About a man named “Misha-Catastrophe”. Those who recognize themselves should not be offended.
In ancient times, when the Internet has already appeared, and DSL is not yet, took (on the recommendation of a very large person) to work in one of the Moscow internet providers under the name of Misha as an assistant of the Aitishnikovs.

Misha’s skills were negative in all areas. That is, he not only did not cope with the assignments, but had the talent to perform the task so that after that it was necessary to eliminate the consequences of his activities, and entrust the work to someone else. If you add to this the initiative character, then a week later, the word "catastrophe" was attached to his name. But the person who recommended it could not say the word “no.” So Misha continued to work.
There were many episodes, I will tell you about the most epic.

One of the first strikes was on accounting. After replacing the cartridge, the laser printer said, “J-J-J-J!And then “U-U-U!“He swallowed the bulbs and covered the whole room with a thin layer of powder. Interiors, documents and other items are all small things. Remember what kind of toilets you used to go to work in the 1990s? What part of the salary was paid for? But a dozen angry ladies can defeat two or three divisions of the Wehrmacht... From death, Misha saved the deputy director personally, closing in his office, clearly remembering a very large man. The chief sysadmin then struggled with this printer for a long time and even called the manufacturer to understand how this could have happened. But it still remains a mystery.

The management made conclusions and moved Misha to another front of work.
In the other wing of the building successfully closed the next "Rog and Copy", giving up their furniture in a cheap way. The task of moving the one was entrusted to Misha, the good of the furniture was not heavy and for transportation was in the presence of a board with wheels, on which one person could quietly carry even a closet of medium-sized sizes.
But “peaceful” is not for the creative Misha.

Now imagine the picture: You are solid customers and came to a no less solid firm to sign a contract for a lot of money, and you are carried by the corridor with a decent speed with a steam car with crazy turning eyes, who first tries to change the trajectory of movement, pushing off the limbs from the walls, and then begins to move your hands with a scream: "Ly-y-y-y-y! Take a day off!! You understand that this is not a steam car, but a closet and a pair of tables on wheels, but nevertheless, you really want to be somewhere else now. There were no victims. The customers turned out to be proofful and managed to jump back. They drank coffee with cognac, the contract was signed, and Misha was given a chance to go.

At that time, many sectarians walked through the streets, entering the houses and offices, often very annoyingly annoying fellow citizens. Since the company was in a large (audience!) The office (the money) In the building, the mass of their visits was approximately like in the car service after the first ice. How they entered the building through the guard was unclear, otherwise than with the help of the gods to whom they prayed. They got all so that there was no more strength.

And one day, the director, passing through the main corridor, saw the following picture: Misha stood surrounded by seven or eight followers of the next "one-true-learning" and told them something very emotional, helping himself with his hands and feet. The audience circled him and caught every word. Some had their mouth opened, and they obviously forgot about the fact that they need to blink from time to time. Walking around this massover on the wall, the director caught a part of the target monologue: "...why did you get it? Nietzsche wrote about it. “Have you not read?” By the edge of the eye, the director for the first time in his life saw how a group of people literally a choir, very disciplined and synchronously negatively whipped their heads. “But here’s another example...” did not let them remember Misha. The director went on...

And then an idea was born in his head. Any provider has a customer support service, or in the bourgeois: "call center". The work is done in hell. You have to be nervous like the Dalai Lama. Hundreds of customers per day with a variety of questions. Moreover, 90% of them belong to the category of "simply talk", only the level of emotional boost varies... And the director made the only right decision. He managed a very successful Internet provider.

For many years, customers of this same provider could hear a young and vivid voice in the tube: "Good morning. My name is Michael. How can I make your life easier?” His colleagues loved him (and one of them gave him a son, and then two more daughters), because he could ruin the situation even with the most scandalous clients. And on really difficult technical issues, he switched to the second line of support.

There are no bad workers, there are workers not in their place.