Hats. For bats.

I've come to realize i'm not really an IT worker anymore. I'm more of an exorcist or a medicine man. Because most of the machines within the library system are hitting the ten year mark, and it takes nothing short of miracles and voodoo to keep them running.

You can hear it in their voices when they call the IT office, that request for help hinted with overtones of desperation and a sort of fearful reverence. As if the fear of asking our assistance for something too mundane would see them smote by the IT gods for their temerity. The more humble among the supplicants insist it "isn't anything too important" and we "Put it on the bottom of the list"

Tangent: The List. The users all seem to think that somewhere, in the darkest depths of Mordor the IT Office, beyond the twisted warrens created by the husks of dead client machines, there lay some kind of obsidian monolith, upon which the IT department scribes its goals for the time being.

The truth is, "the list" is little more than haphazardly placed post-its stuck to any surface able to hold place, from walls to monitors to empty Mountain Dew cans.

End tangent.

And when an IT person walks into another building or office, it's like that scene in The Exorcist where Father Merrin arrives. Enter; the IT person, much to the relief of the distraught co-worker who thanks us for taking the time to come. In reply, we ask where the troublesome machine is. I think I should start wearing a fedora to work for improved dramatic effect.

And when all is done, they tend to leave offerings of cookies and Mountain Dew in our office. They know what appeases our gods.

Thank you jobu. Pass the yams.