The Dynamic Duo

Its been awhile since I’ve done a prison post, but that’s not for lack of material. There are things going on all the time out there, and I’m sure I only hear about the tip of the iceberg.
Today was actually one of acute frustration for me. I have been having computer problems all week, and today was the worst of all. As I have said before, I have a dumb terminal, and for some reason, lately I have been disconnected from the main frame more often than I have been up and running. All the Computer Help Desk people recognize my voice; they are nice enough, but sometimes not all that much help. The guru of the bunch seems to be Ernie. Suse, whom I talk to at the main Help Desk sometimes once told me that next to each computer tech’s name on the list is a description of his/her duties and areas of expertise. Next to Ernie’s name it says “Everything.”
Here is my usual fun routine of late. I turn my computer on. After 5-7 min it boots up and gives me a log-on screen. I work a little while, averaging 1-2 minutes response time per keystroke. Suddenly in the corner of the screen red numbers flash in an otherwise black screen. I am, once again, booted off the system. I call Ernie, Matt, and the Help Desk and leave messages. I call my boss Jackson, for good measure, and leave another. Sometimes I even get a call back. Ernie seems to be able to work some kind of voodoo magic and get me back up and running, at least for a few minutes when the whole thing starts over again. But Ernie leaves at 4:00 P.M. I work til 6, so if I crash after the 4 o’clock witching hour, I am dead in the water. Suse helpfully informed me the other day that someone at the main Help Desk is usually there until 5:30. That is lovely and all, but the Help Desk can’t help me.
Jackson had an idea: “Why don’t you come in earlier til this is resolved? Then you can get help if you need it.” Smashing idea; I decide to give it a try.
Today I was at my desk at 11:00 A.m., 2 hours before my normal start time. But today was different. Today I was only conncected three times for about 3 seconds per time. And Ernie seemed to have lost his magic reconnecting touch. “There is interference in your lines there somewhere,” he informed me. Start unpluggin things, like the AC, one at a time and see if it makes a difference. Also, have you cleaned back of your computer? Made any changes to the lines?” No, I hadn’t cleaned back of the computer. I’d been afraid to touch that jumble of wires and cords; afraid to upset the tenuous thread that made my ancient computer work, sometimes. But I remembered that Zeek, an electrical wizard of an inmate had run some lines in for me one day. As I understood it, it was a dedicated line for my computer so if a power outage occurred I would stay running. Zeek came in and looked things over. “You aren’t using my line yet,” he informed me, “but what is all of this blue wire? It is Cat5! You can’t use Cat5 unless you run it through a conduit! Any bend (demonstrating) or break will disrupt you. I’ll get the officer to get some regular phone line, and we’ll run that in directly from the phone wire room.” Zeek leaves to talk to the officer.
“Oswald knows a lot about computers, Miss Kathy,” my clerk informed me. “Want me to get him?” Why not.
Oswald looked around. “This Cat5 wire is not even being used. You are running on an old beehive system. This is so old; I’ve never actually seem anything like this before.” Four bare wires sticking out of color-coded coating are attached to little screw-looking things in an open white box. A jumble of other wires of various hues is wrapped around the bundle. As Oswald examines this set-up, one of the brittle wires breaks off in his hand. Now we have no choice. Wire cutters and strippers are brought in and he proceeds the process of cutting, stripping and reconnecting. But it seems that the wires must be reconnected in some definite order, mainly the way they were before. Oswald does not know how that was.
Another call to Ernie. “Look in the phone line closet. Look for BRG99843SW box. That is the other end of your terminal. Your wires should connect the same way.” My wires are something like blue, orange, white-blue and white-orange. The ones in the closet are red, green black and yellow. Someone remembers they are spliced somewhere underneath the building.
Enter Rampole, a scrappy 23-yr old who has spent most of his latter teens-early 20s in prison, and who is a self-proclaimed computer expert. Rampole is the one who ran in the blue Cat5 line with an ethernet connector on the end, but my computer can’t use it. Word has it that Rampole has been telling other inmates I don’t know how to do my job because the computer is down all the time. (Also, there was a little incident where we made an ordering error, and brought in fat-free refried beans instead of the full-fat, jalapeno flavored ones we usually carry. For some reason, inmates were complaining when we made them take the fat-free ones. Go figure.) Rampole takes over the reattaching wire job, and is able to elicit probable reconnecting schemes from Oswald. Zeek is also back in to troubleshoot, and my clerks and I stand by for moral support and to keep an eye on the contents of the store. Rampole is successful, meaning we are once again in tenuous contact with the mainframe, but my computer will still not come back on. Whenever I leave the store, inmates look daggers at me when I shake my head no, no store today. They have been told, and maybe even believe, it is not my fault, but that doesn’t change the fact that they are unable to buy soap, toothpaste, sodas, ice cream and Monster Honey Buns. At least many of the crews are out on fires, so I only half the camp is mad at me for now.
Ernie says he will call the local phone company and have them come out and check lines. But he never calls me back to tell me when they might be coming. Travis, my new Native Amercian clerk has a raging toothache; probably an infection in his sinus cavity, or so his swollen face seems to indicate. I tell him to go lay down. Ricky and I, choosing to optomistically believe that we may, some day, be able to sell our merchandise again, place some vendor-orders. Then I go home, having worked an hour of overtime, with no work to show for it.
Someday, all of the camps will run off the new satellite system, and we will be in the land of dreams and rainbows (to borrow one of Johnny’s favorite expressions). Someday I won’t have to call the Help Desk and be so chummy with Ernie six or more times a day. Someday. But for now, I”ll keep slogging along in beehive land.

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