Back in the Dark Ages, around 1993, I worked for a medical transcription firm as their SysAdmin. We were doing some cutting-edge IT stuff in getting transcriptions printed at the hospitals remotely and using print queues with the modem number hardcoded in, and the system would look for queues with anything in them and dial the number if it found something in that queue. It worked really well… until it didn’t.

I was the only SysAdmin in this city, so I was on call twenty-four-seven, 365 days a year. I was averaging three hours of sleep per night when I could go home, and I tried to catch little catnaps here and there when I could. Any time something would go wrong on the hospital side, I would have to go to the hospital and fix it.

A few months after I started, two of the vice presidents from corporate relocated to my city since we were the most productive city with the highest profits. The first thing they did was come up with an excuse to fire the current director, and then they took over operations themselves. Then, my job went from taking care of our systems to taking care of the doctors’ computers, too. I did what I could, but I was also sending out resumes.

Then, I was told to go to a hospital and see why the printing had stopped. I remember this day. I hadn’t been home for two days and had been going nonstop for eighteen hours. I got there and someone had unplugged the modem. I plugged it back in, a call came in, and jobs started printing. This doctor walked over to talk to me.

Doctor: “[Vice President #1] told me that you’d go out to my house and work on my home computer.”

Me: *Politely* “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. I’m heading home to get some sleep.”

Then, I headed back to the office to pick up a few things before heading home.

As soon as I walked through the door, I was escorted straight to the vice presidents’ office. Both vice presidents and the office manager were there. They proceed to start chewing me out. I just started laughing at them. I was the only person in 1,000 miles who knew anything about this system. They lost their temper and told me I was fired and was to leave immediately. I really said, “Thank you.” Then, I left.

On the way home, I stopped at a mom-and-pop computer store where I knew some of the people to drop off a resume.

Manager: “We have no openings right now, but we’ll call you when we do!”

I talked to a couple of friends while I was there and then headed home. The only thing I was worried about was telling my girlfriend that I had gotten fired. I walked through the door, and she was at work. I saw the answering machine blinking, so I hit play.

Voicemail: “Hi, this is [Manager] from [Mom-And-Pop Computer Store]. Our primary Novell Engineer just quit. Are you still available?”

I called them back and let them know I’d be there the next day. That began a much more peaceful career with better pay, rotating on-call, and almost every weekend and holiday off.

The medical transcription firm imploded. The vice presidents were fired. They floundered for about a year and were bought up by a competing firm.

I flew from America to Canada with a box of insulin that had to stay cold. I looked online and saw that I could take a cold pack and tell them at the checkpoint that I had medication that had to stay cold.

I went through the pre-check line and met the first agent.

Me: “Hi there. This bag has some insulin and a cold pack. Should I take it out?”

Agent #1: “No, you’re pre-check; just go through.”

[Agent #2] asked me whether I had anything on the list of items that cannot fly.

Me: “No, but I have insulin and a cold pack.”

Agent #2: “Solid ice?”

Me: “It’s a… one of those blue cooler blocks?”

Agent #2: *Sigh* “Remove it. We’ll take a look.”

Me: “Okay.”

I took the cold pack and insulin out of the bag. Everything went through the scanner. I waited. And waited. And waited. Three agents looked at the scanner and then back at me. I smiled politely because I didn’t really know what else to do.

Agent #3: “Miss, is this your item?”

Me: “Yes. I told—”

Agent #3: “Step aside. I need to search your bags.”

Me: “Okay.”

I waited while this man sifted through my clothing, holding my medication up to a light and nearly emptying my backpack. Finally, he turned to the cold pack with the insulin.

Agent #3: “Is there anything dangerous, such as knives or needles, in here?”

I looked at the clear bag.

Me: “No just insulin and the cold pack.”

He turned it over in his hand, glancing up at me occasionally. Finally, he handed everything back to me.

Agent #3: “In the future, please tell the first agent that you have these items.”

Me: “I did. He said it was fine.”

The agent glared at me and waved me off. As I walked away, I wondered why he asked if there was anything dangerous in the clear bag but had no problem blindly rooting through my clothing like a truffle hog.

While I was working for [Very Big Organization], before word processors were common, a high-level superior called me.

Superior: “We are thinking about starting a new [Technician Type]. In addition to your other duties, why don’t you write up the requirements for such a technician?”

Me: “Okay.”

I completed the detailed paperwork, which was eventually accepted at a very high level in [Organization].

Superior: “You did such a good job on that requirements document that we are sending you to [Other State] to write the actual training material and set up a training course.”

Me: “Okay.”

I went to the state where tech training documents were authored. I worked with a manual typewriter, in an area with a lot of other technical writers, not too far from the typist pool, and was “supervised” by an overseer who supposedly supervised the authors and typists.

The original requirements document acted as a preliminary outline for the eventual tech course, which had several student manuals. I was to author all the manuals. [Overseer] received all final drafts and doled them out to the typists, but he kept no log of his supposed work.

Overseer: “This manual does not seem to match the requirements. You need to redo it all.”

Me: “I am sure it matches; after all, I am the subject matter expert.”

Overseer: “You don’t understand. The requirement document was written at a very high level — much higher than you could understand — by very important and knowledgeable people. But I have long and deep experience in interpreting those documents!”

Me: “Um… I was the author of those requirement documents. I think I know what I wrote. With all your experience, did you not note their authorship?”

[Overseer] paused, looked around, and then mumbled:

Overseer: “Well, you were not very clear!”

I continued to write the course manuals, as they SHOULD have been written, to meet high-level submission dates. However, [Overseer] got even. He “lost” one of my final drafts that was supposed to be given to the typists so I would miss the submission date. When I dug up an earlier draft, he claimed I stole the final from his desk. How else could I replace it so quickly?

All ended well, however. Training documents were printed on time, [Organization] started the training classes, and I was selected to be the lead trainer/supervisor — never again to be under [Overseer].

It’s the very beginning of final exams, and I have three finals, three days in a row, starting tomorrow. I take a much-needed study break and walk off campus to get a coffee.

A handsome guy in a button-down shirt and tie comes up next to me as I’m waiting to cross the street and starts making polite small talk. We’re on the east coast, so I’m not familiar with the traditional mission that many young people of a certain religious group go on, and I don’t immediately recognize this guy as being on his mission. I’m mostly flattered that a handsome guy, albeit overdressed for his age in a college town, randomly starts talking to me.

Then, finally, the handsome guy asks me if I attend church.

Me: “Oh… Well, sometimes I go to that one.”

I point to the United Church Of Christ a block down.

Me: “Sometimes I go to Mass with my roommate, but I’m not Catholic, so she has to explain everything to me.”

The guy shows me a book he has.

Guy: “Would you be interested in reading this book about our Savior?”

He describes it a bit. I’m twenty and pretty open to learning about other religions at this point.

Me: “Sure, that would be interesting to read.”

Guy: “Will you promise to read it today?”

Me: “Well, no, I can’t read it today; I have finals starting tomorrow. But once finals are over, I’ll read it.”

Guy: “I can’t give it to you if you won’t read it. It’s important to me that you read it.”

Me: “I’ll read it. I just need to wait until finals are over.”

Guy: “No… I’m sorry, but if you won’t read it, I should save it for someone else.”

Me: *Pauses* “It’s finals. No one is reading anything but textbooks right now.”

And with that, the guy smiled and walked away.

He could have counted me as a convert if he’d just waited until finals were over! He needed to plan his timing a bit better. Anyway, his loss!

I’m working at the help desk at a large grocery store when I see a young man, probably around sixteen, come up to me. He looks a bit nervous as he hands me a piece of paper. He clears his throat and speaks what sounds like a well-rehearsed sentence.

Boy: “Hello. I’m currently a job seeker, and I would like to hand in my resumé for your consideration.”

Me: “That’s wonderful! However, we stopped taking in physical resumés a while ago. If you go to our website, at the bottom where it says, ‘WORK FOR US!’ you can upload your resumé.”

Boy: “Oh, okay! Thank you.”

He walks back out and I smile a little before helping another customer. Within seconds, an angry-looking older man storms up to me with the boy from earlier following sheepishly.

Older Man: “Why didn’t you take my grandson’s resumé?!”

Me: “We only accept them online now, sir.”

Older Man: “Nonsense! Young men these days need to pound the pavement!”

Me: “Sir, we stopped accepting physical resumés a while ago now. If your grandson is looking for a job, then uploading it online is his best—”

Older Man: “No! No, no, no! None of this computer nonsense! My grandson spends too much time on that d*** thing already! Now, you’re going to take my grandson’s resumé, and you’ll take it to the guy in charge!”

He shoves the resumé into my hands and storms off, dragging his grandson with him.

Older Man: “See, my boy? That’s how you get it done. Follow my advice and you’ll have a job by next week!”

When they were gone, I crumpled up the poor boy’s resumé, threw it in the trash (as per policy), and continued with my original customer.