My Magic 8 Ball Head
by KathyF on March 16, 2008 

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The following is a guest post from one of my favorite bloggers, the witty KathyF. Check her out at The Junk Drawer.

The last time I looked, I had a head with a face on it. But to those who have a computer question, that round thing on my shoulders is a Magic 8 Ball and when you shake it, an answer comes out.

Such is my life in tech support. In my former life as a person without all the answers…

I could use a restroom without being asked how to disinfect a computer virus on the PC owned by a person not in front of their computer with their pants on, but one doing pants-down things in the neighboring stall. Sure, write this down. Oh, you don’t have a pen in there? How silly of me.

I could attend a social event at work without being approached by a client who spots me daring to have fun and asks if I can transfer all their VHS tapes to DVD, even though it has nothing to do with their work and how very bold of you to ask for those services for free and, oh yeah, this is a social event.

I could shop at a grocery store without running into someone outside of work who thinks I’m still on the clock, even though I’m clearly busy deciding whether the super strength of Charmin Ultra Strong is a better option than the delicate tenderness of Ultra Soft, and care to help me pick one while I answer your question?

I could remain unknown to the friend of a friend of a family member who heard that I’m in tech support. Or the kid of a co-worker who got a computer virus. Or the parents of someone I used to work with. Or a co-worker’s husband whose business doesn’t have in-house tech support. To everyone who I don’t work for, I have two words for you: Geek Squad.

I could be shielded from questions that start with “I know you don’t support this, but…” Translated, that means “I chose to ignore what you said and hope you’ll have pity on me, even though I know you can’t possibly know all the inner workings of random software applications we insist on using. I hoped what you meant was that if I kept pestering, you would break down and support it anyway. So can I ask you a question?”

I could eat lunch at my desk without being interrupted by someone who doesn’t know that lunch, according to Webster’s dictionary, means “to eat lunch.” If I thought it would help to explain that I take a lunch break at lunch to eat lunch and do nothing but enjoy lunch at lunch, I would. But that only prolongs the conversation until my meal turns into a cold, hard remnant of its former piping-hot self.

So what’s the lesson here? If you want to shake my Magic 8 Ball head, do so at your own risk. If I’m not in my office, or not on the clock, or I don’t work for you, my head might explode. And for the record, an exploded head is unable to answer your questions.

Humor-blogs should ask again later.