As more and more DIY systems administrators arrive on the scene, courtesy of companies selling servers that apparently install themselves, the phenomenon of the Multi-Purpose Server has emerged.
“On the MCP course, I just started”, he explained, “the instructor stated quite clearly that there was actually very little difference between NT Server and NT Workstation.”
“And anyway”, he continued, “my software installed just fine and I’ve been using it for three days now without a hitch.”
I couldn’t argue with that of course. I tried to explain why I was suggesting this apocalyptic course of action but he wouldn’t have any of it. Conspiracy theories abounded.
“You just want me to go out and buy another workstation”, he said accusingly. “All you IT people think we have money to burn”, he protested while tactfully nudging the Annihilator behind his lunch box.
His boss had by now involved himself in the proceedings. He must have sensed I was about to leave, when he cajoled our man to ease off and give me a little time and space.
I tried to put things in perspective.
I explained that just because something was possible, that was not necessarily a good reason for doing it.
No reaction.
I explained that the server was a critical component in the network and its stability should not be compromised by buggy software intended for geeky desktops.
Blank stare.
I explained that NT Server was optimised for use as a server, not as a workstation.
Looking at finger nails.
I explained that a Windows computer is probably 1000 times more likely to crash when interactive applications are being used.
Slowly chewing straw.
I explained that server CPU and memory resources should not be wasted on non-essential applications.
Polishing specs.
I explained that a UPS should always be used with a server in order to protect data, reduce downtime and increase overall reliability.
Pupils beginning to dilate.
Spying an Ali G poster on the side of his filing cabinet, I finally found the right words. Leaning forward and breathing fire, I looked him straight in the eye and said:
“Hey man! Ya gotta give maximum respect to your server!”
Disclaimer: this fictional account is an amalgam of real-life experiences.
My rude awakening came when a nervous gentleman cornered me during my morning charge to the local deli. As I lined up to order my bacon buttie, he wondered out loud if I could rectify a “small” problem with a server he had recently purchased from Dell. Apparently he had spent long nights trying to get his "out-of-the-box network" operational and, under pressure from his boss, reluctantly agreed to seek outside help. Having come up against the standard “not our hardware” response from other tech firms in the area, he finally opted for what he must have assumed to be an unregistered charity.
When I arrived on-site and entered our friend’s office, the first thing to behold was a wobbly mains adaptor hanging precariously from a 13A outlet. Its troubled existence was betrayed by a sickly yellow tint punctuated by brown and black pockmarks. This outlet powered, among other things, an Espresso machine, an antique electric kettle, a Dimplex oil heater, a revolving fan and, last but not least, a pristine Dell server. I almost failed to notice the absence of a UPS.
The server was standing cozily by the heater to the right of his desk in a jungle of manuals, disks and cables. The tower design provided a convenient base for the office fan whose previous footprint was still evident on a dusty window sill destined for higher duties. I almost failed to notice that the plush carpet was obstructing the server's ventilation intake.
There wasn’t a workstation in sight.
“I have to use the server since my boss and the sales team got the workstations”, he dutifully explained as if some kind of lottery had taken place. “Anyway, this baby has two PIII-600s and I like to have a little power at my disposal”, he added with a conspiratorial wink.
The “small” problem was somehow bound up with the fact that he could not “log onto” the server from any of the workstations. He was sure that the cabling was okay as there were “green lights everywhere”. The server also seemed fine as he had been playing with it himself “more or less continuously over the last few days”.
Logging onto the server revealed a veritable Alladin’s cave of goodies.
Office 97 SR1a (plus obligatory desktop toolbar), Power Toys, Publisher 97, Visual Studio, two virus checkers (very security conscious), AutoCad 2000 (bootleg copy), Norton Utilities (buggy version), MS Flight Simulator and the latest beta of Internet Explorer 4 (with Active Desktop) taken from the February issue of PC Pro magazine.
He had just installed Napster although thankfully there was no sign of a sound card in the server. However, a spanking new Creative Labs 3D Blaster Annihilator sat ominously on the window sill looking for a home. Beside it the latest Revision 0.01B Driver CD.
Catching my eyes drifting, he explained:
“Oh, I forgot to specify a sound card at the time of purchase, although you would expect the sales people to warn you about these things. I mean, full multi-media is assumed nowadays when you’re buying a computer — even our workstations have sound.”
“Including a CD-ROM drive without a sound card is unforgivable.” he added indignantly. “It turned out for the better anyway”, he assured me while reaching over to caress the shrink wrap. “I got this baby through a friend at Creative Labs. It has the latest GeForce256 chipset from NVIDIA and is absolutely out of this world, man”, he confided as his voice became a touch more rhythmical with each passing word.
Oh, I almost forgot. He had a really cool psychedelic wallpaper creatively merged with a full screen image of his girlfriend (he insisted) scantily clad for interested passers-by to see.
I took a deep breath and counted to fifty. Ten is the actual number that was recommended to control my childhood tantrums. However, on this occasion, I felt obliged to draw on engineering overkill best practice.
On the point of suffocation, I quickly exhaled and was just about to get into my stride when the screen-saver started up. Stopped in my tracks, I was duly mesmerised by an invigorating, multi-dimensional, dynamic ray-tracing monolith. Apparently another friend, this time from Silicon Graphics (very well connected), had sent it as an electronic birthday present. He was very proud.
“Highly-computationally intensive”, he confided “Those two CPUs are working flat out, man”.
I was now getting a tad emotional. Not knowing whether to laugh or cry, I weakly explained that before I could even begin to address this “small” problem, I would have to clean all this junk from his server. In fact, I suggested that a complete re-install was probably the only realistic option.
“Why?” he protested.
He used the word in that slow, sad, slightly angry way — you know what I’m talking about — as if he had just found out his server wallpaper was dating his best friend.
“Why?” he repeated with a detectable lump in his throat.
As a lifelong sucker for emotional blackmail, I made a tactical retreat and proposed a little chill time over two cups of his best Espresso. I reckoned this guy was spiralling towards cold-turkey and I was going to have to bear the brunt.
Over a chipped mug of Yellow-Pack instant coffee and a pristine tumbler of Westphalian herbal tea on ice (with straw), I listened intently and nodded gravely at his confessional. However, contrition was not part of the deal.
When I arrived on-site and entered our friend’s office, the first thing to behold was a wobbly mains adaptor hanging precariously from a 13A outlet. Its troubled existence was betrayed by a sickly yellow tint punctuated by brown and black pockmarks. This outlet powered, among other things, an Espresso machine, an antique electric kettle, a Dimplex oil heater, a revolving fan and, last but not least, a pristine Dell server. I almost failed to notice the absence of a UPS.
The server was standing cozily by the heater to the right of his desk in a jungle of manuals, disks and cables. The tower design provided a convenient base for the office fan whose previous footprint was still evident on a dusty window sill destined for higher duties. I almost failed to notice that the plush carpet was obstructing the server's ventilation intake.
There wasn’t a workstation in sight.
“I have to use the server since my boss and the sales team got the workstations”, he dutifully explained as if some kind of lottery had taken place. “Anyway, this baby has two PIII-600s and I like to have a little power at my disposal”, he added with a conspiratorial wink.
The “small” problem was somehow bound up with the fact that he could not “log onto” the server from any of the workstations. He was sure that the cabling was okay as there were “green lights everywhere”. The server also seemed fine as he had been playing with it himself “more or less continuously over the last few days”.
Logging onto the server revealed a veritable Alladin’s cave of goodies.
Office 97 SR1a (plus obligatory desktop toolbar), Power Toys, Publisher 97, Visual Studio, two virus checkers (very security conscious), AutoCad 2000 (bootleg copy), Norton Utilities (buggy version), MS Flight Simulator and the latest beta of Internet Explorer 4 (with Active Desktop) taken from the February issue of PC Pro magazine.
He had just installed Napster although thankfully there was no sign of a sound card in the server. However, a spanking new Creative Labs 3D Blaster Annihilator sat ominously on the window sill looking for a home. Beside it the latest Revision 0.01B Driver CD.
Catching my eyes drifting, he explained:
“Oh, I forgot to specify a sound card at the time of purchase, although you would expect the sales people to warn you about these things. I mean, full multi-media is assumed nowadays when you’re buying a computer — even our workstations have sound.”
“Including a CD-ROM drive without a sound card is unforgivable.” he added indignantly. “It turned out for the better anyway”, he assured me while reaching over to caress the shrink wrap. “I got this baby through a friend at Creative Labs. It has the latest GeForce256 chipset from NVIDIA and is absolutely out of this world, man”, he confided as his voice became a touch more rhythmical with each passing word.
Oh, I almost forgot. He had a really cool psychedelic wallpaper creatively merged with a full screen image of his girlfriend (he insisted) scantily clad for interested passers-by to see.
I took a deep breath and counted to fifty. Ten is the actual number that was recommended to control my childhood tantrums. However, on this occasion, I felt obliged to draw on engineering overkill best practice.
On the point of suffocation, I quickly exhaled and was just about to get into my stride when the screen-saver started up. Stopped in my tracks, I was duly mesmerised by an invigorating, multi-dimensional, dynamic ray-tracing monolith. Apparently another friend, this time from Silicon Graphics (very well connected), had sent it as an electronic birthday present. He was very proud.
“Highly-computationally intensive”, he confided “Those two CPUs are working flat out, man”.
I was now getting a tad emotional. Not knowing whether to laugh or cry, I weakly explained that before I could even begin to address this “small” problem, I would have to clean all this junk from his server. In fact, I suggested that a complete re-install was probably the only realistic option.
“Why?” he protested.
He used the word in that slow, sad, slightly angry way — you know what I’m talking about — as if he had just found out his server wallpaper was dating his best friend.
“Why?” he repeated with a detectable lump in his throat.
As a lifelong sucker for emotional blackmail, I made a tactical retreat and proposed a little chill time over two cups of his best Espresso. I reckoned this guy was spiralling towards cold-turkey and I was going to have to bear the brunt.
Over a chipped mug of Yellow-Pack instant coffee and a pristine tumbler of Westphalian herbal tea on ice (with straw), I listened intently and nodded gravely at his confessional. However, contrition was not part of the deal.
“On the MCP course, I just started”, he explained, “the instructor stated quite clearly that there was actually very little difference between NT Server and NT Workstation.”
“And anyway”, he continued, “my software installed just fine and I’ve been using it for three days now without a hitch.”
I couldn’t argue with that of course. I tried to explain why I was suggesting this apocalyptic course of action but he wouldn’t have any of it. Conspiracy theories abounded.
“You just want me to go out and buy another workstation”, he said accusingly. “All you IT people think we have money to burn”, he protested while tactfully nudging the Annihilator behind his lunch box.
His boss had by now involved himself in the proceedings. He must have sensed I was about to leave, when he cajoled our man to ease off and give me a little time and space.
I tried to put things in perspective.
I explained that just because something was possible, that was not necessarily a good reason for doing it.
No reaction.
I explained that the server was a critical component in the network and its stability should not be compromised by buggy software intended for geeky desktops.
Blank stare.
I explained that NT Server was optimised for use as a server, not as a workstation.
Looking at finger nails.
I explained that a Windows computer is probably 1000 times more likely to crash when interactive applications are being used.
Slowly chewing straw.
I explained that server CPU and memory resources should not be wasted on non-essential applications.
Polishing specs.
I explained that a UPS should always be used with a server in order to protect data, reduce downtime and increase overall reliability.
Pupils beginning to dilate.
Spying an Ali G poster on the side of his filing cabinet, I finally found the right words. Leaning forward and breathing fire, I looked him straight in the eye and said:
“Hey man! Ya gotta give maximum respect to your server!”
Disclaimer: this fictional account is an amalgam of real-life experiences.