Explaining the missing tiles
The drip from the ceiling (of my cubicle) seemed to be dried up, so I packed up from the loaner cubicle and returned home. Oddly, the keyboard would not work, despite my best intentions and attention. Just about ready to move to plan B (actually, there is no plan B for such things) when the guy with the ladder showed up. HVAC specialist…
He removed tiles from the ceiling, left his ladder and disappeared for the rest of the day. Somewhere close to quitting time (mine, not his) he returned with the diagnosis. Actually, no diagnosis. He thought that the dripping had stopped (keen sense of observation), and let me know that someone else would replace my stacked acoustic tiles. Sometime.
That’s how it goes, in the real world. I’ll probably return to my cubicle, again, and this time the keyboard will work just fine (like it did all day long in the loaner). With any luck, I’ll be retired before something like this happens again, and someone will remember that something had happened like this, before. No other explanation will be available for the discoloured ceiling tiles.
I’ve decided that my life requires a frequency counter. You know, for those times when one of the kids brings his radio home from work, and the channel number is insufficient information. I don’t own a proper scanner, and looking up antenna coordinates on the government website requires more curiosity than I have right now. In a couple of hours, who knows.
Trying to restore an abandoned Toughbook. It has an actual RS-232 connector; otherwise, why bother.
