Who, Me? Welcome once more, dear reader, to Who, Me? in which Reg readers like your good self attempt to soften the blow of the working week with tales of techie misadventure.

This week's hero is a reader we’ll Regomize as "Bob" who, many years ago, worked on software for container cranes - the massive machines that load and unload shipping containers from gigantic vessels and keep the world's supply chains linked.

Readers can probably guess that time is money in the shipping game, meaning efficiency improvements or downtime deferrals are valuable - and a moment's productivity lost means money goes overboard.

Bob's software was therefore designed to make the cranes more efficient, and to reduce maintenance costs.

One day, Bob received a call that a crane using his software had ceased to function. Given that other cranes on the same site with the same software were working fine, Bob concluded that it was not a problem he could fix without visiting the site.

He therefore borrowed a hard hat (as required) and headed out. He checked in with the senior tech on site, and they drove (in a clearly marked vehicle) to the recalcitrant crane. After radioing for permission to enter the crane, they crowded into the small elevator and ascended.

At this point it was necessary to don hearing protection, as basically everything on a container crane is loud. There they were, "belly to belly" as Bob put it, essentially yelling at each other about what needed to be done as they made the steady climb to the zenith of the gigantic apparatus.

When they reached the top, a confusing message came across the radio: "Unauthorized persons on the yard! Stop all production!"

Neither Bob nor the senior onsite tech with him thought for one moment that this alert had anything to do with them, so they started troubleshooting the crane and its code. As they worked, the port became more quiet - it seemed some kind of shutdown was in progress - which they understood was bad news for the port, but good news for Bob and his mate as it’s hard to debug things amid a din.

Not long into this effort, Bob learned the reason for the shutdown: People - namely Bob - had been spotted walking on one of the cranes without proper hi-viz vests. The senior tech of course had his fluorescent orange garment suitably arrayed, but Bob was wearing ordinary office garb, supplemented only by a hard hat and ear protection. From a workplace safety perspective, he may as well have been naked.

(We pause here to note that someone in the site office, which was driving distance away and at ground level, managed to spot Bob standing on the top of a massive container crane. He must have at least been a little bit visible, right?)

Nonetheless, a company director had to be summoned from home to report to the site, and make sure all was above board. He did so, and gave the go-ahead for everyone to return to work. Apologies were made to all the crane operators who had lost precious time, but thankfully they were the forgiving kind.

Since then, Bob has never forgotten to wear hi-viz when required.

We're always big on stories about making one little mistake leading to a ripple effect for big consequences. If you happen to have such a tale knocking about in your museum of recollections, share it with us in an email to Who, Me? and we might immortalize your adventures on some future Monday. ®

https://www.theregister.com//2024/08/19/who_me/