Jan 5
If you put tomfoolery into a computer, nothing comes out of it but tomfoolery. But this tomfoolery, having passed through a very expensive machine, is somehow ennobled and no-one dares criticize it.
Pierre Gallois
Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs had a problem. A very serious problem. One which could only be solved by his very junior agent Timothy McGee.
Which would just not do.
His computer, the one he could not for the life of him figure out how to use or glare into submission, had got a bacteria or a virus, one of the two. His agents would happily use the correct words and know exactly what to do, but he did not.
And it frustrated him. He was supposed to be the one in charge, the one to guide and teach them. The one who had the most time in service, the one who had seen everything at least once and knew exactly how to handle each and every scenario out in the field. But when it came to a poxy computer, he had to resist the urge to shoot it.
He really did not understand why he had to use the technology. Admittedly it made his agents hand in their reports sooner, which was a bonus. Yet he couldn't see why he was not allowed to handwrite his own. His handwriting was legible enough when he wanted it to be.
Resisting the urge to sigh and thereby let his team see his weakness, he rose from his chair and headed out for more coffee. "Fix it, McGee," he ordered, pointing at the infernal machine as he passed. Caffeine would calm him down.