Working on a computer helpdesk was a bit stressful, but there were only a couple of times when it really got to me. Here’s the second instance.
I was working by myself late one evening and looking forward to going home and relaxing. With about 20 minutes to go before I put the phones on voice-mail, a call came in from a faculty member looking for help with Windows 98 dial up networking. That alone will tell you how long ago this was, but it was pretty well burned into my memory.
I had been working at the helpdesk long enough that I could walk someone through this process with my eyes closed and my computer turned off, but I was not prepared for this support call.
He didn’t listen to my instructions, so I had to repeat everything. He clicked on things randomly and was never in the same place I was. He backtracked for no reason. I was beginning to think it was some kind of test of my patience, so I grabbed a stress ball and settled in for the long haul – never letting any of my frustration creep into my voice.
A little while later, still no closer to the end, I added a second stress ball to my clenched fist.
Then, I heard a horrible sound – the trill of a windows computer shutting down. I asked him what happened and he said, “Oh, I rebooted my computer,”
“Okay,” I replied, struggling not to swear, “Well, we weren’t really ready for that step, so when it comes back up we’ll need to… start again. From the beginning.”
By this point, the stress balls were compressed into diamonds. I pulled an un-sharpened pencil out of the drawer and snapped it.
The little bit of destruction was enough to get though the reboot and we started again. I talked a little faster to keep him on track and we finally got to the last OK. The final step was for us to end the call and have him test this out since he only had one phone line. I told him that I needed to head out for the evening and if things didn’t work he could call the helpdesk back tomorrow and we could pick it up then. He agreed and we hung up.
I hit the “send all calls to voicemail” button like it was a button to defuse a bomb – which it was, in a way. The stress balls returned to normal shape, the broken pencil went in the trash and I logged off and headed for my car.
I got home, tired and hungry, to the sound of a ringing phone. I picked it up even before I set my stuff down.
“Hi son, it’s your mom,” she said, “I’ve got a problem for my favorite geek – my printer isn’t working,”
I signed to myself and dropped my bag on the floor.
“Okay, is the printer turned on and can you see a green light?”