I Realy Don't Care

Rant

I really don’t care.

I don’t care that your computer is infested with spyware, causing pictures to open up by themselves. I don’t care how much money you spent just to have a giant, 2.8GHz paperweight. I don’t care that your network is home to names, home addresses, and social security numbers of 10,000 individuals, and protected by security which my cat could break through. One more time: I don’t care.

At the end of the day, there is one thing I do care about. You annoying wanna-be power users. I hate you. I despise you. I hope you get crippling arthritis in your fingers and can never type again.

Why on earth do you think that being able to change passwords and set a few profile restrictions on your domain controller makes you qualified to be your company’s domain administrator? Half the professional techs I know aren’t qualified to be administrators for a Windows domain, and you think a few help documents you found on the Internet are better than their years of experience and training?

“No, I didn’t graduate from medical school, but I found some tutorials on the web that will get me through your appendectomy.”

Sure, you go ahead and believe that, but when you make the 11 o’clock news because the 10,000 records of names, addresses, and social security numbers you maintain wound up on the Internet, don’t call me. I’m not going to touch it. I warned you about passwords that can be cracked faster than you can enter them.

As you are not qualified to do the job, you certainly aren’t qualified to dish out advice about it. Thanks you you, I have to waste my time telling others like you and novice users alike how they aren’t as impenetrable as they think just because they installed a desktop firewall or are behind a NAT router. Since you are the long-time trusted source for information (that guy in accounting who is really good with computers, or your nephew who plays computer games a lot) there is no way I convince victims of your ignorance to trust my advice.

False authority syndrome sucks. Look it up.

On the rare occasion I do feel sorry enough for you to get involved if your tragic technical situations, shut the hell up and let me do my job. I don’t need you second guessing my every decision, and demanding I explain everything I do. When the bill gets run up because you won’t leave me alone, or because your network looks like it was designed by retarded lemming, just shut up and pay the bill.

I could have redeployed all of your repaired workstations in a fraction of the time, but considering that I had to manually set up every printer on your network by hand instead of pointing to a share on the server, well, your lucky it didn’t take even longer. Sure, I’ll recover old, tainted profiles off of your dying machines and manually move them to a new workstation, but its going to cost you. Your employees were too dumb and hardheaded to save documents to the server share? Sorry, they are gone. I told you about folder redirection, and the ability to, for the most part, keep users from saving documents to their local machines, but you didn’t listen.

But, in the end, I don’t care. You’ve dug your own grave, and its yours to lie in. If you pay me enough, I’ll pretend to care, at least for a little while. If you’ve got the money, I’ll be over here playing with my Mac and Linux boxes. No, don’t ask me to explain those to you.