I work as a tech engineer for primary schools. Here I am, about three years ago, just promoted to Network Engineer from a service desk position, sent out to set up new Wi-Fi access points (APs) for a customer. The ticket states that their alarm system is fickle and I should steer clear of it.

No biggie: five APs. That’s about an hour of work, including configuring SSIDs and checking if they are placed conform to Sitesurvey. I send commands into one and… no connection. I check the IP I got from the DHCP server and it’s off.

Off to the patch cabinet, and lo and behold: in a world where 90% of all primary school devices use Wi-Fi, and 10/100 switches are a thing of the past, I find a 1000mbit fiber switch, functioning as a core switch to a stack of 10/100 UTP switches. Our firewall can be found here, as well, but no devices I can think of that could produce a second DHCP server.

So, I set a static IP in the subnet I got from this rogue DHCP server, and I manage to find a Gigaset VoIP box. I log in with the default credentials, and to my shock, it’s actually running a DHCP server and functions as a PPPoE modem toward an Internet connection no one heard of.

This is where the fun starts. I turn off the DHCP function and start configuring my APs. Halfway through, the alarm sets off. The customer is angry because I changed something. I’m flabbergasted.

I decide to go the “make the customer happy” way and go and fix it right this time. So, first things first: how is this alarm system configured? Luckily, VoIP and the alarm were installed by the same provider. Sadly, this provider sold all their alarm customers and all their VoIP customers to another third party. Both were unaware of what was actually installed due to a horrible handover.

The alarm company luckily can tell that they only have systems using IP to manage, and all they should need is a specific open port to the outer world. This goes against the interpretation of our customer, who is 100% sure the alarm uses a phone connection.

The VoIP company doesn’t have any information on the VoIP box I found and decides to just send someone to handle it and document everything to make sure this doesn’t happen again.

Since the VoIP box isn’t in use, doesn’t contain any SIP information, and can’t be found, I decide to remove it from the network. These old switches, lacking proper ARP support, make this an old-school “let’s ping this and pull cables” search. But after eliminating this bugger and resetting the alarm and the actually used VoIP system, I’m finally ready to continue configuring the APs.

Done? No. The party that installed the APs neglected the request to remove the old ones from above the ceiling plates, probably due to a lack of documentation. (Note: we were not in charge of the old APs).

So, I track them down and remove these APs, which are covered in crusty mouse droppings. Never have I been so happy with a bar of soap and hand sanitizer.

When packing my stuff to leave, I hear the school head on the phone with one of our Relationship managers, complaining about the fact that I managed to set off the alarm and shouldn’t have touched it.

IT in primary schools is usually sub-par, but this school took the cake and complained about me after I fixed most of their issues, while not even being there for troubleshooting

As a teacher myself, I am still somewhat flabbergasted about some events that took place when I was in high school. I previously wrote this story about some of it. That day with the surgery and the exam was actually even more infuriating as I had a run-in with the PE teacher who threatened to flunk me for missing class that morning, and only that morning.

The fact that I showed her papers from the surgery that proved that I was in the hospital didn’t matter; I had to participate in swim class the following month to be sure to not flunk. I showed her the papers stating that I was forbidden from swimming for two months following the surgery (inner ear), and she began hurling insults at me like I had PLANNED to have my eardrum collapse. In that case, I knew that she had zero grounds to flunk me as I had all the medical papers in order.

When I wasn’t on heavy medication, I did my best to get some training in, mostly biking to and from school. (I am spoiled enough to come from the town with the best bike lane coverage in my country.) My high school was in the neighbouring town, 15 km from home, so I biked 150 km per week.

My darling PE teacher accosted me whilst I was on my way to PE class. (I always biked in the PE clothes when we began the day with PE as it saved me a couple of minutes, and my regular clothes didn’t get sweaty that way.) She began berating me for being chubby and lazy and “never, ever do anything active”.

I was holding my bike, and I pointed out to her that I had biked from [Hometown] just like I did every day. Apparently, biking 150 km a week didn’t count. Huh. Who knew? I mean, cycling is an Olympic Sport and everything, but it wasn’t good enough for her.

In PE, we had some things we did in Year 1 that counted toward our final grade, and ditto for Year 2. Our classy PE teacher took all her notes about what we had achieved and had a bonfire, which made it almost impossible for us to get our final grades. In my case, it didn’t matter much as I have zero talent for PE, but it was quite nerve-wracking for my more athletically inclined classmates.

She was equally thrilled the following year when I was on antibiotics for eight months, constantly changing to stronger doses, and forbidden to participate in regular PE during my ailment. Instead, I was doing workouts. Again, I had orders from the doctor, but she was not happy.

She retired before our final year, and our next PE teacher was amazing.

Related:
If You Could Grade Teachers, An F Would Be More Than She Deserves

My high school was in a three-story building in the middle of downtown, and one side of the school faced an old apartment complex. I was admittedly zoning out when I noticed someone coming onto the balcony with a huge trash bag. This immediately caught my attention as I thought that was weird.

The woman glanced down and then dropped the bag over the side. Ah, she was throwing the bag into a dumpster on the ground. She went back in.

Then, she came out with a TV; it was a CRT, so probably about fifty pounds at minimum. She surely wasn’t going to…

She was.

Down it went.

CLANG!

BAM!

Then, the wailing of a car alarm caught the attention of everyone in class as the woman hurriedly ran back inside and slammed the door. Everyone ran to the window to see what had caused the noise. There was a dumpster, and in front of the dumpster was a car, with the TV making a big dent in the trunk of the car.

The teacher managed to somehow corral a bunch of rubbernecking teenagers to finish what was left of the class before sending us on our way.

I never saw the woman on the balcony for the rest of the semester.

CONTENT WARNING: Dead Animals (Taxidermy)

My aunt used to do free presentations using taxidermy specimens from the college where she worked. I’d help. These specimens had tags saying the dates they’d been stuffed — some back to the early 1900s. (The oldest I recall was a bear cub from 1903.)

The kids understood that the animals were dead and stuffed. On multiple occasions, we had parents ask what kind of drugs we had given the animals to keep them so quiet and docile.

THEY’RE DEAD!

When I was in college, I worked part-time in the building that served as the central hub for the college campus. No classes were held there, but the building had conference rooms, an auditorium, restaurants, and a computer laboratory, where I worked. The computer lab also sold software and printouts. Plus we were expected to help students on occasion, so we had basic office supplies on site: staplers, pens, etc. 

Like any other retail place, we had regulars. Most were fine, but one guy was just weird. He bought a copy of MS Office once and then just walked around the place a bunch of times, never using the computers, studying, or anything. He would frequently stop by and ask to borrow a pen, and then he would go back to walking around the place some more. I don’t think I ever saw him actually write anything down with the pens. 

One day, he asked to borrow a pen from me, and I gave it to him. He gave it back a few hours later, and I was disgusted to find that he had chewed it up. 

Me: “No, I’m not taking this pen back. This is now your pen. Keep hold of it now, because I’m not letting you borrow any more pens from here.”

[Weirdo] took the pen and left without saying anything. I didn’t see him for the rest of the day. 

On my next shift, which was late afternoon to close, [Weirdo] was there again, because he always was. 

Weirdo: “Can I borrow a pen?”

Me: “No. Last time you were here, I gave you a pen to keep. You can use that pen, and it should be fine because it was two days ago.”

[Weirdo] left immediately without saying a word. No arguing, no hassle. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. 

Later in that same shift, I was getting a bit hungry, so I called a member of the setup crew (other student employees who set up the auditoriums and conference rooms for events) to cover for me a bit because I wanted to get some dinner at one of the restaurants in the building.

I came back twenty minutes later to find the place swarming with police.

Me: “What in the h*** happened here?”

Setup Crew Guy: “[Weirdo] came in with a large axe and just started prowling around the place! I called the police, and they arrested him.”

I never saw [Weirdo] again after that. To this day, I wonder if [Weirdo] would have tried to murder me with an axe because I wouldn’t let him chew on a pen. If that’s the case, I’m glad he wasn’t smart enough to check the restaurants in the building.