How do I tell the boss....
Discussion
... to shove his Blackberry?
I got into work this morning and was told to hand over my trusty old Nokia (no, not the 'brick' that was the subject of one of my posts a few years back) because I was to be 'Blackberried'.
I did try asking why and was advised that it was so that I could keep in touch by all means at all times
Now you could probably understand that some captain of industry might conceivably need to have his finger on the pulse of business, but one of those I am certainly not. I'm a techie. I fix things. Sometimes I design things, I even build things (like the thing I just knocked up for the Royal Navy, but I can't tell you about as it's Top Sec... oh, damn) but mostly I fix things.
I get paid a certain sum for a certain working week, and it doesn't bloody well include sitting in a hotel answering emails. FFS I don't even get my own emails when I'm away; why should I get works ones?
So our service manager comes out with 'image'. What feckin image?! I'm a bloody techie! Most of our clients couldn't give two sh!ts if I turned up ballcock naked as long as when I leave, their equipment is working.
I'm a tubby, grey-haired, middle-aged git with specs and a surly attitude. But so are most of the staff who work for most of our customers! Why the fudgenuts do I need to be any different? FFS they'll have me wearing company overalls and handing out business cards next.
All this aside, I'm a techno-buffoon. I remember my mate telling me about this new means of communication called 'email' and me asking what the point was. It'll never catch on, I remember saying. So here I am with a Blackberry, all feckin icons and bloody 'choons'. It's a p155ing kid's toy. It's electronic jewellery. It's this week's fad for the attention-deficit masses. It has a keyboard that Herve Villechaise would have struggled to use. A paedophile, that's who designed this thing. Gary furgling Glitter. I have techie's hands for christ's sake, I cover 3/4 of the bloody keypad with my little finger. What chance do I have of sending a meaningful text or email when every touch produces pl2Fk&EE>...? I'll be quoting customers $270000 for a 15w lightbulb, or £11.50 for a new factory.
It reminds me of when I first saw Windows XP. It's all cuddly and safe, nice little boxes of help popping up everywhere and pictures of clouds and grass. P155 off! I want black icons on a black background. I want text that I can read without an electron microscope. I want a keyboard I can stab at with huge stumpy fingers and manage to tell 'er indoors that I'll be home in ten, whilst holding the phone in my pocket. I want... I want my old phone back. It was a techie's phone: businesslike, clunky, simple. Sure, it didn't play a whank-tastic trumpet fanfare when a text arrived. I couldn't take high resolution photos of my c0ck in the hotel shower. But I could feckin well read the screen. I could find and dial a number in two seconds. I could text 'Ok' in respone to whatever earth-shattering emergency had befallen Rolls-Royce or Lufthansa. I didn't have to do some kind of Vulcan death-grip to get the keyboard to unlock. I could put it in my arse pocket and not find it had dialled Sydney, Australia or texted 'Slut' to 87633. I could leave it lying around and be fairly sure it'd still be there when I came back. I can almost hear the chav burglars scratching at the windows: they can sniff the bling, I know it. It's 'moving with the times', quoth the boss. No it's not, it's you trying to get me to do more work, in my own time, for no more money. Next you'll be 'touching base' with me, running things up the blue-sky flagpole and getting our ducks in a row. Well he can poke it. Emails can wait till the next working day. Texts will get the same curt answers I've always given. And the sooner I can find a way to lose/break/sell it on Ebay, the sooner my blood pressure will get back to normal.
Blackberry? Shove it up your ar53.
I got into work this morning and was told to hand over my trusty old Nokia (no, not the 'brick' that was the subject of one of my posts a few years back) because I was to be 'Blackberried'.
I did try asking why and was advised that it was so that I could keep in touch by all means at all times
Now you could probably understand that some captain of industry might conceivably need to have his finger on the pulse of business, but one of those I am certainly not. I'm a techie. I fix things. Sometimes I design things, I even build things (like the thing I just knocked up for the Royal Navy, but I can't tell you about as it's Top Sec... oh, damn) but mostly I fix things.
I get paid a certain sum for a certain working week, and it doesn't bloody well include sitting in a hotel answering emails. FFS I don't even get my own emails when I'm away; why should I get works ones?
So our service manager comes out with 'image'. What feckin image?! I'm a bloody techie! Most of our clients couldn't give two sh!ts if I turned up ballcock naked as long as when I leave, their equipment is working.
I'm a tubby, grey-haired, middle-aged git with specs and a surly attitude. But so are most of the staff who work for most of our customers! Why the fudgenuts do I need to be any different? FFS they'll have me wearing company overalls and handing out business cards next.
All this aside, I'm a techno-buffoon. I remember my mate telling me about this new means of communication called 'email' and me asking what the point was. It'll never catch on, I remember saying. So here I am with a Blackberry, all feckin icons and bloody 'choons'. It's a p155ing kid's toy. It's electronic jewellery. It's this week's fad for the attention-deficit masses. It has a keyboard that Herve Villechaise would have struggled to use. A paedophile, that's who designed this thing. Gary furgling Glitter. I have techie's hands for christ's sake, I cover 3/4 of the bloody keypad with my little finger. What chance do I have of sending a meaningful text or email when every touch produces pl2Fk&EE>...? I'll be quoting customers $270000 for a 15w lightbulb, or £11.50 for a new factory.
It reminds me of when I first saw Windows XP. It's all cuddly and safe, nice little boxes of help popping up everywhere and pictures of clouds and grass. P155 off! I want black icons on a black background. I want text that I can read without an electron microscope. I want a keyboard I can stab at with huge stumpy fingers and manage to tell 'er indoors that I'll be home in ten, whilst holding the phone in my pocket. I want... I want my old phone back. It was a techie's phone: businesslike, clunky, simple. Sure, it didn't play a whank-tastic trumpet fanfare when a text arrived. I couldn't take high resolution photos of my c0ck in the hotel shower. But I could feckin well read the screen. I could find and dial a number in two seconds. I could text 'Ok' in respone to whatever earth-shattering emergency had befallen Rolls-Royce or Lufthansa. I didn't have to do some kind of Vulcan death-grip to get the keyboard to unlock. I could put it in my arse pocket and not find it had dialled Sydney, Australia or texted 'Slut' to 87633. I could leave it lying around and be fairly sure it'd still be there when I came back. I can almost hear the chav burglars scratching at the windows: they can sniff the bling, I know it. It's 'moving with the times', quoth the boss. No it's not, it's you trying to get me to do more work, in my own time, for no more money. Next you'll be 'touching base' with me, running things up the blue-sky flagpole and getting our ducks in a row. Well he can poke it. Emails can wait till the next working day. Texts will get the same curt answers I've always given. And the sooner I can find a way to lose/break/sell it on Ebay, the sooner my blood pressure will get back to normal.
Blackberry? Shove it up your ar53.
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