Hark ye all seekers of IT’s wisdom and listen to the sequel of the true story I have recounted so far for you.
After the ghastly daemon mysqld (d for daemon) was thwarted back to subservience, Yourstruly had some free time to cast about his star charts and do some cthonic calculations. Lo and behold the abacus revealed a well hidden bottomless pit. The red ink lined pit of corporate terror. The almost cabalistic numbers showed that the castle was losing approximately one Eyr per prepaid card sold. Yourstruly knew that the chief of crooks and manhandlers wanted to enter the market so he was selling at almost cost. Unfortunately he had not foreseen the counter-allied castle that was collecting our calls and receiving monies for that aforementioned collection. That fee was never drawn with red ink , but the total was drawn to the red ink pit.
Yourstruly raised his considerable brow in disbelief and fired off an imp with a warning eee-mail to the chief of crooks and manhandlers as well as the castle treasurer. Time went by and cards were sold and Yourstruly kept reminding people of the numbers to no effect at all.
Suddenly one cold and harshly lit morning the inquisition was illuminated. They slithered down to Yourstruly’s officium collecting the treasurer within their mass and in a single chorus announced a full inquisition on why the castle was grossing big , yet losing Eyrs. We have lost nearly two lakh of Eyrs this past month they chanted in unison. Upon hearing that Yourstruly took upon himself the semblance of an innocent child and asked: Perchance has our castle shipped twenty myriads of far talking cards within this period? Perplexed was the Inquisition that Yourstruly had such insightful knowledge of the daemonic ways of the treasury.
Undaunted and full of its status and powers to twist hands, the inquisition started to ask for charts and reports, so Yourstrully started to script scriptures on bashed shells and talk the arcane language of See and QueL. The deamon mysqld (d for daemon) upon hearing his native language of See and QueL responded gladly. Reports were presented, drawn and redrawn , and pressed and imp-mailed. And Yourstruly was discovered to have an red ink drawing insect in his code and was chastised. Yet the small insect was not enough to blanket the elephant of losses. Report after report , chart after chart, incantation after incantation it became clear that the loss was about one Eyr per card. Upon realizing that, the inquisition unrolled into a fog and vanished into thin air, leaving yourstruly’s abacus reset, just in case.
Eee-mail: Imp delivered mail, imps go eee while traveling through the twists of the castle’s metal wires.
Infernal/cthonic calculations: Mostly multiplication and addition, simple stuff really.
Eyr: oh come on !
The chief of crooks and manhandlers: The manager of the sales team.
The treasurer: The CFO
Yourstruly: Yours Truly
Myriad: Greek for One Hundred hundreds
Lakh: Hindu for ten myriads.
Bashed shells: a wink at the unix wizards.