Original URL: https://www.theregister.com/2001/10/08/arise_sir_bofh/

Arise Sir BOFH

In the Court of King Bastard

By Simon Travaglia

Posted in BOFH, 8th October 2001 09:58 GMT

Episode 26

Episode 26

"It sounds bad," The Boss comments, as we trundle off to meet the HR types. "A matter of some concern, they said."

No doubt it's something crucial like the colour of their fileshare server or the background image on the wallpaper on their desktops...

. . .

As it happens, I was completely wrong. The matter of some concern is in fact a matter of some concern!

"It's his Resume, Ron," the HR Droid says, indicating a stack of fiction worthy of the Bard himself. "As a matter of policy we perform background checks on all contractors who join the company."

That's news to me, but given the recent history of the non-recoverability of some files of the HR Droid concerned, I'm sure he made a special effort on my part.

Which was good of him.

"Ah... Yes - but that was a fair amount of time ago now..." I respond.

"Quite. Only we were unable to verify many of your details because the referees you mentioned were unavailable - being out of the country in tax exile, in a coma, or deceased."

"Ah Yes, poor old Richard Nixon - or Dick as we called him. A good man despite everything you know."

"Nyes..." The HR droid comments doubtfully. "However, as it happens the personnel officer of the large international computing company you mentioned in your resume'made an amazing recovery the other day, so we were able to verify your claims to being the chief behind-the-scenes advisor in their major product lines.."

"Good, that's a relief."

"He says he's never heard of you!"

"Really? Well, head trauma is a funny one - one moment you're with it, the next you can't remember your own..."

"Neither do any of his staff."

"Well it WAS quite hush-hush. Still, I'm a little hurt he's forgotten me. Maybe that's why I never got those royalties payments? Still, forgive and forget, that's what I say!" I respond magnanimously.

"Yes, speaking of ROYAL ties, this lack of character witnesses does cast a little doubt on some of the other claims in your Resume," the HR drone snivels.

"Like what for instance?" I ask, Perry Masoning away.

"Your Knighthood?"

"You've got a KNIGHTHOOD?!?" The Boss gasps disbelievingly

"Of course."

"I've looked - he's lying", the HR Drone blurts unkindly.

"Really? You checked on www.bofhknighthood.com?" I respond, not to be put off.

"bofhknighthood dot com?" The Boss asks.

"Yes, home of the bastard knighthood!"

"Bastard knighthoods don't count!" the HR geek snaps, not a happy man.

"Of course they do!" The PFY cries, entering the office from his loiter-holding pattern outside. "I'm Sir Steven of the Daisy Wheel Printer!"

"This is ridiculous!"

"No it's not!" I cry, not wanting to be negative, but being forced into it.

"It is - there's no societial precedent!"

"There is now!"

"There's no ceremony!"

"Yes there is! I was knighted with the silver ball peen hammer in front of an audience of my peers!" The PFY adds.

"Peers?"

"Of The Kerberos Realm!"

"It's ridiculous!" the HR bloke shouts, not liking this tangent one little bit. "Steven's obviously in cahoots with him!"

SIR Steven," I correct.

"So what's your knighthood then?" The Boss asks, muddying the water a little by humouring me.

"I'm actually a Knight of the ergonomic table - It's like the round table, only more comfortable to sit at."

"I see. And you went to a ceremony?"

"I was unable to attend - due to work commitments. So they posted notification to me."

"I see. And what authority confers these titles?"

"That would be the King of Bastards."

"You, perhaps?" The Boss enquires drily..

"As it happens, Yes!"

"Right! Well, I don't really see that this is worth pursuing," The Boss comments decisively as he trundles out of the office.

. . .

"You still can't do that!" The HR type snivels seconds later.

"Of course I can! I'm the King!"

"I'm afraid we don't accept your credentials," The HR type interjects. "Which, as you lied in your application, puts your position at risk."

"Isn't that HIGH TREASON!?" The PFY asks, having waited for this moment for over a minute.

"No no, High Treason is only during a state of War." I say, motioning The PFY to put the hammer down. "This is just normal treason.."

"Ah!"

"But this helpful HR chappy has a point! It might be construed that the information in my application might be misleading. And as such I feel compelled to submit my resignation to my employer. . . . ."

. . .

"And?" the HR Droid asks after 10 seconds of silence.

"Well I did, and he didn't accept it."

"He?"

"Yes, me. As Director of the private company that contracts to you. I feel my employee should possibly have clarified his credentials further, and am disappointed in his actions. Obviously, I will be docking his pay to teach him a lesson. I may even award myself a bonus in my Director's fees for my quick and professional manner in which I resolved the situation. A professionalism which will of course be reflected in the hourly rate I will be requiring next contract renegotiation time. Which just leaves the matter of Treason..."

. .One Hour Later...

"Obviously we don't want to make a big production out of it," the Boss burbles to the head of HR sadly, indicating the PFY's swollen cheek. "But when it comes to common assault.."

"Indeed" the Director of HR agrees. "And he just hit him? No provocation?"

"None" the PFY, Boss and I respond in unison.

"Well, I suppose I'll have to have a word with him. And you don't want to pursue this... legally?"

"Well, I think it's only the Company that would suffer," The PFY replies.

"Yes, I suppose you're right." he sighs, "Very well."

. . .

"I have to admit that I didn't think Ron would go for it - just to save a quid or so on your hourly rate." the PFY comments, as we break for the CCTV monitor to watch the "firing squad" first hand.

"SirRon, I think you mean."

"Ah," The PFY blurts (penny dropping) "of the....?"

"..of the OS2 install media."

"An appropriately weighty title indeed.. "

"Yes, I thought so." ®

BOFH is copyright © 1995-2001, Simon Travaglia. Don't mess with his rights.