“What’s broke now?” he mumbled into the phone as he tried to open his sleep encrusted eye lids. Even without his glasses he could make out the blur of the neon numbers on the clock. It was 2:13 in the morning.
“The mail server is down,” came the squeaky voice of Peter, the pimply-faced new kid they hired for the graveyard shift in the NOC .
“You mean to tell me that there’s no one on shift that can reboot the fucking mail server? I wrote down the Goddamn procedure in the server manual 2 weeks ago!” The annoyance in his voice probably sliced Peter’s ear off, which is what he wanted to do at this point.
“Umm. John told me to call you,” came the reply in a decidedly apologetic, quivering voice.
John. What a piece of work he was. To say he was dumb would be generous description. The guy would have trouble using a water cooler. The only reason he had a job was his father was a vice president in the company.
“Look, Pete. I know you’re new and all but get that manual out, read the procedure and reboot the server.”