Mo grabbed his laptop and went out on the porch to plug in, check his e-mail and see what the latest curveball coming from Cupertino would be. Being an outdoorsy sort of geek, Mohammed had an Ethernet drop running from the hub in his office to the porch. He had an ISDN modem hooked up through a Linux box that served as his main workstation, mail server and firewall.

He had six new messages since yesterday afternoon, two of which he would have to take care of today. With the afternoon set aside as profit-making, Mo thought about taking a ride by the lake before going off to clients. He called, and Ming came bounding in from the yard next door. He fed the cat and was just about to lace up his cleats when the phone rang.

It was Monica Gutstein at Jennings, Dorfmann and Pope, his biggest client.

"Mo, that printer you set up in the partnersÕ officeÉ? Mr. Jennings canÕt get it to print."

Mo rolled his eyes and walked into the kitchen to get a water bottle.

"Monica is Jack Pope in the office?"

"No," Monica replied.

"Is JackÕs computer on?"

"No, of course not."

"So, my dear, it then stands to reason that the printer that is connected to JackÕs computer -- which is off -- which is in turn connected to the network through which Henry Jennings sends his documents to be printed cannot be reached." Mo was trying with limited success not to let his voice drip with disdain.

"Oh yeah, you told us that. Right," she replied meekly.

"Now as I said when I hooked it up for you. If they want to have a private printer in their office to share, PopeÕs workstation has to be on all the time or at least during work hours."

"Yeah, but he turns it off because heÕs worried that someone will look at his stuff when heÕs not here."

"And right he is, the Windows 95 screensaver password is a joke. I told you guys we could set up an HP JetDirect print server and set privileges for the printer and Pope didnÕt want to spend the money. So, if you want I can talk to Jennings and try to explain this to him again."

"Okay, hang on. Let me see," she said and put him on hold.

Mohammed leafed through the New York Times as he listened to Dark Side of the Moon via their music-on-hold system for the millionth time. He had little hope that he would sell an HP print server and a couple of hours install time today. Monica returned.

"He says heÕs busy but will call you later," she said.

Mo knew perfectly well that neither Henry Jennings nor Jack Pope would return his call. For them technology was simply a commodity, a cost of doing business. You paid as little for it as possible and it was expected to work. If stuff didnÕt work it was clearly a problem with the technologist Š in this case Mohammed, since under the commodity mindset, JD&P would not hire a full-time MIS guy, even though they made several million a year and were completely dependent on technology Š and never the fault of the user, especially if the user was a partner.

Mo didnÕt care. He was in a no-lose situation. If they followed his advice, he made money on the job, things worked well and he went on to work with other clients. If they did not work well, he made less money on the job but slowly bled them dry trying to keep the make-do, lowest-cost system going. What a racket.

"Right. Tell him I am always available for his call." Mo said in his most professional, peer-to-the-secretary-of-a-peer voice.

"Okay Mohammed. Thanks."

They broke the connection. Mo fetched laptop from the porch and grabbed his helmet off the peg by the door. He looked over and observed Ming dozing in the window amongst the potted plants. He looked up at Mo with contented slitted eyes. Mo walked over and stroked the tabby between the ears.

"Yeah, buddy. Life is good isnÕt it?"