Some clients want their tech fixed. Others want to play God with admin rights and cry when their digital kingdom burns. Meet Janet, Ethan, and Camille—the unholy trinity of “I saw it on Facebook, so I’m basically an IT expert.” For the low, low price of free, I gave them enterprise-grade support, only for them to yeet their systems into chaos and demand I sweep up the ashes. This is the story of what happens when you give toddlers a digital chainsaw and expect miracles. Spoiler: It’s a fucking bloodbath.
1. Janet: The Queen of Clicking Shiny Buttons
Janet runs a small company, but her ego’s big enough to fill a data center. She got free IT support—enterprise-grade, no less—because I’m apparently a masochist who thought “pro bono” meant “please break my soul.” Did Janet say thank you? Nah, her favorite pastime was demanding admin rights “just in case,” then clicking every button in the dashboard like a kid in a candy store with a sledgehammer.
Result? Her email server went nuclear. “HELP! MY EMAIL’S BROKEN AGAIN!” she wailed at 3 a.m., her voice dripping with the panic of someone who just realized Outlook isn’t a slot machine. “No, I have no idea what I did!” she added, as if her admin access wasn’t the smoking gun. When I politely explained that admin rights aren’t needed for sending cat memes, she hit me with: “But I saw on Facebook that I should control everything!” Oh, Janet, bless your heart—you saw it on Facebook, so it must be gospel, right?
2. Ethan & Camille: The Midnight DNS Disaster Duo
Enter Ethan and Camille, the dynamic duo who make Janet look like a tech savant. Their onboarding was smoother than a fresh SSD—until they got the itch to “take control.” Picture this: It’s midnight, and these two are in the DNS dashboard, clicking like they’re auditioning for a speedrun of *Who Can Break the Internet Fastest*. Seconds later, their website’s down, their email’s vaporized, and their phones are blowing up my inbox like a DDoS attack.
“WHY IS EVERYTHING BROKEN?! FIX IT NOW!” they screamed in unison, as if I’d personally sabotaged their domain to ruin their Etsy shop. Never mind that the “outage” was 100% their fault—logs don’t lie, but Ethan and Camille sure tried. “We didn’t do anything!” they insisted, while the audit trail showed more reckless clicks than a 90s porn pop-up spree. They wanted it fixed yesterday, for free, with a side of groveling apologies. Yeah, no.
3. The Case for Not Handing Out Admin Rights Like Halloween Candy
Janet, Ethan, and Camille are living proof that giving non-techies admin access is like handing a toddler a chainsaw and blaming the carpenter when the house collapses. Admin rights aren’t a personality trait—they’re a responsibility, and these three treated them like a free pass to a digital demolition derby. Janet’s email server? Fried because she “needed” to tweak settings she didn’t understand. Ethan and Camille’s website? Toast because they thought DNS stood for “Do Not Stop Clicking.”
I tried to warn them. “You don’t need admin access for daily ops,” I said, like a zookeeper begging a tourist not to climb into the lion cage. But no, they insisted, clutching their Facebook “research” like it was a PhD in cybersecurity. The result? A smoldering pile of digital wreckage and three clients who think “free support” means “fix my fuck-ups on demand.”
4. The Indignant Comeback: “But You’re Here for Me!”
After torching their own systems, Janet, Ethan, and Camille came crawling back, wide-eyed and indignant, expecting white-glove service to resurrect their self-inflicted disasters. “I thought you were here for me!” Janet whined, as if I’d signed up to be her personal IT therapist. Ethan and Camille weren’t much better, demanding I “make it right” while conveniently forgetting they’d turned their dashboard into a war zone.
When I pointed out that free support doesn’t cover 24/7 emergency repair for user error, they lost it. “You’re abandoning us!” they cried, as if I’d left their data to die in a ditch. Here’s a newsflash, gang: Free support means I keep your shit running, not that I’m your digital seatbelt when you decide to drunk-drive through the control panel.
“This is OUTRAGEOUS! I deserve FULL ACCESS and INSTANT FIXES! You’re a HEARTLESS TECH BRO!” —Janet, probably, in her 1-star Google Review
5. The Punchline: Chaos Is a Great Teacher
The punchline? These three thought “admin access” was their God-given right, but all they got was a masterclass in why IT pros gatekeep the keys. Janet’s still sending emails from a Hotmail account because her server’s toast. Ethan and Camille’s website? Redirecting to a 404 page that screams “user error” louder than their tantrums. And me? I’m sipping whiskey, laughing at the audit logs that prove I’m not the asshole here.
They wanted enterprise-grade results without enterprise-grade responsibility. Instead, they got a crash course in “don’t touch what you don’t understand.” Next time they beg for admin rights, I’m sending them a YouTube tutorial and a prayer. Good luck, champs—you’ll need it.
Moral of the Story
Want enterprise-grade results? Let the IT pro drive the damn bus. Want admin rights? Get ready for a bumpy ride—broken email, downed websites, and a one-way ticket to Regret City. Admin access isn’t a toy, and free support isn’t a blank check for your DIY disasters. Next time, listen to your tech guy before you click “delete all” and cry about it.
To every IT warrior out there: Lock down those dashboards like Fort Knox. To every Janet, Ethan, and Camille: Stay in your lane, or your next email will come from a typewriter.
18+ Section: Admin Access Fetishists and the Art of Fucking Yourself Over
Janet wanted admin rights like a camgirl chasing a whale’s credit card. “GIVE ME CONTROL!” she’d scream, as if I’d locked her out of her own OnlyFans. Meanwhile, Ethan and Camille treated the DNS dashboard like a late-night Grindr hookup—reckless, messy, and guaranteed to end in tears. The result? Their systems got fucked harder than a VPN without MFA, and they had the audacity to call me for a free cleanup.
“Why’s my cloud so HARD?” Janet whined, while Ethan and Camille sent 2 a.m. texts: “OUR SITE’S DOWN, YOU DICK!” Spoiler: It’s down because you two fingered the settings like they owed you money. I’d rather debug a 90s dial-up modem than deal with their digital BDSM fetish for “full access.” Newsflash, gang: Admin rights aren’t a safe word—you don’t get to scream “FIX IT!” when you’ve already screwed yourself.