Friday, 14 January 2011
Not Beaten (not even whisked lightly until I form soft peaks...)
This week I rediscovered a hitherto uncelebrated character trait. I persevere. Which is not the same as saying “I plod” (…you plod, we plod, we are plodding…) no, I mean more that I don’t like to give up. I will try and try until I quite literally run out of steam and accept I have no alternative but to concede defeat. And that doesn’t happen very often.
In fact I can’t remember the last time I threw in the towel, unless you count the last time I dumped someone – for his own good, of course, he was always going to be far better off without me – his humourless, suffocating nature and bad dental hygiene had nothing to do with my decision – honest. (Perseverance has its limitations, obviously).
This week I refused to be beaten by the Gods of Technology. I mean, if something’s plugged in, has lights flickering and is making some kind of discernable noise, even if it IS tinny and whirry, then – call me Columbo – but this tells me the thing is ALIVE. Or, working at least.
Two people had a go and gave up, having tried everything they could think of as a solution to this particular technological conundrum… the scanner attached to my pc at work wasn’t playing ball… and so the thing was snorted at and the two men (MEN… underlined! – and one of these was the Head of ICT! I know, right? I can’t tell you who the other one was because it’s probably in my contract under Any Other Duties to have to shoot myself) walked away muttering incoherently about having to get somebody in to cover for a lesson so that he could go home and use his own machine there.
Now I don’t know what dumfounded looks like, but I kid you not, I actually had to sit down with my mouth open at the lack of gumption I’d just borne witness to as they slunk away muttering. For nearly 40 minutes, I’d watched them pressing buttons, scratching their chins – thank God, luckily ONLY their chins - clicking ‘back’ a million and one times, murmuring technical nonsensicals under their breath and then throwing in their towel of choice (probably Primark-peach, definitely not pure white Egyptian shag).
And I didn’t like it.
Not one little bit.
The fact they’d given up, I mean.
So I sat and played about a bit myself. Okay, so I didn’t have the discomfort of somebody holding an important document behind me and waiting for me to breathe electronic life into it; I did have time to reflect, ponder, click some erstwhile unused icons and work out, laterally what the problem could possibly be.
And so I did. In ten further minutes or so.
And I’m not meaning to blow my own trumpet, but *TOOT-TOOTY-PEEP-PEEP!*
But if a bloke had accomplished this (certainly our last IT Technician) he would have said something like: “The infrastructure of the hardwiring flombat had incrapsumently disconfigured the mainframe grapulementure, I don’t know why I didn’t spot it before”.
When I was being patted on the back and congratulated on my admirable attitude and perseverance, and asked how I’d worked it out, I just said “Oh, I clicked some other buttons.”
Bah. And I wonder why I’m not sitting at Bill Gates’ right hand!