I seem to write only about my crummy job lately.
Not to belabor such an admittedly unimportant issue, but this happened today at work and I am still scratching my head over it.
I was walking by an office, and a member of our highly paid, friendly and knowledgable sales staff – let’s call him “Albert,” shall we? – was sitting in there and staring at a blank computer screen. He wasnâ€™t meditating. He just didnâ€™t know how to log in. I see this as a good thing, because once they get logged in the trouble starts.
Sensing me near his door, he called my name, not taking his eyes off the screen. I thought about acting like I hadnâ€™t heard him and just strolling on past, but it was early in the week and I was still filled with good will from taking Monday off, so I went in.
â€œWhatâ€™s up, Albert?â€
â€œHey Larry. Iâ€™m trying to [use the computer to perform a function that is against state and federal law as well as company policy, and which could violate my customerâ€™s privacy and compromise his financial information and leave him open to possible identity theft], but I canâ€™t figure out how to get this computer working. Can you help me?” Those were not his exact words, but that’s what he was trying to do.
“Sure, Albert. I know your manager’s password. Let me just log you in. And… there you go. All set.”
“Thanks, Larry. We’d never get anything done around here without you.”
“No problem, Albert. Have a good time.”
I walked on, musing that Albert will probably remain logged on to that computer until the next power failure.