that was the weekend that was (part 2)

30 January, 2006

‘Saturday, what a day…’

The day starts well. We buy groceries, delicious white nectarines. We go home. I clean bathrooms. It rains. All normal. Then I get paged (for a change), but it’s a simple job, of re-starting a couple of interfaces. We have some lunch, my good wife has a lie down, and I wander out onto the back patio to survey my estate. Which is where I heard the gurgling.

Further inspection revealed a yabbie hole spewing water at an alarming rate. Being the Quick Thinking Captain that I am, I rushed up the driveway, to hear the furious click-clicking of the water meter as it gleefully counted my lost litres. The tap was off in an instant. After a brief inspection, and a hurried trip down to the hardware store (about 30 seconds before closing time), we discovered that the point of the leak was a completely rusted pipe under the ground. We had no wrench or spanner large enough to tackle the pipes, so we did as all moderm Thrity-Somethings do: we called our parents. My folks were there in an instant, with my Grandad’s old Carrington monkey wrench and the amazing 3/4 inch threaded plug.

It was at this stage that I also received another call from work. A problem with our automated line, which the supporting company (let’s call them XYZ) claimed was our fault, not theirs. So I took a break from prodding the pipes with my foot and dialled in. I checked everything, restarted a server and a bunch of interfaces, and the problem persisted. I reported back to the person who called me, and they promised to follow it up with company XYZ. I went back outside, to discover that we really needed a hacksaw, which we didn’t have. I also discovered we were going to go and crash at my folk’s house, eat pizza, and deal with it in the morning.

Skip forward a few hours, we’re eating pizza with my folks, and my BrotherMine and his darling wife, who had just returned from an 8 week jaunt around Canada. The pager goes off again. Funnily enough, our dear friends at XYZ are still denying responsibility, so I skip to the last resort. I call my boss on his weekend off, and he gets me to dial in, and manually go through our communications log, searching the ping and acks for the one last thing that could be ‘our fault’ – a dodgy character in a name. And no, there were none, but I did manage to miss out on a good chunk of the ‘what we did in Canada’ conversation. One last call back to the lab before I fell asleep, just to let them know that there was no freaking way it was at my end.

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