White Lightning Axiom: Redux: Support Duty

Thursday, October 25, 2007


Support Duty

The word for this week is bravado. Yes: for the customer who INSISTED that the problem was not with their network, but rather, our software. In the end, finding that their network WAS the issue, had the bravado to blame us for not finding THEIR problem sooner. For the Network guy who had the bravado to say that they have so much more training and experience in the field so our conclusion must be wrong since we are not network engineers. And to the 'Customer Advocate' who insisted we work through the night ... twice ... since we needed to identify and fix our problem for the customer who was uncooperative and abrasive. And for my boss, who told them to back off and let us get some rest. That last one was incredibly brave in the face of increasingly stentorian clamors for a solution we could not provide. In the end, when definitive proof was given that our software was working and their network was hosing up the works, the recidivist behavior of the customer almost broke my back. I'm eagerly anticipating the postmortem of the case on Monday. Since it is work, I can say nothing more.

Around all this work nonsense, there were a few moments where I spent time with my family. Such as Monday at Noon when the Day-Care professionals called me to let me know my Lovely Daughter had thrown up ... twice ... at lunch and I need to come get here ASAP. Of course, moments later I was paged back to work and had to bring in an ill youngling till the Mrs could stop by and pick her up. Well, that was a whole giant pile of fun, mind you. Nothing like having to juggle a cantankerous customer and a brittle child at the same time. Alexis got her mothers digestive system: "Made entirely of lace and tissue paper". I was AWOL for the next couple of days and what sleep I did get (45 min on Monday, 4 on Tuesday) was riddled with twisted and disturbing dreams. The stress backed up a bit and wreaked havoc with the REM cycle. So much over flow that it invaded Attila's dream in some sort of twisted Jungian Common Unconscious. She tumbled into our bed on Thursday morning wailing of bad dreams where she could not find Grandpa or anyone else. Her worst fear is being alone. I think she gets that from me ... I'm a fairly social animal. She is EXTREMELY interested in being attended to and prefers the comfort of what she knows over the expeditions into the dark regions of the undiscovered. My, she is an old fart at the ripe old age of 5.

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