A Voice from the Basement, part II of V.

[Triple Zero]

oh I am familiar this. Not only with mechanical engineering, the exact same thing happens in software engineering. Some ancient whizkid that built the first generation, some old library, he did a pretty good job at it too, and built it real quickly, and it worked. Except, of course, he built it his way. Whizkid leaves for some more serious IT job.

Next generation of developers don't know shit from shit and break it, or perhaps it just stopped working just like mechanical devices need maintenance. The current crew can't manage to ducttape-fix it after weeks of pain and sweat, so the mythical now-guru whizkid gets hired for a short-term premium expensive job. He knows his code, so the fix is easy. From this, the boss concludes that the guru is a magical genius, and nobody is supposed to touch it anymore.

(No wonder he left for a better assignment, which was probably a good decision).

I arrive when half of the nitwit developers are recycled, and what's left is this big heap of gunk that nobody is supposed to touch, because it'll break, even though a solid refactoring would save everybody many hours and headaches. By the time we get a green light to replace the code, the rest of the base is already grown all skewed in order to deal with the idiosyncracies of the magical bit.

I suppose it is possible, and I haven't the experience to rule it out entirely, but I've personally never seen such a situation turn out right again. The way of things, I suppose.

[Captain Utopia]

I used to work with a guy who said that when he started with IBM in the 60s the unofficial motto was: "Don't sweat it if you can't be part of the solution -- there's plenty of money to be made being part of the problem."

This has probably been going on ever since those in power started ignoring the advice of the subject-matter experts they hired.  While Pharaoh couldn't understand that doubling the size of the base would more than double the time and expense of the project, I'm guessing that the slave and quarry industries did not lobby against the construction of the pyramids.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

This has probably been going on ever since those in power started ignoring the advice of the subject-matter experts they hired.  While Pharaoh couldn't understand that doubling the size of the base would more than double the time and expense of the project, I'm guessing that the slave and quarry industries did not lobby against the construction of the pyramids.

This.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

So the plant lost its main power bus today.

Tribal lore says the main plant switching box is so old and decrepit that it isn't to be touched, ever.  It does in fact look awful...Corroded as hell, with about 30 years worth of failed rust inhibitor all over it (the geniuses that built this place located it in the worst of the acid atmosphere.

But, you know, the plant is down.  So the boss calls down from on high, and says, "Remember to leave that disconnect panel alone".

We trace the problem directly to that panel.

I have the guys suit up, and we ever-so-carefully take the panel faces off...And it's a blown fuse.  What's more, there's nothing wrong with the disconnect boxes.  Nothing.  These guys have been living in fear for at least 8 years, and there's nothing at all wrong with it.  It isn't new, but everything inside is perfectly functional.

So now the plant has power, my boss is happy (success outweighs obedience, here), and we learned something.

And all of you bastards need to learn something, too.  You know those guys in the basement?  The crude, misanthropic bastards who walk around in Dickey shirts with tools stuffed in their pockets?  The ones who keep everything running?

Leave us alone.  It's our basement, not yours.  You just take care of whatever it is you Eloi deal with, and you leave us Morlocks to handle things down here.  Leave us be, and the lights stay on, and water comes out of the tap when you want it.  Fuck with our game, and we'll come up at night and eat you.

Or Kill Me.

Bump in reference to the events of today.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

So the plant lost its main power bus today.

Tribal lore says the main plant switching box is so old and decrepit that it isn't to be touched, ever.  It does in fact look awful...Corroded as hell, with about 30 years worth of failed rust inhibitor all over it (the geniuses that built this place located it in the worst of the acid atmosphere.

But, you know, the plant is down.  So the boss calls down from on high, and says, "Remember to leave that disconnect panel alone".

We trace the problem directly to that panel.

I have the guys suit up, and we ever-so-carefully take the panel faces off...And it's a blown fuse.  What's more, there's nothing wrong with the disconnect boxes.  Nothing.  These guys have been living in fear for at least 8 years, and there's nothing at all wrong with it.  It isn't new, but everything inside is perfectly functional.

So now the plant has power, my boss is happy (success outweighs obedience, here), and we learned something.

And all of you bastards need to learn something, too.  You know those guys in the basement?  The crude, misanthropic bastards who walk around in Dickey shirts with tools stuffed in their pockets?  The ones who keep everything running?

Leave us alone.  It's our basement, not yours.  You just take care of whatever it is you Eloi deal with, and you leave us Morlocks to handle things down here.  Leave us be, and the lights stay on, and water comes out of the tap when you want it.  Fuck with our game, and we'll come up at night and eat you.

Or Kill Me.

Bump in reference to the events of today.

But... but...

LEAVE OPEN BAR ALONE!
                     \

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Well, no...I was talking about the wretched Eloi that infest our main office building.  They are full of amazing advice that has precisely nothing to do with the actual, physical problems at hand.

I will eat them all, one fine day.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

Well, no...I was talking about the wretched Eloi that infest our main office building.  They are full of amazing advice that has precisely nothing to do with the actual, physical problems at hand.

I will eat them all, one fine day.

Oh, those types.

Yeah.

Crunchy in milk!