Vegas, baby. Whether you're doubling down on eleven at the Bellagio, or running cable underneath the kooky new crap table at the Flamingo, you can't help but dig the magic of that groovy oasis in the desert.
A friend of ours, we'll call him "Jimmy the Router", had been an IS freelance consultant for 18 years when he got tapped to go to the mattresses at a major Las Vegas Hotel and Casino. Although working on their slot player evaluation system all day wasn't quite the gasser he had hoped for, one silly slouch was about to bring the server room back from Dullsville.
The crumb in question had just moved the joint's entire hotel and guest registration system to a new server. The heavies in charge had requested that the old library on the original AS/400 server be deep-sixed to loosen up some disk space.
Well wouldn't you know it, the fink parked his caboose at the wrong system console and deleted the live version instead of the one that he'd already croaked. Clyde left the room and within a couple of tic tocs, the switchboard started ring-a-ding-dinging.
It was a wacky scene, baby. The joint had several thousand squares rolling the dice, and no one could check in or out. Jimmy had finished his clock-watching for the day and was on his way to the lounge for some gasoline when he saw the line for the counter stretching back to the slots.
The schmendricks at the resort had to do everything on paper for the next 12 hours while the last backup was juiced up and the system brought up to date.
Discretion, and a love of breathing without a respirator, prevents us from mentioning the name of this fine establishment. But when our Clyde's contract was cancelled the following day, you can bet he didn't hang around to catch any shows. Better to miss Goulet at the Trump Marina -- than to wake up at the bottom of one.
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