix it!

To cut a very long and boring story very short. The software developer built us a new package and all was right in the universe. However, one part of it still refused to work, so on this particular Thursday, he had stripped it down once again and finally found the problem. Satisfied with a job well done, I thanked him, put the patched file in a safe place and sat back in my chair, giving myself a silent congratulations.

Then...

The Empty Mailbox

It's the umpteenth attempt at calling her; I have been trying to get in touch with a user for over a fortnight after a fault was passed on to me from our helpdesk:

"A huge chunk of my emails are missing". It had claimed in big bold capital letters; providing lots of useful information to go on as usual.

The problem is urgent, and absolutely must be fixed immediately (apparently). As urgent as is may be, all attempts to contact the person who reported the fault have been in vain.

I hang up the phone again after the about the twelfth ring, and with everlasting regret, I send the user another email explaining that I was looking into their fault, and needed to speak with them about it. Finally a few hours later I get the returning phone call:

I can't log on and other sign language

"Can't log on." A woman says quietly as she balances the door on the end of her shoe and leans into the room waving her ID at us.

I try to ignore her bobbing about as she tries to hold the door open with her foot and pass her ID to me at the same time. She wobbles slightly, realises that the door can support itself and gives it up. She steps into the room and looks at me expectantly as the door slams.

I check her account out and all seems ok, I reset the password for good measure. I tell her what I have changed it to and that she can setup a new password when she logs in.

Arrrrghhh, My Ears!

The worst type of caller is when someone rings with a simple request, and they have to complicate it, make a drama out of it. They have to complain about everything, tell you their life's woes and make out they are hard done by.

Generally I usually ignore the rants and carry on. But it makes me wonder what I have done to deserve the onslaught.

The phone rings late one morning and I answer.

"IT Support" I say, ready to be helpful.

Little Miss Know It All

Knock Knock!

A woman walked into our office one afternoon with a laptop bag in her hand. She had a smile on her face and seemed friendly enough.

"I have come for my new loan." She exclaimed excitedly, assuming we were psychic. You know what they say about assumption being the mother of all.... Enough said!

It's amazing how many people walk into our office like that, making announcements and believing we automatically know all the details of what they are talking about.