Because I worked night-shift looking after a mainframe and a UNIX system, our glorious leader decided that our section would be ideal for offering overnight PC helldesk and tech support to every muppet on the airfield who had a PC. So my mid-shift naps were interrupted by a series of idiot-calls from the Air Force's finest on a routine basis.
Picture a winter's eve. The runway is closed to to bad weather. The snow is coming down and settling heavily. It is now 4am.
The phone rings.
His monitor doesn't work. The light on the front isn't on.
"Is it plugged in and switched on?"
*suspicious lack of any pause to check this before replying*
"Yes, of course."
I offer to wander up to his office to take a look, and he now reveals that he is sat in a building over the other side of the runway. It's either a ten minute walk in the snow, or a nine-minute job of defrosting a vehicle and two minutes of driving over there.
"Are you really sure that it's plugged in and switched on"
"Ok then. I'll be over in fifteen minutes. I'm going to bring a screwdriver and a hammer. If it's broken, I will use the screwdriver to fix it. If it's not switched on at the wall, I will use the hammer to hit you. Now: Is... it... switched... on... and... plugged... in?"
*actual sounds of rummaging*
"Oh... it's working all of a sudden..."
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