Group
Efforts
The
Diary of a Workgroup Manager
Episode 44 (1998)
The girls get bored, Amrat gets the flak, our hero gets the message but
Llewellyn gets it first.
Thursday 8th
'Tis the bleak midwinter and our slackest time of year, with not enough work to go round. Least bothered by this are Danny, who's happy playing Formula One Manager all day, and Cathy, who's deep in preparation for a Decision Skills course. Rose and June, in contrast, spend most of the day complaining of boredom and the effect no overtime is having on their post-Christmas finances. Colin Smiles, meanwhile, is touring the building offering training opportunities to under-employed staff, but is getting few takers since a rumour started that he's really doing a secret redundancy candidate audit. The rumour that's worrying me, however, is of another NT Server Offensive from I.T., with us as target number one. Ordering everyone to look as busy as possible, I prepare to dig in.
Wednesday 14th
As expected, Llewellyn emails me to say that now is an ideal time to "upgrade" us to an NT server. I reply that we're far too busy to be disrupted, and he replies that we're not, and that he can prove it as he's been monitoring our server utilisation remotely and it's below 15 percent. Aghast at this invasion of our privacy, I email the B2's Bill to see if he can fix Llewellyn's remote monitor, and get a reply from Llewellyn saying no he can't. Even more aghast at this violation of the Sanctity of Mail, I send another email to Bill telling Llewellyn to keep his nose out, and that Costello's going to hear about this. The game, it seems, is hardball, and I'm on the attack.
Thursday 22nd
The Republic of Planning is officially at war with I.T. , our position being that until we get a full apology for Llewellyn's email snooping, none of his troops are allowed near the department. The massed ranks of Userdom are behind us, with Andy banning I.T. from the Contracts office as a gesture of solidarity, and Pam Stones from Sales expressing her disapproval by refusing Amrat one of her fruit bonbons. Llewllyn, meanwhile, is refusing to discuss the matter until Costello returns from what appears to be an extended Hogmanay celebration at Smithsons. In the corridor Amrat says that Solvents Stores are withholding their subscriptions to his lottery syndicate, and complains that none of this is his fault. I commiserate, and tell him he can't come in. In war the first casualties are so often the innocent.
Tuesday 27th
The management meeting, with 'email privacy' top of the agenda. Llewellyn tries to claim that it was just a one-off joke, a view which Costello seems keen to encourage until George points out that the directors' mail goes through the same server as ours, allowing Llewellyn to snoop on them too. Andy then rubs it in by speculating on the Old Man's reaction to having his messages electronically steamed open, the general consensus being a Force 11 and senior heads in the basket. Smiling no more, Costello tells Llewellyn to hand the administrator password to him straight after the meeting, and to come and see him later. Lunchtime odds are 3/1 on a written warning, with the full red card a distant, but tantalising, 10/1 against.
Friday 30th
An extraordinary management meeting, in both senses of the word. First Llewellyn apologises for 'overstepping the mark' by reading other people's mail, a public humiliation which Andy later claims was offered to him as the alternative to instant dismissal. Then Costello announces that the B2s will be restructuring mail administration privileges and installing encryption, giving a cast-iron privacy guarantee to all users. Post-match analysis rates this a 10-0 defeat for the Forces of Darkness, and I head happily back to the Ranch, where I mail Llewellyn advising him that, with the delay in implementation and things now beginning to pick up, we're no longer able to cope with the disruption of a server upgrade. Winter is still upon us, but as I head for the car park I sense a slight, but quite definite, hint of Spring.
Text © Paul
Stephens 1998
Illustration © Sholto Walker 1996