July 26th, 2007

generic lament

Support Ticket #11578: The Adventure of the Muddled Mail

Copied unedited from our tech support queue. I love my job. -B

It was a singularly warm day in the foothills; July sunshine had chased the weekend's unseasonal clouds away, and neither fan nor air conditioner could reduce the dry heat that always put me in a mind of Afghanistan. Perspiring under my summer cottons, I trudged into the upstairs office at 416B Baker Street, to be greeted by an all-too-familiar tuneless scraping upon a violin.

"Holmes," I cried with some exasperation, "Will that infernal racket never cease to entertain you in your idle moments?"

"Idle? Come, Watson," Sureclaw Holmes replied reproachfully, clicking "pause" on the YouTube video of the unfortunately talentless music student. "You cannot tell me that you are so unobservant as to have not deduced the pattern behind my musical habits by now."

"But of course," I replied, dabbing the sweat from my brow and glancing at my pocket-watch. "It indicates that you are deep in thought over some baffling case of grave import. I would wager pf on nccn3 is continuing its vexatious ways."

"Ah, Watson," he replied with a twinkle in his eye. "You would do well to rely upon the evidence of your senses over such trifling hunches! For upon my screen you observe no InterMapper console, nor any terminal windows but one! How then could one of our servers be having issues? No, the case that has my mind so engaged -- like all of the best adventures we've shared -- is one of trifling importance, one I perhaps should not even be dealing with on tech support time, and yet one that drove one of our customers so to madness that he should seek out professional assistance."

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