When the asset tag is hidden under an arcade machine • The Registry
Episode 17 It is barely 9 a.m. and we are all standing outside as firefighters inspect the area for the source of the blaze.
A fire which, in all likelihood, never took place.
“What was that?” asks the Boss, no doubt fearing the discovery of the charred remains of a Beancounter in a cupboard somewhere on the third or fourth floor.
“No idea,” I said, “but the fire was on our floor apparently.”
“It will be a toaster,” opines the PFY.
âMore likely a sandwich press,â I reply.
“What are you talking about?” asks the boss.
“What caused the fire. It will be a toaster or a sandwich press …” replied the PFY.
“OR”, I interrupt, “maybe there is a new kind of cook that just makes organic, vegan, gluten-free buns.”
âFor CrossFit people,â adds the PFY, completing the virtue signaling quadfecta.
âI’m not with you,â the Boss said. “Surely it was a piece of equipment that caught fire?” “
“No, that doesn’t happen a lot anymore,” I said. âBack then you saw smoke from a paper jam in the fuser unit of a laser printer or perhaps carpet burns caused by a power cable being crushed too often by a wheelchair. , but the kit is pretty sturdy now. catches fire, it usually does so early in the morning when it is first turned on or later in the afternoon when it has been running for too long – but not in the middle of the morning.
“This is the time of day when people who like to run to work eat their toasted bagels after shower with nut butter and ethically produced outdoor honey.”
“Followed by an espresso on the stove cooked on a camping stove … It’s the camping stove!” Said the PFY.
At the end of the day, we were both wrong, but at least we’ve got the correct genre. A “YouTube content creator” from the Colored Pencils Office was giving his colleagues a hands-on demonstration of how to roast coffee beans in a popcorn machine – a process that emits about the same amount of smoke as ‘a dumpster fire.
And the rest is history.
The boss is not happy because he was in the middle of a conference call and did not have the technical means to find the link and continue the call on his mobile.
An edict comes from above about unapproved electrical appliances in the building, which are never going to be okay. About one in five offices has a pod coffee maker of some description that the owner cherishes more than any member of the family, and the number of illicit heaters in winter is truly staggering.
In situations like this, there’s always some steaming shit in the office that’s ready and willing to float to the top of the pond and volunteer for the home appliance generalist position – given the mind-boggling amount of power to seek out and grasp that the role has to offer. In our case, it’s Steve, a guy in the colored pencil office with a solid reputation for work avoidance.
It doesn’t take long for her to make her way to Mission Control – no doubt smelling fruit hanging in an office crammed with electrical equipment.
“So none of this is personal?” he asks.
âNo, all the equipment in the company,â I answer, my hand on my heart.
“So that espresso machine?” “
âThe ESPRESSO machine is the property of the company,â I nod.
“So why is he here and not in the main office?” he asks.
“These are the long hours that we work”, lies the PFY. “When you spend a sleepless night retrieving hysteresis data from the redundant database shadow log, you won’t want to pause log buffer rewriting just so you can get to Soho for a ristretto.”
“I … see. But what about this huge home theater system,” he stresses.
“It’s a huge system monitoring interface.”
“He has a … 1500 watt amplifier!” Steve counters.
“So we can hear system alerts without being drowned out by office noise.”
“There are two electric armchairs and a small fridge in front!”
âWe have to sit somewhere when we monitor the systems! I blurt out. âWe can’t stay up all day!
“What about that?” he asks. âIs it a corporate device? “
He gestures towards the Defender arcade machine the PFY bought several years ago, played twice and then lost interest after passing out in the middle of a game.
“Yes”, lies the PFY. “It’s from the cafeteria. It … uh … broke down a few years ago and I … offered to fix it. I’m waiting for parts, but you know, with COVID and them. supply chains and everything. “
âI don’t think it’s a corporate device. In fact, I don’t think all I asked for was a corporate device – and I’m willing to bet that if I ‘asked the finance department about it, they said none of this stuff is even on the asset register! “
“And that’s where you’re wrong,” said the PFY triumphantly, standing up and pointing to the lower corner of the arcade machine. “Here is a real corporate asset tag.”
“Or?” Steve asks, bending down to inspect the aforementioned tag.
“All the way down,” points out the PFY again.
“I do not see…”
âHey, look at this! says the PFY, as the machine turns on. “It had to be just the thermal cutout!”
âSpeaking of thermal,â I said, âcan you smell the smoke?â
“As it is,” said the PFY, watching a gray wick make its way from Steve’s location under the machine.
“That’s right – better put an asset tag on it before the alarms go off then. I’m sure we’ll lose the records in the fire, however …” Â®