Most of us are pretty sure Charles is the devil. When we discuss him during breaks we agree that he possesses uniquely evil qualities. None of us has ever seen him; he's simply a voice that comes through our headsets from somewhere in the football-field-size labyrinth of cubes. But it's very easy to picture his particular cube brimming with fire and filled with the tortured souls of the damned. Charles, or Satan, as he's sometimes called, is here to help us. He's one of our mentors.

Mentors are the people we call when we're stuck, when we've tried everything we know how to try and we still can't seem to solve a customer's problem. Mentors were once lowly techs like the rest of us, until they were plucked from our ranks by the hands of management and promoted. Mentors don't actually speak to customers, only other technicians, and because of that their environment is a little less formal and a little more relaxed. It's a coveted job. But because the problems that mentors do hear about tend to be the real stumpers, the ones that take some experience to crack, they have to be sharp, to have answers at their fingertips, or failing that, to know where to look. This is the theory anyway. But Charles is living proof that theory and practice don't often run into each other around here.

It seems logical that if you wanted to find the best, most proficient technicians you could simply look at their call times. Those who routinely turned in the lowest call times must possess superior troubleshooting and problem-solving skills that enable them to handle so many calls so quickly. But those of us who take the calls know that's not true. The most proficient technician with a wealth of knowledge at his fingertips can't hold a candle to your average punter or giver. But if you're just looking for an expert at getting off the phone and getting back on again, you could not do better than Charles.

Charles was rumored to have been promoted after several weeks of turning in average call times under two minutes and repeatedly smashing his own records for the number of calls handled in a day. If anyone was curious how he did it, they didn't show it. He was making the company money hand over fist, so his promotion to a position where he might help others achieve similar results seemed obvious.

A technician needing help dials the mentor line, an inside number where people like Charles wait to hear what's got us stumped and offer a solution based on their superior knowledge and experience. Calling the mentor line is just like calling technical support: You have no control over who you're going to get. After a lengthy hold your call is suddenly answered and a name pops up on your phone, telling you which mentor you've drawn. And if you draw Charles, you don't have a lot of time.

After smashing all the records for technicians Charles is now looking to rewrite the record book for mentors. Mentors tend to average two minutes a call with each technician. Charles is shooting for under 20 seconds. Charles does not want to hear what your problem is, he's already got the answer, and it's the same one he gave when he was a technician. In the fine print of your warranty it states that we will support the computer in its original condition.

This makes sense if you think about it. If you install some sort of aftermarket sound card and fry your motherboard, we can hardly be held responsible for that. But Charles has turned this small piece of fine print into his magic bullet. He simply ferrets out the changes you've made to the system since you've gotten it and then tells you that he can't support the system unless it's in its original condition. His definition of "changes" is extremely broad. If you've installed any software (who hasn't?), hardware, or even downloaded something from the Internet, Charles will not support your computer. In Charles' demonic little world checking your e-mail will void your warranty.

Seeing Charles' name pop up on your phone will make your heart sink. If you try to explain your problem, "I have a customer whose modem is..."

He'll interrupt with, "Tell them we can't support the system unless it's in its original condition."

If you protest or try to finish a sentence, he'll simply repeat The Mantra several times and hang up on you after precisely 20 seconds.

Lots of people have complained about Charles and other mentors and technicians just like him, but management seems unmoved. He's fast, and in the end that's what counts. For the rest of us the only reason to keep Charles around is for the spectacle that ensues when he pops up on Ken's phone and Ken beings wailing and screaming, "Jesus Christ, not this moron again," before hanging up and shouting, "Bullshit! Total bullshit!" The irony is that by yelling and hanging up on Charles, Ken only lowers Charles' average call time that much further. And it means that Ken will have to make yet another call to the mentor line, which will be added to his total and further slow him down, all of which will only serve to convince anyone looking at his stats that the real moron isn't Charles, but Ken.

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