News: 1706261414

  ARM Give a man a fire and he's warm for a day, but set fire to him and he's warm for the rest of his life (Terry Pratchett, Jingo)

BOFH: Looks like you're writing an email. Fancy telling your colleague to #$%^ off?

(2024/01/26)


Episode 2 "It's going to be amazing!" the Boss burbles, positively foaming at the mouth.

"What will be?" the PFY asks.

"It's a bit hush-hush," the Boss teases.

[1]

"So hush is the best plan?" I suggest.

[2]

[3]

"No, I think you can be trusted," he chirps back.

"I'm fairly sure we can't," I respond.

[4]

"It's new technology!" he burbles once more.

"Well, I'm off to lunch!" I say, picking up my phone.

"It's quarter to 11!" the Boss simpers, wanting to tell us his news.

[5]

"Yes, I'm doing unstable fasting as my New Year's resolution."

"Unstable fasting?"

"Yes, it's like intermittent fasting, only you vary the times you eat so that your body doesn't plan on food."

"Does that... work?"

"I'll let you know after I surprise myself with a large bowl of onion bhajis, a mango lassi and two Kashmiri naans," I say, heading out.

... a large bowl of onion bhajis, a mango lassi and two Kashmiri naans later...

"... and people will LOVE it!" the Boss burbles to the PFY.

"What will people love?" I ask, forgetting that golden rule.

"Interpretive Communications," the Boss says, like it's a "thing."

"I predict it'll be as popular as Interpretive Dance," I counter. "But continue - if only to drown out my complaining digestive system."

"It's next level stuff," the Boss replies.

"And by next level... you mean basement?" I ask, hinting at the downward direction of his discourse.

"No, this is really great!" the Boss gushes. "I've signed us up to an online company which will analyze our emails and provide AI guided automated messages."

There is a period of silence while the PFY contemplates the myriad of ways that this will backfire.

"So..." the PFY says. "You've given some unknown company access to all OUR company's email?"

"Yes."

"The personal stuff, the financial stuff – the confidential business stuff?"

"Ah... yes," the Boss says, a shadow of doubt crossing his features.

"And we have a bulletproof NDA document, anonymizing content whilst still compartmentalizing individuals?"

"I'm not sure what you mean?"

"They categorically state they won't disclose our email content to anyone?"

"Uhhh..."

"And they can ensure that the language model being built can't be tied to one user or another, but also that information won't be passed between users?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"OK. You know that kid in the coloured pencil office who always says 'to be pacific' - we probably want that as a private language model for him alone and not for everyone else's communications. And say if the Head of H.R. had recently sent about 100 emails back and forth to his minions about how they're going to crack down on the malingerers that are working from home for health reasons – you possibly wouldn't want that coming up as a suggested sentence for one of the aforementioned malingerers when they wanted to apply for sick leave..."

"Err..."

"Do you happen to have a copy of a contract?" I ask.

"Ahm, well. It was more of a boilerplate thing," the Boss backpedals. "We have a no-cost trial of the software, then, if there were no major complaints, we subscribe to the service."

"Ah yes, the try-before-you-get-addicted strategy – as used by Class-A drug pushers everywhere. Nice."

"I... what?"

"You know, it's free till you're hooked – then the gouging begins."

"No..."

"So, you have the pricing model?"

"I was told it was very reasonable."

"Sounds legit!" the PFY says.

"And what budget were you using?"

"Our new AI budget."

"What new AI budget?"

"Oh, didn't I tell you about that? We consolidated all the unused cost centers into a central AI budget."

And by "unused cost centers" the Boss means the private slush funds of the PFY and myself. I suspect our deliveries of "cleaning alcohol" may be coming to an end.

"Yes, but as you say, if there were major complaints..."

"I can't see how that would happen. The AI builds models of common usage and blends it into your correspondence. You know that email I sent you this morning about the security system not permitting me to access the server room?"

"The three-page monologue on access control criteria, your position in the Company, your seniority level, how this might be construed as a disciplinary matter, etc?"

"Yes, that's the one. That was completely AI, based on my previous conversations with you, H.R. and our Health and Safety person. I just typed the phrase 'Justify access to the server room in a request' and it created that email."

And it was a reasonable email. I mean, it was dull and unnecessarily verbose – but far more coherent than the Boss's normal stream of consciousness.

"Yes, but there still might be complaints," the PFY suggests, wanting to keep that "cleaning alcohol."

"Oh, I doubt it."

...The next day...

"Well there have been a couple of complaints," the Boss admits, in response to my question.

"Really?" I ask. "Was it because email messages started calling the recipient bumhole?"

"I... how did you know that?"

"I didn't – but I did know the PFY automated the sending of 500,000 email interchanges last night with that particular foible. The emails may also have had far right views, misattributed many common quotes to Chairman Mao and favorably reviewed various investment schemes made with Nigerian princes who contacted complete strangers over email."

"I think people will understand that these quirks are just a foible of AI that can be trained out," the Boss replies.

[6]BOFH : Nice air conditioning system. Would be a shame if anything happened to it

[7]BOFH : We send a user to visit Kelvin – Keeper of the Batteries

[8]BOFH : Where do you think you are going with that toner cartridge?

[9]BOFH : Are you a druid? Legally, you have to tell me if you're a druid

"Those same people you bulk-emailed the AI contract to? Highlighting the clause permitting them to scan person messages?"

"I didn't... Oh," the Boss sighs.

"Yes. Still, half of those bumholes probably haven't opened their email yet."

"So there's still time to..." the boss says, grasping at featherlike straws.

"No... No. The bumholes at H.R. probably didn't like your 'Justify me a pay rise for not being an inbred ferret's backside like those H.R. people' email."

"Oooh, and here comes one of those bumholes from security that your email thought was borderline neanderthal..."

The rest as Chairman Mao would say, is cleaning alcohol history...

[10]BOFH: The whole shebang

[11]The Compleat BOFH Archives 95-99

Get our [12]Tech Resources



[1] https://pubads.g.doubleclick.net/gampad/jump?co=1&iu=/6978/reg_offbeat/bofh&sz=300x50%7C300x100%7C300x250%7C300x251%7C300x252%7C300x600%7C300x601&tile=2&c=2ZbOQ27KKzWZPVXzUFf-ALAAAAEM&t=ct%3Dns%26unitnum%3D2%26raptor%3Dcondor%26pos%3Dtop%26test%3D0

[2] https://pubads.g.doubleclick.net/gampad/jump?co=1&iu=/6978/reg_offbeat/bofh&sz=300x50%7C300x100%7C300x250%7C300x251%7C300x252%7C300x600%7C300x601&tile=4&c=44ZbOQ27KKzWZPVXzUFf-ALAAAAEM&t=ct%3Dns%26unitnum%3D4%26raptor%3Dfalcon%26pos%3Dmid%26test%3D0

[3] https://pubads.g.doubleclick.net/gampad/jump?co=1&iu=/6978/reg_offbeat/bofh&sz=300x50%7C300x100%7C300x250%7C300x251%7C300x252%7C300x600%7C300x601&tile=3&c=33ZbOQ27KKzWZPVXzUFf-ALAAAAEM&t=ct%3Dns%26unitnum%3D3%26raptor%3Deagle%26pos%3Dmid%26test%3D0

[4] https://pubads.g.doubleclick.net/gampad/jump?co=1&iu=/6978/reg_offbeat/bofh&sz=300x50%7C300x100%7C300x250%7C300x251%7C300x252%7C300x600%7C300x601&tile=4&c=44ZbOQ27KKzWZPVXzUFf-ALAAAAEM&t=ct%3Dns%26unitnum%3D4%26raptor%3Dfalcon%26pos%3Dmid%26test%3D0

[5] https://pubads.g.doubleclick.net/gampad/jump?co=1&iu=/6978/reg_offbeat/bofh&sz=300x50%7C300x100%7C300x250%7C300x251%7C300x252%7C300x600%7C300x601&tile=3&c=33ZbOQ27KKzWZPVXzUFf-ALAAAAEM&t=ct%3Dns%26unitnum%3D3%26raptor%3Deagle%26pos%3Dmid%26test%3D0

[6] https://www.theregister.com/2024/01/12/bofh_2024_episode_1/

[7] https://www.theregister.com/2023/04/14/bofh_2023_episode_7/

[8] https://www.theregister.com/2022/05/27/bofh_2022_episode_10/

[9] https://www.theregister.com/2021/01/22/bofh_2021_episode_1/

[10] https://www.theregister.com/data_centre/bofh/

[11] http://www.bofharchive.com/

[12] https://whitepapers.theregister.com/



Another one bites the dust

Pascal Monett

Ah, I have the feeling that "AI" is going to have a certain importance for BOFH this year.

Can't wait to find out how the bosses will be ground into paste . . .

Excellent!

Charlie Clark

Though I can imagine at least one sequel on the back of this as the fight gets taken to the vendor. I wonder who might work for them? Could it be…?

Re: Excellent!

Terje

It must be, it was so long since we had an appearance!

Re: Excellent!

Charlie Clark

And now armed with models trained with BOFH and PFY mails, including orders for "cleaning alcohol" and "emergency provisions".

Trusted

Dizzy Dwarf

"I'm fairly sure we can't"

Lovely

"coloured pencil office"

Tim 11

He better not be referring to the software development team...

Re: "coloured pencil office"

Karl Vegar

I suspect that would be a reference to graphic design, marketing and now that you mention it probably UX as well.

Not sure here

Anonymous Coward

I always thought that BOFH was satirical meanderings based on post pub-lunch dreaming but this is starting to sound a little too close to higher managements 'good ideas' we are starting to hear teasers about.

They didn't learn their lesson from bean-counter driven cloud migrations so now they are looking to improve on the 'any day now' cost savings from that and virtualise the workforce too

Strange things are done to be number one
In selling the computer The Druids were entrepreneurs,
IBM has their strategem And they built a granite box
Which steadily grows acuter, It tracked the moon, warned of monsoons,
And Honeywell competes like Hell, And forecast the equinox
But the story's missing link Their price was right, their future
Is the system old at Stonemenge sold bright,
By the firm of Druids, Inc. The prototype was sold;
From Stonehenge site their bits and byte
Would ship for Celtic gold.
The movers came to crate the frame;
It weighed a million ton!
The traffic folk thought it a joke The man spoke true, and thus to you
(the wagon wheels just spun); A warning from the ages;
"They'll nay sell that," the foreman Your stock will slip if you can't ship
spat, What's in your brochure's pages.
"Just leave the wild weeds grow; See if it sells without the bells
"It's Druid-kind, over-designed, And strings that ring and quiver;
"And belly up they'll go." Druid repute went down the chute
Because they couldn't deliver.
-- Edward C. McManus, "The Computer at Stonehenge"