sessifet: (Working)
Quick explanation how we treat authentication issues where I work. There's two flavours: 721 are the ones where the handshake fails to complete. It will show no logs on the BRAS or show rejected attempts. 691 are the ones where the handshake completes, but is not recognised, so it encompasses bad password, getting continuously redirected etc. It doesn't correspond to the actual original error codes, but that's the way they're logged. Possibly because our resellers are deficient in the brain department and we've found it best not to confuse them too much.

So, on to the story:

Working a 721 error earlier today. It's been handled before and passed back stating no fault found and everything should be working, please retest. Fault gets reraised. By this time, the customer is pissed off and has turned off their computer. In this day and age not a problem, right? Right. Except that the nice reseller hadn't told us the customer had a USB modem. So this gets picked up by one of my coworkers, who runs a couple of tests and find equipment connected and a disconnection in the network. And hey, the customer hasn't been in sync for two days. This gets logged to OpenReach (for non-UKians: phone/frames engineers. They maintain the copper network and such)

The engineer runs a few tests and finds that the customer is getting dial tone so he says there is no fault. Fair enough. He should still repair it. And this is where the fun really starts: he states in his job notes: 'exchange equipment stolen from the exchange which is why the customer cannot authenticate he says he is getting 721 error on connecting computer so this is a broadband fault.'

I read that and couldn't help but laugh. Seriously, we'd notice if someone went in and nicked our stuff. Honestly. *

And then I continue checking: customer has had multiple connection logs. Customer has multiple successful authentications an hour. So it is not a 721 or a 691 error. It looks like intermittent sync. Check some more things. Find out the customer is using a USB modem. Doublecheck something with people slightly geekier than I. Guess what? Handshake being interrupted by dropping sync will almost definitely cause Windows to display a 721 error when using a USB modem. Yay.

So tomorrow I get to call OpenReach again and ask if their frames engineer was on fucking crack today, run some tests and call the customer who will almost certainly not have been asked to test with alternate equipment and I will have to log the fault out again to have the dis repaired, this time by someone who has a clue and doesn't listen to the customer.

Oh joy.

*I have been valiantly trying to get rid of the image of someone dressed like the HamBurglar sneaking into one of our exchanges and making off with a couple of MSAN cards or a BRAS. Entirely too amusing an image.
sessifet: (Working)
Quick explanation how we treat authentication issues where I work. There's two flavours: 721 are the ones where the handshake fails to complete. It will show no logs on the BRAS or show rejected attempts. 691 are the ones where the handshake completes, but is not recognised, so it encompasses bad password, getting continuously redirected etc. It doesn't correspond to the actual original error codes, but that's the way they're logged. Possibly because our resellers are deficient in the brain department and we've found it best not to confuse them too much.

So, on to the story:

Working a 721 error earlier today. It's been handled before and passed back stating no fault found and everything should be working, please retest. Fault gets reraised. By this time, the customer is pissed off and has turned off their computer. In this day and age not a problem, right? Right. Except that the nice reseller hadn't told us the customer had a USB modem. So this gets picked up by one of my coworkers, who runs a couple of tests and find equipment connected and a disconnection in the network. And hey, the customer hasn't been in sync for two days. This gets logged to OpenReach (for non-UKians: phone/frames engineers. They maintain the copper network and such)

The engineer runs a few tests and finds that the customer is getting dial tone so he says there is no fault. Fair enough. He should still repair it. And this is where the fun really starts: he states in his job notes: 'exchange equipment stolen from the exchange which is why the customer cannot authenticate he says he is getting 721 error on connecting computer so this is a broadband fault.'

I read that and couldn't help but laugh. Seriously, we'd notice if someone went in and nicked our stuff. Honestly. *

And then I continue checking: customer has had multiple connection logs. Customer has multiple successful authentications an hour. So it is not a 721 or a 691 error. It looks like intermittent sync. Check some more things. Find out the customer is using a USB modem. Doublecheck something with people slightly geekier than I. Guess what? Handshake being interrupted by dropping sync will almost definitely cause Windows to display a 721 error when using a USB modem. Yay.

So tomorrow I get to call OpenReach again and ask if their frames engineer was on fucking crack today, run some tests and call the customer who will almost certainly not have been asked to test with alternate equipment and I will have to log the fault out again to have the dis repaired, this time by someone who has a clue and doesn't listen to the customer.

Oh joy.

*I have been valiantly trying to get rid of the image of someone dressed like the HamBurglar sneaking into one of our exchanges and making off with a couple of MSAN cards or a BRAS. Entirely too amusing an image.
sessifet: (WTF!Daisies)
Here's a few little hints you might want to rethink driving that car:

- You have two walking sticks on the passenger seat.

- Pedestrians flatten themselves against the nearest wall or fling themselves behind the nearest tree as you hurtle past at approximately light speed, leaving clouds of noxious fumes.

- You are using your teeth to grip the steering wheel as you shift gear.

- You're not using your original teeth to grip the steering wheel, or

- You're not using any teeth to grip the steering wheel but are merely gumming it.

- You can't see without those inch thick glasses.

- You can't see a hell of a lot more with those inch thick glasses.

- You are wearing a cap that is wider than your ears and longer than your nose.

In short:

- If bloody Methuselah himself would fucking call you gramps and offer you his seat on the bloody train, you're damned well not supposed to be fucking driving, you maniac.

No love,

Me

*twitch*
sessifet: (WTF!Daisies)
Here's a few little hints you might want to rethink driving that car:

- You have two walking sticks on the passenger seat.

- Pedestrians flatten themselves against the nearest wall or fling themselves behind the nearest tree as you hurtle past at approximately light speed, leaving clouds of noxious fumes.

- You are using your teeth to grip the steering wheel as you shift gear.

- You're not using your original teeth to grip the steering wheel, or

- You're not using any teeth to grip the steering wheel but are merely gumming it.

- You can't see without those inch thick glasses.

- You can't see a hell of a lot more with those inch thick glasses.

- You are wearing a cap that is wider than your ears and longer than your nose.

In short:

- If bloody Methuselah himself would fucking call you gramps and offer you his seat on the bloody train, you're damned well not supposed to be fucking driving, you maniac.

No love,

Me

*twitch*
sessifet: (WTF!Daisies)
Or

How I managed to freak out that one cute co-worker.

There's this guy at work, and he's cute. No, he's beyond cute. He's gorgeous. A simply stunningly handsome guy. Tall, well-built, beautiful hands, a gorgeous face and the most sexy voice you can imagine. Seriously, hearing his voice makes me go straight to my happy place. I've been ogling him for the past two weeks, and have even said 'hi' to him a few times at the coffee machine (go me!).

Now, today I get to work and settle behind my computer. Say hi to a few other co-workers and generally goof around all morning because, hey, it's glorious outside and people aren't calling us because they're all outside enjoying the weather (or stuck at work, like us poor sods). Occasionally, I see him scooting past, and without fail, I forget what I'm doing and just stare at the pretty until it's either out of sight or I am rudely interrupted by a lone customer who seems to think having a working internet connection is somehow important.

One call I take is a tricky one, and i spend about half an hour on the phone with this customer. Fix the problem, customer happy. Yay. About halfway through wrap-up, I see him wandering towards me. Oh my god, pretty co-worker is coming in my direction!

I promptly lose my ability to type because "Eeeee! Approaching pretty!". Wrap-up takes twice as long because I also lose the ability to think straight because Oh dear lord he's sitting down on my desk and looking at me, and oh god I can't handle this what if he talks to me! Which he does. Of course. Smiles at me (*melt*) and says "I haven't seen you around before. New?".

Me : "Gur..."

He introduces himself and asks my name.

Me: "Uuuh...".

Him: "Are you always this articulate?"

My brain: He made a joke! Quick, laugh. Make a joke. Do something! Oh gods, say something!

My response?

"I have daisies!"*

My brain: I hate you.

Him: Oooohkay. See you around then.

"I have daisies." I can't believe I said that. I could've said any number of things that wouldn't have made me sound like I should be in a safe place with soft walls. See, this is why I am incapable of picking up new guys. *headdesks*

*Okay, this actually isn't as inane as it sounds. Well, it is, I guess, but there were actually daisies on my desk. For some reason, someone decided to start handing out daisies to the girls working for this ISP. Others followed his example and started handing out daisies as well. I had about 20 arranged around my monitor.
sessifet: (WTF!Daisies)
Or

How I managed to freak out that one cute co-worker.

There's this guy at work, and he's cute. No, he's beyond cute. He's gorgeous. A simply stunningly handsome guy. Tall, well-built, beautiful hands, a gorgeous face and the most sexy voice you can imagine. Seriously, hearing his voice makes me go straight to my happy place. I've been ogling him for the past two weeks, and have even said 'hi' to him a few times at the coffee machine (go me!).

Now, today I get to work and settle behind my computer. Say hi to a few other co-workers and generally goof around all morning because, hey, it's glorious outside and people aren't calling us because they're all outside enjoying the weather (or stuck at work, like us poor sods). Occasionally, I see him scooting past, and without fail, I forget what I'm doing and just stare at the pretty until it's either out of sight or I am rudely interrupted by a lone customer who seems to think having a working internet connection is somehow important.

One call I take is a tricky one, and i spend about half an hour on the phone with this customer. Fix the problem, customer happy. Yay. About halfway through wrap-up, I see him wandering towards me. Oh my god, pretty co-worker is coming in my direction!

I promptly lose my ability to type because "Eeeee! Approaching pretty!". Wrap-up takes twice as long because I also lose the ability to think straight because Oh dear lord he's sitting down on my desk and looking at me, and oh god I can't handle this what if he talks to me! Which he does. Of course. Smiles at me (*melt*) and says "I haven't seen you around before. New?".

Me : "Gur..."

He introduces himself and asks my name.

Me: "Uuuh...".

Him: "Are you always this articulate?"

My brain: He made a joke! Quick, laugh. Make a joke. Do something! Oh gods, say something!

My response?

"I have daisies!"*

My brain: I hate you.

Him: Oooohkay. See you around then.

"I have daisies." I can't believe I said that. I could've said any number of things that wouldn't have made me sound like I should be in a safe place with soft walls. See, this is why I am incapable of picking up new guys. *headdesks*

*Okay, this actually isn't as inane as it sounds. Well, it is, I guess, but there were actually daisies on my desk. For some reason, someone decided to start handing out daisies to the girls working for this ISP. Others followed his example and started handing out daisies as well. I had about 20 arranged around my monitor.
sessifet: (Default)
Scary dress

Now, I want that dress. I crave it, actually. It makes me want to spork my eyes out, but I just want it. I'd never ever wear it, of course. I'd just put it in a closet and take it out every once in a while so I can go 'Holy amazing shit, that's a scary dress' and put it back again. For some reason, I find this thought incredibly satisfying and funny.

Proof, therefore, that I should not, after only three hours of sleep, drink two bottles of ginger ale and idly scull the internet. It makes my imagination go to scary places.

*falls over*
sessifet: (Default)
Scary dress

Now, I want that dress. I crave it, actually. It makes me want to spork my eyes out, but I just want it. I'd never ever wear it, of course. I'd just put it in a closet and take it out every once in a while so I can go 'Holy amazing shit, that's a scary dress' and put it back again. For some reason, I find this thought incredibly satisfying and funny.

Proof, therefore, that I should not, after only three hours of sleep, drink two bottles of ginger ale and idly scull the internet. It makes my imagination go to scary places.

*falls over*
sessifet: (Default)
...They shot a bird today.

It had got in the hall where the dominoes world record is due to be held on Friday. It knocked over a few dominoes, and then they called pest control to have it shot.

Yes, I live in a world where a tiny bird will be shot to save bits of plastic.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be over there pumping money into the space exploration program, because I want to move to Mars.
sessifet: (Default)
...They shot a bird today.

It had got in the hall where the dominoes world record is due to be held on Friday. It knocked over a few dominoes, and then they called pest control to have it shot.

Yes, I live in a world where a tiny bird will be shot to save bits of plastic.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be over there pumping money into the space exploration program, because I want to move to Mars.

*whimper*?

Sep. 13th, 2005 11:45 pm
sessifet: (Default)
There are no words

*whimper*?

Sep. 13th, 2005 11:45 pm
sessifet: (Default)
There are no words
sessifet: (Default)
This was surreal.

Phone rings.

Me: '[myname, firstandlast].'
Extremely absentminded lady: 'Hello, this is [foo] from [bar]. Is this Mrs. [bloke's last name]?'
Me: 'No, this is his girlfriend. I'm [first&lastname]'
EAL: 'Oh. Sorry. Is Mrs. [bloke's last name] there?'
...the fuck, lady? What kind of household do you think we're running?!
Me: 'There is no wife. Just me. I'm Mr. [bloke's last name]'s girlfriend.'
EAL: 'Yes, I heard that. But I need to speak to his wife. Could you put her on, please?'
Me: 'There is no wife.'
EAL: 'Are you sure?'
No, I killed her and fed her to the cats, happy now?

Finally, I get through to her. It then takes another 5 minutes to convince her that, no, I do not have Johan hidden away in a closet somewhere; he's at work, and she's welcome to phone back when he's home again. Repeat three times before this gets through.

EAL: 'Well, I need to speak to someone who's living there.'
Me: 'Er...I live here.'
EAL: 'Oh. Are you his wife?'
*whimper*
Me: 'No. We've been through this. There's no wife. Just me, and Mr. [bloke's last name]. I'm his girlfriend. We live together. This is our house.'
EAL: 'Ah...Maybe you can help me then?'
Yay, we're getting somewhere!
Me: 'Sure. What can I help you with?'
EAL: 'I need to speak to Mr. [bloke's last name].'
Oh, for fuck's sake...
Me: 'You know what, I think you should call back when Mr. [bloke's last name] is actually home. I'm expecting him around 6 o'clock. Goodbye.'
*click*

Fast forward 30 minutes...

Phone rings.

'[first&lastname]'
'Hello, this is [foo] from [bar]. Is Mr. [bloke's last name] there?'
Oh hell. It's the same lady
Me: 'No. Can I help you?'
EAL: 'Maybe you can. Do you live there?'
Jesus Christ, lady. What the fuck is your glitch?!
Me: 'Yes.'
EAL: 'Well, we from [bar] are doing a marketing research, and we want to know if you are happy with your mortgage payments?'
Me: 'We don't have a mortgage. We rent our place.'
EAL: 'Oh. Sorry to have bothered you then. Goodbye.'
*click*

It's 10.30, and already I've lost faith in humanity.
sessifet: (Default)
This was surreal.

Phone rings.

Me: '[myname, firstandlast].'
Extremely absentminded lady: 'Hello, this is [foo] from [bar]. Is this Mrs. [bloke's last name]?'
Me: 'No, this is his girlfriend. I'm [first&lastname]'
EAL: 'Oh. Sorry. Is Mrs. [bloke's last name] there?'
...the fuck, lady? What kind of household do you think we're running?!
Me: 'There is no wife. Just me. I'm Mr. [bloke's last name]'s girlfriend.'
EAL: 'Yes, I heard that. But I need to speak to his wife. Could you put her on, please?'
Me: 'There is no wife.'
EAL: 'Are you sure?'
No, I killed her and fed her to the cats, happy now?

Finally, I get through to her. It then takes another 5 minutes to convince her that, no, I do not have Johan hidden away in a closet somewhere; he's at work, and she's welcome to phone back when he's home again. Repeat three times before this gets through.

EAL: 'Well, I need to speak to someone who's living there.'
Me: 'Er...I live here.'
EAL: 'Oh. Are you his wife?'
*whimper*
Me: 'No. We've been through this. There's no wife. Just me, and Mr. [bloke's last name]. I'm his girlfriend. We live together. This is our house.'
EAL: 'Ah...Maybe you can help me then?'
Yay, we're getting somewhere!
Me: 'Sure. What can I help you with?'
EAL: 'I need to speak to Mr. [bloke's last name].'
Oh, for fuck's sake...
Me: 'You know what, I think you should call back when Mr. [bloke's last name] is actually home. I'm expecting him around 6 o'clock. Goodbye.'
*click*

Fast forward 30 minutes...

Phone rings.

'[first&lastname]'
'Hello, this is [foo] from [bar]. Is Mr. [bloke's last name] there?'
Oh hell. It's the same lady
Me: 'No. Can I help you?'
EAL: 'Maybe you can. Do you live there?'
Jesus Christ, lady. What the fuck is your glitch?!
Me: 'Yes.'
EAL: 'Well, we from [bar] are doing a marketing research, and we want to know if you are happy with your mortgage payments?'
Me: 'We don't have a mortgage. We rent our place.'
EAL: 'Oh. Sorry to have bothered you then. Goodbye.'
*click*

It's 10.30, and already I've lost faith in humanity.

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