Misreply.org

Whenever you get called into your VPs office almost as soon as you come in, you just have a feeling that it can’t be for a good reason.

“Luke…modo….can you come into my office for a bit?”
“Umm sure”, we both respond.
“If you have an iced tea or soda, bring that with you, we might be there a while”, says Andy.

No warning given, no topic thrown out…just a simple “come into my office” sounds almost dangerous. I almost wish I DID have an iced tea with me, so I could gulp down whatever was acting as the metaphorical blockage in my throat.

Was it something we had done? At work, I stick to my guns, and that causes somewhat of a rift between Corporate IT (me) and the customer network admins. They are Andy’s boys, hired personally, and preferred in the company. Often times, they think that they can have their say in terms of what happens on the corporate side. I disagree…while the network may be unified, I will not let anyone tell me how to run my network, my servers and how to treat my users. Sounds childish, I realize this, but having an element of control not only is self-satisfying, but also job security. What they do not understand is that people at Corporate are not customers, and should not be treated as such. At Corporate, you have the CEO, COO, and every VP and Director in the company. They do not want to feel restricted, and they want personal attention; attention that Modo and I are able to provide.

Just recently, we had a discussion about our switches. They want to replace our current switches with the latest and greatest. While I’m all for having cool new stuff to play with, I somehow do not think I would be allowed to. This would seem rather strange, to deny the network admin on site access to the local switches, but I felt that was what we were moving towards. They had already requested access to our network equipment, and I was forced to grant it at the request of the VP. No matter who you are, you don’t say no to the VP, no matter how much you disagree. I failed to see the point…why do they need telnet and enable access to our stuff? Simple answer is: They don’t. The switches here were configured correctly, vlaned properly, and connected in such a way that no single link was disastrous. We could lose a switch and traffic would still be routed around it. Well, so I gave them the passwords…I caved. However, that was only temporary, in my eyes. A week or so later, I telnetted into the switches and was going to change them again. I managed to change the enable password on all of the switches, and was able to change the telnet on all but one. That was odd…the old telnet password does not work? “sh users”. Figures…..one of them is on, and apparently doing exactly what I’m doing…changing passwords. They are already trying to deny me access to my own equipment. Are they really that worried about their jobs that they want to take over part of mine? I don’t fuck with their shit…they shouldn’t be fucking with mine. A few minutes later, I get an email from them, with the VP as a cc asking if I had changed the passwords. I told them “Well, I tried to change passwords, but my old one doesn’t work anymore.” Silence. Usually they respond instantly, but they had been caught in the act, and had nothing to say. Magically…an hour later, my old password works again. Hah….yea…nice try guys.

“Why do we need new switches?”, I asked. “These are old, they don’t support ifaliasing…[etc]“, responds x’douche #1. Ok…why is that even an issue, I thought to myself. You can still lookup port names, just not over SNMP. “But they aren’t broken, and we dont poll port names via SNMP”, I respond. “Oh, but that’s the thing… they ARE broken”. At this point we started going back and forth about how these switches have worked for years, they have a plethora of gigabit ports, and they support everything I need them to support. Apparently that was not good enough, even though it would make no financial sense at all to get new switches to replaces ones that are still under warranty.

I thought this meeting could have had something to do with coordination between CorpIT and them. Who knows…who cares?

Both of us, who make up the entire department basically, walked over. It could be something completely different, perhaps we were being reprimanded or worse? The walk around the corner does not leave you with much time to think, and perhaps that is for the better. Less time to worry, less time to overload your own brain with what is about to happen.

We sat down, and glanced at Andy’s face, which was contorted in a manner which revealed nothing. It could have been a scowl, it could have been the famous “I know something you don’t know” look, or it could have been worry.

“So, what’s up?”. asked either Dennis or I (who exactly said it are the kinds of details I don’t consider important enough to remember).
“Well…I don’t know how to say this…but the company is doing a pretty massive downsizing”
Oh shit….
Well that just sucks. I knew I should have been more responsible with money…I knew I shouldn’t have bought that motor for the Mustang…I knew I shouldn’t have fucked around with the X’douches.
“Oh, but don’t worry, you guys are safe”, he quickly added.
Whew…damn. Not sure if I should be relieved or horror struck by what he could possibly say next.
“…but Bob (not his real name) isn’t”.

“Bob” is our direct boss. He is the Director of both IT and IS for the company. Modo and I reported directly to him, and were unfortunate enough to have his desk overlooking ours. He was a cool dude, hailing from India, and having previous experiences all over the world in corporations such as IBM. He was a smart dude, and made what I assumed to be very decent money. He had just bought a new Acura MDX, he had bought a $350,000 home in King of Prussia, and just had a baby.

I understood the decision though, as remorseful as I felt about it. Bob was not a necessity to the company, and was bringing in a director level salary. Lately, with his baby’s health, and his wife starting a new job…he had been slacking a bit in attendance. He showed up late some days, took other days off (technically, they call it “working from home”, but I know better that that really means), and left early at times.

He was currently in the middle of a three week vacation. The man got canned and he isn’t even here to find out about it. How much does THAT suck…being let go while on vacation.

“But don’t tell him if you talk to him, or email him. I think I should be the one to tell him….that and I don’t want to ruin his vacation”, he added. Makes sense to me, I would not want to be the recipient of a phone call while I am sipping margaritas on the beach (as that would be MY vacation) telling me that I don’t need to hurry back. In Bob’s case, I’m sure it would involve something with curry and belly dancers, but who knows.

Among those let go were our graphic designer and some of our legacy employees left over from the satellite days. That was just corporate… there were a few people laid off from Texas as well: installers, tower crews, sales managers. But I was safe, and that is what mattered to me.

We sat there for another hour or so shooting the shit about the various changes that were going to go on in the company.

The next day Modo tells me that Apple Vacations had called him back. He was being offered a position as a Network Engineer in their PA office, with a nice pay increase. It made sense…he had been here for about eight years, which is a long time in today’s job market. It was time to advance his career, time to shake things up, and to leave for a company that has a stable future. Having just narrowly escaped with his job, it was not a feeling he wanted to experience again.

Now, nobody knows what the hell is going on. I neither have a boss nor a co-worker, so there is no corporate IT beyond me. Does this mean I am not going to change departments, or does it mean that new people will be brought in? I posed the question, and received no answer. Nobody here knows what the hell is going on.

At least I still have a job…

Personal

Modo wanted me to get a car almost as much as I did. Hell, if it wasn’t for him in the first place, I probably would not be sitting here about to buy a car. He owns a black 93 GT; complete with a supercharger, aftermarket heads, aftermarket intake among many other upgrades. The moment I met him, back in my first year of UPenn, the car was quick. It wasn’t fast…but it was quick. More importantly, it was fun to drive (of if you were me, to ride in). Naturally, being a Penn student at the time, and Modo being a Drexel grad, I began to furiously bust his chops about that fact. Typical Ivy League smug it was, but how often do you get to talk to someone who went to school right across the street from your school? On campus, the answer would be: fairly often, but this was outside the realm of school. Hell, he had graduated before I even started, but that point was irrelevant to me at the time. (note: I had known him for a bit at this point…even I’m not quite as bad as to “insult” someone without having any idea of who they were or how receptive they were to my type of humor) What it comes down to is: if I think you’re alright, then my acceptance of you is exemplified in my busting your balls. It’s a sign that I’m comfortable enough with you to know that you won’t get personally insulted, and therefore forge a stronger bond. Obviously, it’s not something I do constantly with my friends, but ball busting is done both ways rather freely. Ironically, I went to Drexel the next year, and received (and still do) my fair share of ball busting about it.

I was still sitting in the car; waiting. Modo had just called and asked me what I was up to. “I’m waiting for this chick to show up with the car”, I said. “What car…and is she hot?”, he responded. I had no idea if this woman was hot or not, I didn’t know anything about her. “This mustang I’m looking at….and I don’t know if she’s hot or not, I’ve never met her before”. His response was to be expected: “Yo dude, what the fuck, I thought you were going to take me along to look at cars.” Yea, I might have said that, and he DID go with me to look at the previous selections. But for some reason, he wasn’t along for the ride this time. I had found this car myself; he had no idea which car it even was, and for some reason, that felt kind of rewarding. I have no idea why he wanted me to get a car almost as much as I did, but he did. I could only assume that he wanted to be able to beat the piss out of a car that is not his own. Not like that was likely, but let him think. It’s not like I ever got the chance to drive his car hard or anything like that. “Yea, I know…but you were at Jen’s and I didn’t want to bother you to go look at another car”, I responded. I think that was good enough for him. “Nah man, I would have gone with you, I wanna see this shit.” Oh well, tough luck.

I thought I heard something. Was that the rumble of a mustang exhaust? Nope…just a Ford pickup truck driving by. Damn… it’s 8:10, where is this chick? Am I waiting in front of the right store…did she say 8:00…was she even planning on coming? A lot of questions float through your head when you’re an impatient sonofa bitch like me. Funny thing is, looking at it now…I wonder what I was so worried about. It was only 10 minutes, not like I can expect precise timing from everyone, especially taking into account the fact that people work, have lives, have families…have traffic…

We moved anyway. I drove around the parking lot for a bit, hoping to catch a glimpse of red somewhere in this lot. I didn’t see it. 8:20 – “what the hell”. My dad is as impatient as I am, it seems.

“There she is…I think”, I said as I saw a red mustang pull into the parking lot and proceed to the empty lot behind Sears. It was the only red mustang there, and it looked like it was waiting for someone. I put my car in gear and go to meet the mustang. It had to be her…it was the only mustang in the lot. Hell, it was the only red car in the lot. Red…mustang….alone….had to be. And it was.

She got out of the car, and the three of us just looked at each other. Damn…she was pretty hot. She got out of the car, and that was about as good as that part was going to get, as she was followed by her daughter and what I assumed to be her boyfriend. She was a mix of white and Hispanic, petite but with a well proportioned body. Her face was cute, with big brown eyes and shoulder length hair. Her accompanying gentleman (and I use this term lightly) looked like he could play backup for the 76ers. He was a monster compared to her. She was about five foot two, and he was about a foot and a half taller. I couldn’t really see too much detail; he was black, was wearing black clothes, a black cap and it was dark outside. I figured his looks to be irrelevant. Her daughter, who was also his, was a mix of the two, and looked like she was about seven or so.

“Hey, I’m Luke, we spoke earlier”, I introduced myself. She gave me her name, and turned around to introduce Victor, her escort. She said they used to date, and had her daughter, but still hung around, and that she brought him because she didn’t want to meet some random guy alone. It made sense, although it shocked me a bit to hear how much information she was freely divulging. Not that it wasn’t interesting, but I don’t know of many people who would be so open. As she turned around to grab her daughter, I saw the back of her “one size too small on purpose” shirt come up and reveal a tattoo in the small of her back. The tattoo read “Victor”, and had little hearts around it. How cute…get a tattoo of the guy’s name that you are no longer “with”. I don’t judge, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t snicker about it when I got home.

“So, tell me a bit more about the car”, I said after we talked about random bullshit for a half hour. I could see that both my dad and Baz were getting a bit impatient standing there, although I couldn’t help but notice both of them checking this girl out. She told me that she bought the car from a dealer, and that it was all original. I liked that. It’s hard to find a 5.0 mustang that hasn’t already been fucked with. As I talked to her about the history of the car, and how she babied it and took care of it, and all that other happy horseshit, Baz and my dad were looking over the car. Baz checked the body to make sure it was straight, checked the torque boxes, and both looked over the body to see if they could notice any scratches or dents. I didn’t expect the car to be perfect, especially for the advertised price. I was surprised how good it actually looked. It had a few scratches, but nothing that would be outside normal driving wear. Minor dents that were attributed to road debris or hail were present, but again, still beyond acceptable.

“Can I take it for a spin around the lot?”, I asked. “Sure, go ahead…Victor will go with you.” At least she was smart; while she had divulged a lot of random information about herself, but she wasn’t about to trust someone with her car. We all (me, Baz, my dad and Victor) squeezed into the car. I told Baz that he should probably be the one to drive it, since he has a lot more experience in “feeling” certain things out in cars. He had years of experience, he had built cars, he had stripped them down and put them back together; he knew what he was looking for. Car ran good. Save for a little bit of play in the harmonic balancer, the car ran better than I expected.

“Alright, I’ll take it.”

to be continued…

cars