You see, the only reason that we can tell anyone about our secret operations is that they invariably question our sanity when we do. If they don't, we show 'em the "flashy thingy" and leave them staring like morons at us, while we make up some really lame bogus excuse for all this. Of course, being thoroughly brainwashed, scrubbed, rinsed and hung out to dry, they all believe this stuff. And if this happens to fail, we always have the Lobotomizer(TH) which is actually nothing more than a cheesy "as seen on TV" exerciser with another label slapped on it, but since we're dealing primarily with computer users who have brains comprised mainly of tapioca pudding, it is remarkably effective for it's purpose.
Of course, in a job like mine, a phone that is plugged in will eventually ring somewhere along the line, and this one that I just plugged in did just that. For a minute, I considered pulling out my Noisy Cricket and putting a nice little hole in the phone (and the cubicle wall, and about the next three floors down for that matter.) but reconsider when I remember the last time I did that. the half of my boss that was left after that little incident was none too happy about it. This leaves me few options, and I decide that answering it may be the best one in this situation. Before I answer the call, however, I turn on all sorts of high tech devices, and the caller's face appears from seventeen different angles, as does his Packard Bell system. I'm not sure If this is trouble, or just an excuse to do some stuff that I probably wouildn't get away with in any sort of civilized tech support operation.
I finally decide to pick up the phone, and answer in my most polite voice, "Psychic tech support hotline, we knew you'd be calling." Of course, these lusers are so predictable in many cases that the only way that they might end up not calling is if they electrocuted themselves trying to plug the thign in. The luser, having the IQ of a brick, the neural patterns showing up on one of the monitors beside my desk suddenly go nearly flat as the luser's brain struggles to comprehend this fact. As the luser gazes awestruck into the earpiece, I pull out my dog-eared copy of "101 ways to destroy a computer" and find one of my personal favorites on page 57, which involves some pretty large magnets. Fortunately, a couple of my fellow agents anticipated this, and left some strategically placed objects. Now comes the fun part.
After a few minutes of incoherent babbling, the luser manages to come up with a reply... "Duh... What?" Immediately, one of the other agents hits a stopwatch, as the bets are paid off as to how long it would take this luser to respond. I press a button on one of the funky-lookuing devices, and suddenly, the luser's hair stands on end in a style that smacks heavily of 10,000 volts of electricity. This jolts the user to what some might interpet as being his senses, and then he begins to explain that the computer isn't working. A quick scan of the system reveals that he is just imagining all of these problems. Of course, this is a Packard Bell system, which means that it is defective my nature.
I pretend to think really hard for a minute or two, putting the user on mute to make sure that he doesn't hear the riotous laughter. I then take the mute button off, and proceed to explain that the user (already in "dummy mode" from well before calling us) is having problems with localized magnetic disturbances around the region of his hard disk (which anyone qwith half a brain cell knows is perfectly normal stuff.) First, you'll need to protect yourself from these to use the computer safely, so we have provided a suit of armor that will prevent the magnetic disturbances from affecting your behavior any. Sure enough, the user finds our "strategically placed" suit of armor at the doorway, and puts it on. Now is the time to strike. As the user returns to the phone, I explain that the user is also having a problem with hard disk polarity due to the magnetic field. I explained that there was a switch on the front of the computer with an "I" and an "O" printed on it, which is meant to repair bits that may be fried by this. I had the user repeatedly switch this until nothing but garbage appeared on the screen. I explained that this was normal, as the system graphically displays what it is doing. Finally, without warning, I explain that we are getting stranghe magnetic fluctuations in that area, and I switch on our high-tech billion-dollar magnetic field satellite, which causes the clueless luser to sudden;y find himself stuck to the ceiling of the room. I put the data on the hard disk down as a mercy killing, and let the userr down with a loud colanging sound. The user, now suspecting that the computer is actinug really strangely, hangs up as I describe that he needs to open it up. I point out a "screwdriver" sitting in the room (actually a Noisy Cricket, but those things are so much fun that the luser doesn't notice) and instruct him to press the trigger to open the case. This opens the case all right-- as well as the desk, a wall, and a sizable hole in the ground. Judging from the trajectory of the luser's flight through the celing (compensated by the satellite, of course) lands him right smack dab in the middle of our merry little group of agents.
As we all popped on the sunglasses to avoid the flash of the neurolyzer, I hit the button, leaving the luser dumbfounded (which obviously comes quite naturally in this case.) I explained that an asteroid coming from the sky somewhere around Venus got ignited by some swamp gas and landed right smack dab on top of his computer, leaving a rather sizsable hole in his desk. The luser then proceeded to wander out of the building babbling incoherently, interrupted only by rhe souinds of a straitjacket being put on and an ambulance making a beeline for the looney bin. As I hung up the phone, I began to wonder if the flashy thingy was really redundant in this case. After all, the user was already facing a pretty serious grey matter shortage. Unable to reconcile this apparent contradiction, I decided that I'd pull out the Noisy Cricket and take a shot or two at the phone. I could always use the "flashy thingy" and convince everyone that we were just downsizing a bit.