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When I was 15, I understood computers. That was a long time ago and computers were a lot simpler than they are now. But I was, for a few years, one of the few people who actually knew what was going on inside the plastic box.
That has now changed. I can no longer claim to be particularly computer literate. I can get through the basics like e-mail and Microsoft Office, but set up a Wi-fi system, download television programmes from the internet, or work out why my printer sometimes just doesn't do anything at all no matter how politely I ask? No chance.
I am made to feel embarrassed about this quite regularly by my very helpful brother-in-law who is always available to sort out whatever computer problem I have. The only price I have to pay is to put up with his smirk when I admit that I don't know what some piece of esoteric computer jargon means and listening to him explain at length what he is doing, also generally in incomprehensible jargon.
That said, I am happy to accept my place in the world as one of the people who is no longer able to keep up with technology. I am also no longer able to fix my car, repair broken toys or make a mix tape, all of these things having been taken over by microchips.
But what I struggle with is that I still feel like I understand computers better than the people who work in our IT department. Not so long ago, I had the following exchange with something sarcastically called the Help Desk.
"I can't log on to my computer, I'm locked out for some reason."
"Yes, Mr Alanson, under our new policy, all requests for assistance must be submitted by e-mail," said the guy at the other end of the line.
"Right, that sounds like a very sensible policy, but the problem I have is that I can't access my e-mail so I need you to unlock it somehow."
"As soon as we receive your e-mail request I will assign an engineer to assist you," and so on.
Now I imagine the kid at the other end of the line is probably a computer wizard, but the person in the IT department who decided on the policy obviously had not grasped the link between using e-mail and having an operating computer.
One other problem that I face from time to time is that the firewall automatically catches all e-mails that look like junk. If someone sends me an e-mail suggesting that I purchase an erectile dysfunction medication, for example, the firewall will catch it before it clogs up my inbox. It will do the same thing with e-mails from people in Nigeria who need my help accessing multimillion-dollar estates left to them by their deceased relatives.
The problem arises when a client sends me something that also looks like it might be spam or is otherwise dodgy. This can happen if a client decides, for example, to share a funny video with me like one of their toddler falling off a chair, or perhaps a particularly amusing beer commercial from whatever country they live in.
Now, whether I like it or not, I have to be friendly with my clients, particularly the ones who are familiar enough with me to send me silly videos. Social convention therefore dictates that I reply with something like "Good one" or "looks like you on a Friday night" or some equally banal remark.
In order to be able to send that reply, I have to call the IT department and retrieve the quarantined message.
"I just got a message that an e-mail sent to me by Harry Henderson has been quarantined. Can you release it for me please?"
"Our policy is that we can only release quarantined mail necessary for business requirements. Is it necessary for business requirements?" asks the nameless person at the other end of the line.
"Well, I haven't seen it, so I can't really say what it is, but it's from a client so I really should reply. If the firewall caught it, then it's probably a funny video, which even though it isn't directly related to business is still probably something I should respond to."
"Our policy is only to release it if the business confirms it is necessary for business requirements," he says helpfully.
"It sort of is," I say.
"If you confirm that it is necessary for business requirements then only can I release it."
"All right, it's necessary for business requirements."
"OK, releasing now."
Like computers strictly follow computer programs, IT people strictly follow computer policies, so I am forced to lie. The e-mail is released and when I open it, I see an extremely silly movie involving an inflatable paddling pool, bubble bath and an unfeasibly fat and quite hairy man with stability issues.
"Good one," I reply, "looks like you on a Friday night." Job done.
IT help desk is really just a desk
Sunday, May 16, 2010
