By Spods For Spods

At work they have just migrated all our servers. I type that as I know what it means. I guess it means they have moved all our files and data and stuff to another rack-mounted box, but it could just as easily mean that all the servers have sprouted wings and flown of to Africa for the Winter. Mostly likely to Nigeria where they can be mined for data and bank details until they are forced to shit our money through their power sockets right into the clammy hands of every scammer in the land.

I am cursed with this lack of knowledge because of our ICT department. They are, almost without exception, they biggest collection of Aspbergers goons on the face of God’s Holy Earth. Goons, techies, spods, geeks and techno-fuckwads of the highest order.

Have they explained why they are migrating servers? No. Instead they sent out an email telling us it is part of a rolling plan to put the whole organisation on the same server footing, whatever this means. They also said that after the migration (1) we would be able to move file more securely. More securely? Do they mean that we have been moving things in an insecure manner before? And how will this move from one box to another afford us this extra level of security? Fuck knows. The email from IT didn’t say. Either they don’t know or, more likely, don’t think we’d understand. So why fucking tell us? They may have well said that the server migration would allow all users to speak to the dead soul of the last unicorn. Or that once it is done each user will be able to fax their hand to the moon in the USB slot. Or that… oh fuck it, look the point is that information with no context or explanation is just noise.

Another wonderful thing that our highly paid and resourced ICT shower of shite have done is leave the whole organising of folder structures up to us. Why? When I’ve had website hosts tell me they are moving servers, they have never asked me to provide them with a directory listing showing how I wanted it organised on the new site. They just transferred what was already there to the new server. Done and dusted with only a couple of hours downtime. Not our dolts, oh no. They want us to make sure every single one of our hundreds of thousands of filenames are under 128 characters but have provided no list or method of identifying which ones exceed that limit. Result? Hundreds of man hours spent pouring through MS Explorer renaming Word docs and Excel sheets. Why? No one knows.

Total fucking insanity. And all because a group of socially inadequate Star Wars fans are so wrapped up in being the cleverest little spod in the team that not one of the giant anal warts has thought to ask how much of this is either necessary for or achievable by the ordinary plebs who have to put up with this crap.

We should rebel. We should rise as one to light the emergency torches and break out the pitch forks so we can march upon the fourth floor. We should round up the Buffy droolers and make them tell us why they are doing this and why we have to do half the fucking work for them. And for each poor answer we receive we should run one of the Hobbit botherers through and toss him out of the window to cries of “Can you fly, Bobby?”. Pretty soon we will have answers. And less IT spods. It’s a win win idea. Pass me a lighter.

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(1) What a great day is the Glorious 26th when across the land furious office workers armed with airzookers and rubber-band gattling guns from the team joker’s cubicle lean out of office windows across the land and bring down the majestic servers as they migrate south for no good reason whatsoever.