If your boss ever says to you the words “workstation maintenance” you run. Run like the wind.

Yesterday I started my co-op work term at a company that shall remain nameless (not that I’d complain about them here if I had a problem anyway… I’m not stupid) as a “System/Network Administrator”. Granted, my actual job is not as impressive as that sounds, but I think I’m going to like it pretty well. I’m learning from the student that worked here the previous term right now, but in a week he goes back to school and then the only IT people for this particular location are me and a career techie who floats back and forth between this location and another one. So the techie (whom henceforth I dub “Valerie”) won’t be here about half the time and I’ll be the only on-location tech support person at the complex … Clearly I’ll be contacting Valerie a lot. My responsibilities include routine stuff like changing the backup tapes in the servers, less routine stuff like dashing off to the rescue when something breaks and (hopefully) fixing it, as well as some projects and stuff.

This week, the project is to run through the workstation maintenance checklist on every desktop machine at the company.

This is about as much fun as it sounds. Or as I said to someone earlier, “More fun than a barrel of monkeys… provided that those monkeys are dead and your job is to count and catalogue each and every one of the malignant tumours that dispatched them to their cylindrical grave.”

Luckily, I don’t think we have to do this very often, and it’ll be over soon. If I ever have to update windows for someone else again after this it will be too soon.

On a lighter note, they have the coolest device ever at this place. It’s a machine that cuts designs out of metal with a freaking laser. I don’t know what would happen if I were left alone with this thing, but I can only imagine it would go something like this:

Andrew (not actual boss’s name): Hey, uh… Ryan? Did you by any chance cut the words “Ryan rules” into that steel sheet with the laser?

Me: Nope.

Andrew: Are you sure? The evidence is pretty compelling.

Me: I think it must have been someone else.

Andrew: Then why is your face still frozen in an expression of child-like glee and wonder, as if you just achieved everything you’ve ever desired?

Me: Hm. I don’t know. The vending machine gave me a free chocolate bar today.

Andrew: Look, I didn’t want it to come to this, but not only do I have security camera footage of you writing this message, I’ve also got footage of you placing an action figure in the enclosure, shouting “no mister Bond I expect you to die” and laughing maniacally for about 10 minutes straight.

Me: You know, I think I left Bob’s computer logged into administrator. I’ll be right back.