I was an IT contractor for a major European defence contractor many many years ago — think room-sized mainframes, eighty-column punch cards, and green bar fanfold listings.

One week, after being vetted by the local security service, I was working late at night in the building where IT was housed. The vending machine in our building was out of order, and I was feeling peckish, so I went to look for a vending machine in another building where people worked on radar, radios, sonar, jammers, etc. — so, loads and loads of very expensive electronic gear.

I was amused and amazed by the idea that I was wandering around in a building, where I didn’t work and had no real business being in, at 02:00, yet nobody challenged me.

Every six months or so we had these briefings, complete with Super 8mm movies, by the local security service where we were told to clean out our desks at the end of the day, to lock our filing cabinets before leaving, and to be aware of friendly strangers with certain accents trying to strike up a conversation. Obsolete listings were to be shredded — the same listings we noticed our end users were recycling as scratch paper.

Related:
Bring A Bucket And A Mop For This Weak A** Security

I worked as a technician at a store that sold arcade machines, pool tables, and man-cave furniture, among other things. In short, the machines were basically on display as a “try me” type thing, so we’d let people play a few times for free, our business being to sell the entire machine. Of course, this catered either to the richer crowd or other businesses planning on making money with the machines.

One day, a customer complained that the claw machine was shocking him when he touched it. I explained what an AC shock feels like as opposed to a static shock, and he said it was an AC shock. I asked him to point to what shocked him, and he pointed at the box where the controls were. I got my voltage detector pen from my tool kit and tested it on a known live outlet, and only then did I check the machine with it. Sure enough, all the outside metal pieces were live!

Needless to say, this was quite unsafe, but given its position, I couldn’t reach the cord without touching it. That left me with no choice but to use the breakers. I asked my coworker at the computer/register which breaker controlled those outlets.

Coworker: “I don’t know.”

Me: “You should properly shut down the computer; it might lose power in a minute.”

Coworker: “Why?”

Me: “The claw machine is shocking people, and I can’t unplug it without touching the metal parts.”

Coworker: “The computer needs to stay on.”

I literally facepalmed right in front of him.

Me: “The computer is not a life support system. The claw machine is currently a death trap, and I can’t just guard it all day. So, you have about a minute to shut the computer down before it — maybe — loses power.”

After taking a few guesses, I found the right breaker to that cluster of outlets feeding the claw machine, and thankfully, the almighty computer was not affected. (Not that there was anyone buying anything. Even if there was, a major electrical fault trumps a sale.) I safely unplugged the claw machine and turned the breakers back on. I then wheeled the machine into the back room.

As the technician in the store, this was more or less my job to repair, so after tinkering around with a multimeter and my voltage detector pen, and some trial and error (no shocks), I discovered that the machine’s power supply was faulty — AND the ground pin on the plug was also missing from it. If it had been on there, any voltage present in the case would have blown the machine’s internal fuse or the circuit breaker. I simply removed the fuse from the machine, and I put a note over the fuse slot stating why the fuse was missing and not to plug it back in without the boss’s or my permission. I then called my boss (who wasn’t there that day) and left a message.

And behold, the next day, the claw machine was back on the floor again, though in a different position, lit up and apparently ready to play. Of course, my coworkers couldn’t be trusted with so much as a USB cable, so I had to double-check that they had actually fixed it. Nope, it was still live. But how did they get it powered again when I took the fuse out? 

If you guessed, “They bypassed the fuse,” then congratulations! 

I did end up replacing the power supply and putting the proper fuse back in. Someone eventually replaced the plug, as well, but no one said who it was, and more importantly, they didn’t tell me where our spare plugs are so I could fix other machines that were missing their ground prongs. (That was a bit of a theme there.)

The store in question ended up going out of business a few months later.

I am in college studying IT, and I am a student worker at the help desk. Like most universities, we have a lot of online students. This semester, we rolled out two-factor authentication. It’s been causing some issues, but for the most part, they can be resolved in two minutes.

A lady calls and says she needs a bypass code. When they get to this bypass code screen, that means they didn’t activate their account on their phone in time and we need to activate it for them. If they didn’t enroll with their phone number, we can just add it with their username — but they need to know their username.

Lady: “I’m trying to get into my account and I’m getting a screen asking for a bypass code.”

Me: “Okay. Can I have your username, please?”

Lady: “I don’t remember it.”

Mind you, she JUST logged in if she is seeing this screen.

Me: “All right, can I get your phone number, then?”

She gives it to me, but it doesn’t pop up in the system.

Me: “Did you change your number recently?”

Lady: “No.”

Me: “Is there any way you can remember your username? That’s the only way I can activate your account without your phone number listed.”

Lady: “F*** that s***! I’ve been dealing with this s*** for two months now! I’m just going to transfer to [Other School] because you guys are f****** useless.”

She couldn’t get in for two months? Why is she just now calling? Was she missing classes for two months and didn’t think to contact anyone? Plus, the refund period has passed and midterms are next week. I don’t think she’s getting her money back.

The good news is that I probably won’t have to deal with her again.

I work in tech support for an ISP in the UK, and this story always sticks to me as a time I made a difference.

It is late toward the end of a late-evening shift when I get a call from a woman who is distressed and about to cry down the phone. She asks if I can help with the voicemail on her copper landlines; her husband passed away a few months ago and had recorded a message on it.

This has already been going on for a few months; the provisioning department somehow ceased the woman’s services a couple of months ago when changing the account to her name. They somehow struggled to reorder the service, and then they told her everything was lost without confirming with tech support.

Sensing her distress, I slow down.

Me: “Would you please describe as best you can what you mean by ‘message’ and when this was recorded?”

Woman: “It was done years ago. It’s a message meant to play when someone calls the line.”

This narrows it down to one of two things: either the voicemail service built into the line at the exchange level or her handset. The built-in one would mean everything is indeed lost. The other gives hope, so hope we will.

Me: “Give me five minutes. I’m going to ring your line; let it ring to voicemail.”

We hang up, and I go into the systems to remove the built-in voicemail message. Then, I take a deep breath and ring her number.

Thirty seconds in, a gruff older gentleman starts speaking, saying to leave a message. Before I know what is happening, the tears start streaming, and the lady picks up. I try my best to keep a clear voice.

Me: “I think I may have sorted it. Try ringing your landline from a mobile. I’ll call back in two minutes.”

I ring back as promised and am met with happy crying and profuse thank-yous.

Woman: “You’ve given me the first moment of joy I’ve had in months!”

Me: “It’s just my job to try and help, ma’am. I wish you well.”

In the aftermath, I just sat there in disbelief that she’d had four months of misery all because no one in the other department thought to confirm an issue with us, the ones who actually know how it works.

This isn’t a complex story, but I thought it was worth sharing that there are times when we can genuinely provide joy for others.

Client: “Your website is not working. It isn’t resetting my password!”

Me: “I apologize, ma’am, I can reset it for you right now… All right, I’ve reset your password to the word ‘password’.”

Client: “Let me try it before you hang up.”

Me: “Sounds good.”

Client: “Nope! This d*** thing isn’t working!”

Me: “Hmm. Okay, I’ll reset it again… Try now.”

Client: “It still isn’t working, for— D***… S***… What kind of rinky-dink operation are you running over there?!”

Me: “Ma’am, maybe we should go over how you’re spelling ‘password’?”

Client: “Don’t patronize me! P-A-S-W-O-R-D… Happy?”

Me: “No, ma’am, I haven’t been happy for a while…”