There’s a certain excitement that comes with starting a new job—especially in IT. You think, Alright, new desk, fresh start, let’s fix some computers and make magic happen! That’s exactly how Chris felt as he walked into his new office on his first day as the IT specialist for Thompson & Co. His coffee in hand, a few new gadgets stashed in his bag, he was ready to tackle any tech challenge that came his way.
But, of course, every new job has its quirks. For Chris, the quirks started immediately.
He walked into the IT room, expecting to find the usual setup: a pile of cables, maybe a few half-fixed computers, and—most importantly—notes. Chris wasn’t just expecting a few sticky notes either; he was hoping for at least some onboarding files, a cheat sheet, maybe even a desk manual with “TOP SECRET: READ ME” stamped on the cover.
Instead, he found nothing. Nada. Zilch. The room was so clean it looked like it had been scrubbed by someone trying to erase all traces of the previous IT guy’s existence.
“Alright, no big deal,” he thought, dropping his bag by his desk and firing up his computer. “I’ll just look through the digital files and find what I need. There’s always something in the server, right?”
But as he logged in and started navigating through the company’s folders, it became clear that there wasn’t a single file left behind by the previous IT guy, Jack. No onboarding documents, no troubleshooting logs, no helpful guide to “How to Survive in This Office as IT.” It was like Jack had vanished, taking his vast knowledge of the company’s tech skeleton with him.
As Chris stared at the empty folders, he couldn’t shake a sense of foreboding. Surely, he thought, the staff will know what they need. I mean, I can just ask them for a rundown. How bad could it be?
Welcome to the Thompson & Co. Tech Jungle
Barely 15 minutes into his first day, Chris’s phone buzzed with his first ticket. It was marked “URGENT!” in bright red letters. The caller? A guy named Bob in sales.
Chris picked up, trying to sound cheerful. “Hi, this is Chris in IT, how can I help?”
“Hey, man! Wi-Fi isn’t working. I’ve got a client presentation to finish, and I can’t get on the network. This is an emergency.”
Chris nodded, although Bob couldn’t see it. “No problem. Let me check the network status.”
A quick scan of the system told him everything was fine. The Wi-Fi was up and running smoothly, with zero issues showing on any dashboard.
“Looks good on my end,” Chris said. “Are you connected to the ‘CompanySecure’ network?”
There was a pause on the other end, followed by a muttered, “Company what?”
“‘CompanySecure,’” Chris repeated. “That’s the main Wi-Fi network for the office. You’ll need to connect to that one for access.”
“Oh… I was trying to get on ‘WiFi4Free.’”
Chris blinked. WiFi4Free? That was clearly the signal from the coffee shop across the street. Is this guy serious?
“Uh, yeah, ‘WiFi4Free’ isn’t ours,” Chris replied, struggling to keep a straight face. “Try connecting to ‘CompanySecure’ with your usual login credentials.”
Bob’s relief was palpable. “Ah! Got it. Thanks, Chris. You’re a lifesaver!”
Chris hung up, feeling a mixture of pride and confusion. Was this the sort of thing Jack dealt with every day? It was barely 9:00 AM, and he was already solving “emergencies” that barely qualified as technical issues. Maybe Jack had left in such a hurry because he knew something Chris didn’t.
Where Are the Notes?
The day continued with a series of small, strange tech issues, and Chris found himself more and more frustrated with the lack of notes or guidelines left by Jack. Every question seemed to lead to another mystery, each ticket piling up with no map or guide to steer him in the right direction. He began asking coworkers for any trace of “Jack’s notes”—perhaps a shared file or even a dusty paper binder no one had noticed—but all he got were cryptic comments like:
“Oh, Jack always handled things magically. Didn’t even need notes!”
Or worse: “Jack never left notes. He said they weren’t necessary!”
It was as if Jack had achieved some IT guru status, a legend who operated on instinct alone and left nothing behind but vague memories of miraculous printer fixes and Wi-Fi revivals. Chris was quickly realizing that, in the world of office IT, having no notes was the equivalent of navigating a minefield without a map.
A Lesson from the IT Gods?
By lunchtime, Chris’s nerves were starting to fray. He had survived a morning of quirky calls, from printers refusing to connect to people who had “lost all their files” (spoiler: they had only minimized their windows). Each time, he solved the problem, but each time, he thought, Wouldn’t this be easier if I had just one note, one single “hey, watch out for Bob and Wi-Fi4Free” type of heads-up?
At this point, he couldn’t help but laugh. Was this the grand initiation into the life of IT at Thompson & Co.? Some sort of unspoken rite of passage? Perhaps Jack had left him nothing on purpose, as if to say, You’re on your own, kid. Make of it what you will.
So, Chris did what any IT professional in his shoes would do: he began taking notes. He wrote down every peculiar habit of each employee, every rogue network name, every printer hiccup, and every trick for dealing with Bob, Karen, Steve, and the rest of the office. He may have been left in the dark, but by the end of the day, he’d have his own survival guide.
And as Chris sat at his desk, armed with a notebook of new discoveries and a strong resolve, he felt a strange sense of pride. Jack may have been a tech wizard, but Chris was about to become the organized wizard.
One day down, an eternity to go. Let the chaos continue.