Ted E. rides again

Oh, Ted E., you weasel ... there's been some database corruption and I can hear him, over in the corner talking to the database developer, telling her how "other people" (and he helpfully goes on to identify me specifically) use the database tables to search for and extract data that isn't accessible through the default reports are available (or, as he puts it, I "go in and change the design of the database").

"But I only ever use the reports you've given us, because I know that it's dangerous to look at the tables."

Yes, Ted E., data can be corrupted simply by looking at it. I'll be sure to keep that in mind the next time you ask me to find information for you that isn't available to you through the safe reports.

Fortunately, the database developer actually understands her work and, moreover, recognises when Ted E. is simply trying to pre-emptively pass blame on to someone else when it isn't even clear that there's anything to blame anyone for in the first place.

The horror... the horror

It's taken me a while, but I've finally realised what my job here is. It's to fix up the things so broken and horrible that the people who actually have the information that would let them make sense of it all, don't want anything to do with it. Without, naturally, the benefit of knowing any of the things they know about the matter at hand...

It seems so obvious in hindsight, but it's taken three different tasks arriving at the same time to make me see it in that light.

From Russia, with Love?

I could try to summarise the last few months: the dramas with a workmate I shall henceforth dub The Stress Fiend, the ongoing joy of working with Ted E., strange things suppliers do that they think are helpful (a tip - if you've got a Hawaiian shirt, try hanging around random loading bays and see how much free stuff you can score), and numerous other hijinx associated with life in a poorly-funded organisation with neglected infrastructure, eccentric hiring practices, and a fondness for inventing problems before they happen while not worrying about addressing real problems before they bite...

But that's a lot of effort. So instead I'll ease back into things by making fun of the spam I've received lately.

Alena from Russia writes in "Surprise from Russia":

I am from Russia. I am 30 years. Recently I with girlfriend have climbed in the Internet and have seen this site.

Presumably climbing the internet is how people describe web-surfing in countries where it's too cold to actually surf. In fact the cold air would also explain certain aspects of the photos Alena attached to her email. Alternatively people find this site much more stimulating than I could have imagined, which makes me wonder if I should tone down my writing style somewhat.

I was on different sites, but it has liked me also I has decided to write.

Alena can has chezburger?

Ekaterina, also from Russia, writes in "I think you'll like it!":

Hello!!! My name is Ekaterina, I a 25 years old. I live in country Russia , in Chistopol city.

Never heard of Chistopol? Neither had I, but I looked it up, it's real (who says spam can't be educational?), and I can understand why Ekaterina would want to get out of there. Ekaterina has never contacted me again, so presumably these pictures of Vladimir Putin have convinced her that she needn't look abroad to find true love after all.

The Lonely Woman from Russia Anna (I kid you not, that's how she refers to herself throughout) writes in an email of the same name:

I understand that you now are surprised that to you this letter has come.

Not as surprised as I might have been if Alena and Ekaterina hadn't beaten you to the punch. These days I'm surprised when I don't get emails from Russia with love (or, at least, negotiable affection). Interestingly, Anna tells me that in Russia there are 30,000,000 women living without men. Considering that's several million more women than there are people living in Australia, that's a difficult number to conceptualise. Frankly, I'm not sure why Russia just doesn't clone Vladimir 30,000,000 times and be done with it.

Alina, also from - surprise - Russia, writes to me with "Let's have communication", although the tone of her email makes me wonder whether "communication" isn't a euphemism:

I want to get acquainted with you. I will be very glad if we will have fine dialogue ... If you wish to have dialogue with me then write to me and I shall be glad to have dialogue with you.

And, I have to admit, I was almost tempted, because who doesn't mind a good bit of dialogue now and then? But in the photos she attached (sitting at a table in a restaurant), it looks like Jack Bauer sitting at a table behind her and I don't believe in that kind of coincidence, especially given that Bauer now operates with the blessing of at least one member of the American Supreme Court. Who wants to take that kind of risk?

Meanwhile, in the attention-getting stakes:

The curiously-named u66daji fights it out with ashorty but, as attention-grabbers go, his exhortation that I should "type to clank flatulence" really isn't an incentive to open his/her message, and even after doing so I'm not quite sure what he/she was trying to sell me. ashorty's more aggressive approach ("So listen lapdog!") is, frankly, taking the hard sell to ridiculous extremes and was equally incoherent.