The Sheriff

In one of Kathryn’s comments to my little brother Andy’s blog, I have been known to get on the literary bandwagon once in a while. Andy mentioned writing some humorous emails to coworkers that got passed around a bit and in reference to that, Kathryn mentioned I got into one as well. Well, here it is.

To set this up, I started working at my current employment about 4 years ago. In the first year I worked there, I was exposed to a gentleman that was, let’s say for conversational purposes, somewhat of an enigma. In order for the real humor of this to make sense, you have to understand some of his finer points.

Now, I am not one to bad mouth the military. I did my time in the Air National Guard (8 years) so I hail from the same background. However, one of the shortfalls of the military is this idea that somehow, the military experience supersedes what anyone else does in the ‘real world’. This guy, let’s call him ‘Bob’ (names changed to protect the guilty), was a prior military guy.

His opinion was that everything he learned in the military was everything he needed to know from a technical standpoint. He considered the need for some silly piece of paper that said he had a degree to be beneath him. He could talk the technical jargon well enough and had many in his chain of command convinced he was an expert in the test equipment field.

The problem was that I also knew the technical jargon and as such, I knew he sounded like a fool. He knew all the buzzwords, but didn’t know what it meant. He could silver tongue it well enough to fool people that were not technical, but those of us who were, we knew he was full of manure.

I think he got off on the idea that people would come to him for business. It gave him a heady sense of power. At the time, he felt like he had control of the purse strings and could make multi-million dollar contractual decisions and he threw his weight around with vendors like he was the one they had to impress. The fact was, he never had that authority because he was not an engineer. And I think he resented engineers for that. After all, who needs a degree to do this stuff? He could talk the talk. He could throw his weight around. He could make people jump and it made him feel important. Even though he had no idea what he was talking about.

He was also the king of the euphemisms. Most of them were just annoying. He would be talking about some vendor he thought was not giving us a good enough deal and he would say, “Let’s sharpen our pencils and poke them in the eye”, or, “If they won’t cooperate, we can cap them in the forehead, bury them on the flight line, and march on.”

He also overemphasized his influence with upper management. He kept saying he had some General’s ear and would go have a discussion with him if he wasn’t getting his way. Flight Chiefs, Squadron Directors, no one was big enough or bad enough to withstand his fury or line of influence. “There’s a new Sheriff in town” he would always say implying he was the guy and they had to make him happy or there would be trouble.

One of his so called pet ideas was establishing a test system using PXI architecture. For those who are not technically inclined, the PXI is a PCI (Peripheral Computer Interface) driven architecture. So, PXI stands for PCI eXtended Interface; thus, PXI. This Bob guy felt like it was his destiny to come up with this great PXI standard for all test equipment in the shops. Except, it was envisioned years prior by my supervisor (an engineer, no less) and was something I picked up on and as one of my main projects. So, in other words, this guy was trying to horn in on my work.

I have been working test equipment for close to 14 years now. I think I know a thing or two about it. Having some bozo horn in on an area he had no clue how it really worked, trying to muscle his way around through intimidation and general bloviating didn’t sit well with me (or anyone else in the engineering department). After months of this frustration (he was like talking to a 3 year old. No matter what I said, he only heard what he wanted to hear and didn’t pay attention to logic). I finally had enough. Out of sheer frustration and annoyance, I sat down and wrote ‘The Sheriff’, a spinoff of Edgar Allen Poe’s ‘The Raven’

To get some of the references, I have to do some simple clarification beyond what I have already said. The project I had been assigned involved a 9-bay PXI chassis. We only needed 7 bays, but this guy was fuming and foaming that it had to be an 18-bay chassis. Why? Only his far superior intelect could reason it out.

He also gathered parts lists from this company we used to develop the tester – CACI, and found that he could go out and buy all the parts for around $43k, while CACI was charging us around $65k for each tester. We tried fruitlessly to point out that someone had to assemble and test it (his response was “it only takes someone with a 3rd grade education and a screwdriver”), but this fell on deaf (or ignorant) ears.

Having said that, here is:


The Sheriff

Once upon a midnight dreary,
While I pondered weak and weary,
At my computer monitor reading a volume of designing lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping,
Suddenly there came a yapping,
As of some one not gently yakking,
Blustering at my cubicle door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `yakking at my cubicle door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember
That it was some unruly member,
Speaking in such solid timbre
Who had recently come through our door.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;
Vainly I had sought to borrow
Some excuse to help me follow - follow some path to an open door -
Where I could escape this buxom fellow at my cubicle door.


Alas I felt and was uncertain
Of my escape it was not certain
It thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating
Of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating
Entrance at my cubicle door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my cubicle door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger;
Hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `your loudness, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping,
And so loudly you came yapping,
And so noisily came yakking,
Blustering at my cubicle door,
That I that overheard you'
Here I opened wide the door; -
A new sheriff there, and nothing more.

"The PXI chassis is the solution,
Why you feel inclined to chasten,
Doubting that this is the way to go forevermore
This simple rule must go unbroken,
To make my plan to be no token,
I want 18 bays and I'm not jokin'
To make the standard work forevermore

Or I'll sharpen up my steely pencil,
Carving out my special stencil
And your eye will be nothing more."

"With those parts lists I have a feeling
(They were paid for, it's not stealing!)
I could buy directly from any choice of store
And with a child's simple learning
And a small screwdriver turning
You would be quickly churning
Complex test equipment on the floor
And be rid of CACI forevermore!"



"Now if you still are disagreeing
Very soon you will be seeing
The power of the sheriff in ways you can't ignore
You know what I will soon be doing
The General's ear I will be chewing
Squadron Chiefs and others to them I will implore
To bypass engineering evermore"



Back into my cubicle turning,
All my soul within me burning,
Wondering about solutions that didn't seem to work so well before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely there is something for exception;
That may mitigate this deception,
Allowing other options to explore -
There must be ways around it that are so simple to explore; -
To limit my designs no more!'

Alas, my mind it gave a shutter
Feeling soft and cold like butter,
While in there stepped the stately sheriff like the saintly days of yore.
Trying now to convince me;
That the way he said it should be;
Lest he should stop and cap me and bury me under the floor -
Stood barking out the words from my cubicle door -
"PXI standard forevermore".

Then this sheriff stood beguiling
My sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance he wore,
`Though you seem so bold and brazen,
Thou,' I said, `can seem so raving.
Claiming answers to be so blazing.
Perplexing me to the very core -
How can you seem to play this game and seem like you are so sure?'
Quoth the sheriff, `PXI more.'

Startled at this simple token
By this rule so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what he utters is suggestion and no more,
For in my past I have had to master
Projects that were a big disaster
Burdened by the tasks of restrictions to the score
And remembering the sorrow that such restrictions bore

But the sheriff still beguiling
All my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of him to my cubicle door;
Then, upon the seat so sinking,
I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking
What this ominous sheriff of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, gaunt, and ominous sheriff of yore
Meant in croaking `PXI more.'

This I sat engaged in guessing,
But no syllable expressing
To the man whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining,
With my head at ease reclining
On the soft chair back lining
That the monitor-light gloated o'er,
He shall press, ah, PXI more?

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! –
Prophet still, if sheriff or devil!
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted,
On this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there an exception? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the sheriff, `PXI more.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! –
Prophet still, if sheriff or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden
If, within the concept maiden,
From whence you get your feigned direction for engineering to explore?
Why must I follow this standard forevermore?'
Quoth the sheriff, `PXI more.'

`Be that word our sign of parting,
Sheriff or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no direction as a token
Of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! –
Quit directing my job from that door!
Take thy direction from out my heart,
And take thy form from my cubicle door!'
Quoth the sheriff, `PXI more.'

And the sheriff, never flitting,
Still is sitting, still is sitting
Bugging me about this standard from within my cubicle door
And his eyes have all the seeming
Of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the monitor-light o'er him streaming
Throws his shadow on the floor;
And my designs from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!