Timestamped chaos from a corporate support desk.
19 Feb 2026 – 15:32
“Can you organise the Christmas meal?”
It’s March.
13 people.
13 different diary requirements.
4 different preferred locations.
2 dietary ultimatums.
1 “I don’t really do Christmas.”
I send availability poll.
Replies trickle in.
Then stop.
Budget gets mentioned.
Budget drops.
New restaurant suggestions appear.
Cheaper ones.
Further ones.
“Do they do vegan gluten-free but festive?”
Five people drop out.
It’s now a slightly awkward dinner in March.
Not Christmas.
Not optional.
Not within budget.
I work in IT.
Today I am Santa with a spreadsheet.
18 Feb 2026 – 13:47
Sent to site to “tidy up the network cab.”
Colleague: “The camera isn’t working.”
Me: “Is it plugged in?”
Colleague: “Don’t know.”
Good start.
I trace the cable.
Under a desk.
Behind a cabinet.
Through a nest of forgotten infrastructure.
Found it.
Not plugged in.
I plug it in.
It works.
No firmware issue.
No network fault.
No mysterious configuration drift.
Gravity.
And a loose cable.
I am not IT support.
I am electricity with legs.
17 Feb 2026 – 11:08
CEO comes down.
“Can you help move the Director to a new location?”
Of course.
The Director doesn’t want to move desks.
I send an email.
Clear.
Polite.
Practical.
Silence.
Time passes.
I find him.
Barker.
“I’ll reply to the email when I get time.”
The move is blocked.
The CEO is waiting.
The desk remains.
Infrastructure depends on one inbox.
I walk back upstairs.
Waiting for permission
to move furniture.
16 Feb 2026 – 09:12
Manager: “How did that router fault happen over the weekend?”
Me: “I was going to bring it up in the huddle — that’s when we usually go through weekend incidents.”
My Teams rings.
I answer.
Volume: 100%.
“Don’t you dare fucking talk to me like that.”
Like what?
Like structured?
Like calm?
Like not panicking?
The router went down.
It came back up.
No data lost.
No fire.
No apocalypse.
But tone?
Tone is the real outage.
I mute myself.
Not the mic.
Myself.