The Wage Mage and Machine Energy

Someone commented on my blog about Machine Energy. It was something I meant to post on the other day, but figured I'd save it for another posting. (Gotta keep that WARP count going!)

I find that I work with Machine Energy instinctively, almost unconsciously. When I'm working on an obstinate printer or a cranky PC, or a moody laptop, I find that as I'm troubleshooting, I will absentmindedly place a hand on it, and my mind will start to contemplate the mechanical processes and the energy flows needed to keep them moving. Usually, this is accompanied by a stroking motion and telling the printer or PC that it is a "good girl." Yep, in my world, machines are women. I am sure that's a setup for a joke somewhere, but I won't make it. I'll leave that to the proverts.

I have to say first that when the multiverse bitch-slapped me into service as an arbiter and servant, technomagick was not even on the table. I was 17 then, maybe 18, $CONFIDENTIAL years ago, and all I wanted to do was be a journalist. Those who know me know how that turned out. One religion degree and a CCNA later, here I am, slinging tech support wisdom for pay.

But I regress…

Let me tell you the story of my belated 1992 Chevrolet Cavalier. (Those who really know me are groaning right now, and leaving the room.) I miss that car. It was a nice little 4 door red sedan. It was the car I learned to drive in, and my first car. I drove it for almost 10 years, until it died in 2004. She and I had a great rapport. By the time it died, it had no AC, no radio, fluids were leaking out of about 5 places, the brakes were shot, and the alternator died every three months. But I loved it. It was a girl too.

I swear that car kept running due to sheer will and a LOT of energies put into it. Did I have a story? Yes, I did. Here:

One day, about 1998, I got pulled over for speeding. I was nervous, and the police officer's attitude didn't help. The first thing I touched after I drove away was the radio. Fried it. It took three weeks before the radio would work again. I could talk to that car and make it work. Usually a nice word or two would get it to start.

When I finally had to give it up, it had 275,000 miles on it. The car guy was surprised it was even moving under its own power. When the guy went to look under the hood, it proceeded to spit fluids all over his nice shoes.

I can't describe what it feels like. It's just a feeling. When I touch a machine, I can feel a presence. I am still working on refining it. Sadly, I can only dream about an ideal world where the Fireballs over TCP/IP application is available. I would also be okay with a decent electric shock. Even better would be the ability to astrally project to their site and slap them on the back of the head ala Agent Gibbs from NCIS. I'd get a lot of astral frequent flier miles like that.

But Sidhe, you might ask, are you not a pacifist, do you not believe in resolving things in a non-violent manner, are you not trying to be a good example of compassion, mercy, and the middle way?

The longer I have worked in technical support, the more I have come to despise the trait of WILLFUL ignorance. I don't expect my users to have any deep technical knowledge of the systems. I do expect them to be an active participant in the troubleshooting process. For example: Today, a user called me because her PC was not booting properly. I made a 20 minute attempt to walk her through rebooting and getting the system up. It's all well and good but mid troubleshooting, she'd randomly start talking to someone else and ignore me, a minute later, the part where she needed to actually press a button would pass, and she'd be stuck right where she was before. Even after I asked her to please pay attention. I finally had to get my boss to stop by there while he was in the field, so he could spend 30 seconds pressing a button. All because she refused to help. I feel that a well placed electric shock or fireball would impress upon them the need to help a tech out. This is willful ignorance.

Next, we'll be talking about masks, the psyche, and theme park fuzzy animal costumes. Something I'll get to later. How does a Mickey Mouse costume have to do with magick? Just wait…