This chapter is somewhat focused on a regular work day for somebody working in my usual job and can be skimmed or skipped without much loss. You should probably read the bit about lunchtime in the middle.
Firing up Slack, I send my morning greeting to the team. As everybody logs in one-by-one, I swap channels from the Sydney team channel to the global channel as I wait for today’s ticket router to start handover.
The Zoom link for handover pops up and I start the call. A few seconds pass and the router shares their screen, and starts going through the tickets for handover. A couple of database servers down, needing attention. One of the app servers on the cloud is running with high I/O CPU for some reason – probably an iSCSI link failure of some sort. One customer requesting a restore of their data from a couple of months ago. ElasticSearch is running with unassigned nodes AGAIN….
Looks like a pretty standard day ahead of us.
The US shift logs off the call as the shift manager, Bob, quickly goes over a few developments being highlighted for the global team. Some compulsory training we need to make sure is done, a survey from the Town Hall overview a couple of weeks ago…
The usual, really.
He asks the usual “How is everyone?” and I carefully avoid answering. With a dozen people on the team, the question is more a courtesy than anything else.
The Zoom call finished and I start work on my tickets.
For now I have to focus on the dead database server. This was on legacy infrastructure and the server didn’t have a mirror in place, so we need to get the restore done ASAP…
Dammit.
Typing with these claws is a pain. The chiclets on a standard Macbook keyboard are not conducive to easy typing. I find myself with two options – keep my fingers as flat as possible, or tap with the tips of my claws.
I’m seriously tempted to grab a pair of nail clippers and just snip the tips off, but something in me revolts at the thought. Whether or not the feeling is rational, the idea feels like self-mutilation.
Keeping my hands flat to the keyboard is horribly uncomfortable, so for now I use the tips of my claws to type. Later I need to get another keyboard…
Looks like today is a late lunch. Our lunch hours are staggered to ensure we didn’t have a gap in coverage. For now, I have an hour to work with.
I quickly google for information on self-measurement of female underwear and bra sizes. It turns out that there are like… five different ways they’re measured. Australia, Europe, America, France, Italy…
I’m in Australia. Anything I order locally will use Australian sizes.
I don’t have a fabric tape measure, so I pull out a ball of string and mark off lengths for underboob, breasts, hips… one day I need to get this redone by a professional. That could get awkward.
Having figured out the right numbers, I check online and order a few sets of underwear for delivery tomorrow. I add a couple more pairs of panties in slightly larger sizes; I’m not sure how the tail is going to screw this up. Not sure if I need a bra at my current size, but I’d rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it. Then I order a couple of shirts in smaller sizes, and, in blushing embarrassment, a long skirt. That will give me something to hide the tail.
And a hat. I need something large and floppy to hide my ears. Later I might need to check a couple of cosplay specialty stores to see what they have to cope with the tail and ears. For now, some sort of beanie and a Akubra or facsimile thereof.
I add a couple of hoodies in what looks like the right size, one navy blue and the other off-white.
Lunchtime is almost over, and I still haven’t eaten.
With some trepidation, I quickly check a home delivery app and find a Japanese restaurant. They have a fried tofu dish in fish sauce… my mouth starts watering. No time to eat it now and it’s looking like a busy afternoon so I can’t squeeze anything in between tickets, so I order the food for delivery at five thirty.
Just before lunch finishes, there’s a buzz from downstairs; a delivery. I’m not expecting anything at the moment. I ask the delivery person to leave the package on the bench next to the lift on the ground floor. I’ll pick it up later.
Then it’s back to work.
Lunch is done, and I’m back to working my ticket queue. High wait events on a database turn out to be due to a fault in a customer script; I kick it over to the Tech Support team to contact the customer and ask them to Please Not Do That.
Then a node on one of the database clusters crashes and manages to break redundancy and take a customer database with it. We need to fix the server ASAP; it’s up and running but the database has corrupt objects we need to fix, and the DBA – Database Administrator – team lacks the access they need for this box.
Which makes it our job, with some gentle guidance from one of the DBAs.
We have customer downtime, which means CSI also need to stick an oar in and track the progress of events. Which means another Zoom call to coordinate the fix. I’m assigned.
If I were the swearing type, I would swear. Swearing is a Aussie as meat pies and Bondi Beach, but it’s not a habit I’ve ever really acquired.
I join the call, log into the failed node, and share my screen, then ask DBA what they need me to do.
There’s a moment of silence on the call.
“Reggie?” They know my voice, my old voice; heck, we spoke at the last company barbecue. This is not the voice they were expecting to hear; I understand the confusion.
I cough and lower my voice. “Sorry, my voice is a bit off today. Let’s just get moving.”
Half an hour later, the corrupt tables have been preened and cluster services restarted; the node is running a bit high on CPU, but that just seems to be startup overhead.
I gruffly thank everybody and promise a writeup to CSI.
Half an hour later, I’ve prepped my tickets for handover and am halfway through the writeup for CSI. As the European shift takes over, I again try to keep my voice low as I go over the pending issues I had which haven’t yet been resolved.
I’m really going to have to figure out what to do about my voice.
Handover complete, I freeze up for a moment. Food delivery in fifteen minutes; the delivery app tells me the driver is already picking up the food.
And, in the absence of the clothes I ordered online —
I don’t have a thing to wear!