Federal IT: Raiders of the Lost Asset

Federal IT: Raiders of the Lost Asset

There are days when I wonder if I am still working in IT.

Technically, yes.

I am a federal IT guy. Systems administration. Enterprise support. Government laptops. Networks. Software. Drivers. User accounts. Security policies. All the respectable shit people imagine when somebody says they work in IT.

Then there are days like today.

Days when I realize that I may actually be working in logistics, archaeology, animal control, international asset recovery, anger management, cybersecurity, shipping and receiving, and occasionally aerospace engineering.

Because apparently, somewhere along the way, UPS became part of systems administration.

Welcome to Federal IT.

Or, as I have now decided to call it:

Federal IT: Raiders of the Lost Asset.

And apparently I am Romeo Croft.

The Update

A government laptop has a life cycle.

Not the life cycle written in some clean PowerPoint presentation created by somebody in management who has never actually touched one of these fucking things.

I mean the real life cycle.

It usually begins peacefully enough.

A federal employee gets a laptop.

The laptop works.

Everybody is happy.

Then Enterprise decides that peace has lasted long enough.

An operating system update gets released.

Maybe some random software package gets updated.

Maybe the standard government image changes.

Whatever it is, Enterprise pushes the update.

The update lands on the laptop.

And somewhere deep inside that machine, a driver looks at the new policy and decides:

Fuck this.

Now Wi-Fi stops working.

Bluetooth forgets what Bluetooth is.

The audio driver vanishes.

The second monitor decides retirement sounds nice.

And the docking station?

Fuck your docking station specifically.

Yesterday everything worked.

Today the user arrives at IT looking confused.

It worked yesterday.

Yes.

Of course it fucking worked yesterday.

Yesterday it had not received The Update.

Sometimes the problem gets even better because certain drivers require policy approval before they can work properly.

So Enterprise updates the operating system, but the hardware and the policy are apparently not on speaking terms.

And now I am the marriage counselor.

The Archaeological Dig

Then we have another breed of government machine.

The prehistoric survivor.

Some bastard out there somehow dodged every equipment refresh known to civilization.

Maybe somebody forgot to update the asset list.

Maybe some ancient switchboard still says the machine is somewhere else.

Maybe the refresh team never found the user.

Maybe the user became incredibly skilled at hiding.

Whatever happened, eventually somebody looks at the records and discovers that somewhere inside the federal government there is apparently still a laptop running Windows XP.

Possibly Windows 95.

At that point, I am no longer doing IT.

I am conducting an archaeological excavation.

Some federal employee has apparently been calculating the future of a massive enterprise using technology that remembers dial-up internet.

Then somebody finally realizes the machine exists.

And somebody has to retrieve it.

Guess who.

Romeo Croft.

Raiders of the Lost Asset.

Government Laptop Versus Automobile

Software problems are nothing compared to what users physically do to these laptops.

I once had a user come to me asking for a replacement laptop.

Okay.

What happened to the old one?

Well...

He was leaving a parking garage.

He had his government laptop inside the laptop bag.

And apparently the safest place he could think of to temporarily place this piece of government property was directly behind the wheel of his vehicle.

Then he got into the car.

And drove over it.

Literally.

Not metaphorically.

Not accidentally dropped.

Not bumped.

Not scratched.

The laptop got run over by a fucking car.

Then he came to IT.

Can I get a replacement?

Sure, bro.

Let me check whether accidental vehicular execution is covered by warranty.

The Government-Issued Porn Theater

Then we have the old pervs.

Some people apparently look at the government-issued laptop and think:

You know what this secure federal system needs?

Porn.

Because apparently their personal laptop is not good enough.

Their cellphone is not good enough.

Their television is not good enough.

No.

Apparently free wired government internet must provide some kind of special high-definition experience unavailable to ordinary civilians.

I do not know.

I do not ask.

I do not want to know.

And if I suspect one of those machines has been used for that purpose, I am suddenly very interested in having the user put the fucking thing inside the box themselves.

International Fugitive Laptop

Some laptops go international.

Without permission.

A federal employee goes on vacation outside the United States and decides the government laptop should come too.

Why?

I have no idea.

You're on vacation.

Who the fuck are you planning to email?

Travelocity?

If your leave balance is wrong, that is your supervisor's problem.

Go sit on a beach.

Eat something.

Look at the ocean.

Stop checking Outlook.

But no.

Somewhere across the globe, a government laptop is sitting in somebody's hotel room enjoying an unauthorized vacation.

Meanwhile cybersecurity is probably somewhere wondering why a machine assigned to an office in the United States suddenly appears to be sightseeing overseas.

The Cat-Hair Data Center

Then there are the family pets.

I once retrieved a laptop because it would not turn on.

Fine.

Normal IT issue.

I opened the back panel to get to the system board.

Cat hair.

Cat hair everywhere.

Apparently the laptop had become part of the household ecosystem.

I do not know whether the cat was sleeping on it, inside it, underneath it, or secretly performing tier-two hardware support.

But that motherboard looked like it had been living under a couch for six years.

OneDrive: The Forbidden Folder

Then there are the users who ignore every instruction about backing up their files.

We tell them:

Use OneDrive.

Use the shared drive.

Back up your fucking files somewhere other than the local machine.

There is literally a directory with a name that might as well say:

ONE DRIVE - YOUR FUCKING NAME HERE.

But somehow this remains mysterious technology.

So the user keeps everything locally.

Important documents.

Work files.

Years of information.

Everything.

Then something happens to the machine.

Power problem.

Hardware problem.

Electrical disaster.

Whatever.

And suddenly they look at IT as though we personally hid their files inside another dimension.

Where is my stuff?

Where did you save it?

On the laptop.

Of course you did.

The Retirement Home Laptop

Some government laptops find really nice homes.

Beautiful homes.

Quiet homes.

Retirement homes.

The federal employee retires.

The laptop apparently retires with them.

Nobody sees the machine again.

Months go by.

Maybe years.

The battery dies peacefully somewhere inside a comfortable house.

The laptop sits there thinking it has finally escaped government service.

Then one day somebody looks at an asset report.

And there it is.

Still assigned.

Still missing.

Still government property.

Romeo Croft gets another mission.

Go retrieve the artifact.

Airborne Government Assets

Then we have what may be my favorite category.

Airborne Government Assets.

Federal employees sometimes become very annoyed with upper management.

And some of these employees are military veterans.

Not the perfectly adjusted veteran who walked through separation, passed every medical exam, collected the DD214, and quietly entered civilian life.

No.

I am talking about the other kind.

The GI Joe federal employee who has thirty years of government service, two years until retirement, enough experience to know exactly how much management bullshit he can tolerate, and precisely zero remaining interest in pretending everything is fine.

I watched a lead tech lose it once.

This man was enormous.

Something like six-foot-twelve.

Three hundred pounds.

Long military history.

Decades of federal service.

The kind of person who had already survived more organizational changes than most people have survived software updates.

And one day...

That internal circuit breaker flipped.

Cubicle wall gets kicked.

Keyboard goes airborne.

Docking station follows.

Then the laptop discovers something no HP engineer ever intended:

Flight.

That fucking laptop grew wings in about two seconds.

Everyone looked.

Nobody said a damn thing.

Because sometimes wisdom means recognizing that this is not the correct moment to discuss asset-handling procedures.

So somewhere in the imaginary incident report:

Asset condition: damaged.

Cause: unscheduled flight event.

Altitude: approximately one cubicle partition.

Carrier: unknown.

Pilot: senior federal employee.

Landing: uncontrolled.

Asset status:

Airborne.

That laptop did not get thrown.

It got reassigned to another cubicle without transportation authorization.

The Proper Refresh

Then we come to the proper refresh.

This is where things really become stupid.

The employee is actually due for a new laptop.

Everything is legitimate.

The replacement gets ordered.

UPS brings me the box.

Some mysterious process happens.

My name gets signed somewhere inside the UPS system.

I schedule an appointment with the user.

The user arrives.

I present their shiny new machine.

Usually it looks almost exactly like the old machine.

Maybe we moved from an HP G9 to an HP G10.

Congratulations.

Civilization has advanced one number.

Maybe you got another eight gigabytes of RAM.

Everything else looks almost exactly the fucking same.

Then the user looks at the laptop.

Looks at me.

Looks back at the laptop.

And asks:

How do you turn it on?

Face palm.

Bro.

It is the same fucking laptop.

The power button remains committed to its historic responsibility.

Press it.

The machine turns on.

This is ancient technology.

We have mastered it.

The Dangerous Question

Then comes the dangerous question.

Can I keep the old one for a few days to make sure everything transferred from OneDrive?

And sometimes Romeo Croft makes a tactical mistake.

Fine.

Keep it for a few days.

But you are responsible for shipping the old one back.

Sounds reasonable.

Everybody understands.

Everybody agrees.

Three months later...

Somewhere in the Cybersecurity Universe, possibly Memphis, a red light appears.

A retired machine is still walking around the network.

The system checks the IP.

Checks the asset status.

Checks the records.

And somewhere, somebody says:

Why the fuck is this retired laptop still walking around federal property when it is supposed to be in the federal junkyard?

Then my phone rings.

Fine.

Let me fetch the fucking thing.

So Romeo Croft begins another expedition.

I find the user.

Bro.

You cannot have two government laptops.

It is taboo.

You have the new machine.

Give me the old one.

Eventually the user gives up.

And sometimes you hear something ridiculous enough that you immediately reconsider touching the device.

Maybe the user jokes that they still have not watched porn on the old one yet.

Perfect.

Wonderful.

New procedure.

You put that fucking thing inside the box.

I am not touching it.

Amazon

Then apparently some government laptops may even find themselves on Amazon.

Okay.

That part might not be completely true.

But it is fucking funny.

Somewhere online:

Used HP EliteBook. Good condition.

Battery holds charge.

Minor cosmetic damage.

May contain remnants of federal policy.

BitLocker status unknown.

Previous owner possibly Dennis from Accounting.

And somewhere inside cybersecurity:

Why the fuck is retired asset 004781 connecting from a Prime account?

Call Romeo.

UPS Has Apparently Become IT

Which brings us back to today.

Another missing asset.

Another retrieval.

Another successful expedition by Romeo Croft.

I got the laptop.

I boxed that fucker.

Not gently.

Not lovingly.

I boxed it like I had emotionally severed custody.

Then I taped the shipping label onto that thing like an abandoned child.

That label is not coming off.

UPS could drop that box from low Earth orbit and that shipping label would still be attached.

And yes.

I have my own government UPS account.

I also have the UPS driver's phone number.

Apparently I ship so many government assets that the UPS driver may actually believe I am some kind of management.

Nope.

I am just the poor bastard who found another laptop.

At this point, UPS is officially part of my systems administration stack.

Active Directory.

Endpoint management.

Enterprise imaging.

Asset recovery.

Driver troubleshooting.

UPS Logistics Integration.

And once the laptop is boxed, labeled, scanned, and placed into the hands of UPS...

It enters what I call:

The Void.

Where does it go?

I do not know.

What happens next?

Not my fucking problem.

Asset received.

Disposition pending.

Location unknown.

Goodbye.

Meanwhile, on the Sixth Floor

And here is probably the funniest part about today.

I had just finished retrieving this missing government laptop.

I boxed it.

Taped it.

Prepared it for shipment.

The federal asset ecosystem was doing what it does.

Cybersecurity was cybersecuring.

UPS was UPS-ing.

Government machines were wandering the earth.

Users were probably backing over something in a parking garage.

Some retired laptop somewhere was trying to escape.

And I sat in my office on the sixth floor in Rockville, looking outside through those large windows...

And my brain calmly switched subjects.

Jarvis.

We need a new book cover.

That is apparently how my mind works.

Federal infrastructure can be collapsing behind me.

Some government laptop could be airborne.

Cybersecurity alarms could be flashing.

UPS could be calling.

And I am standing there like Batman inside Wayne Tower while Gotham burns outside the windows.

Joker is destroying downtown.

Penguin is running some criminal operation.

Poison Ivy has taken over three city blocks.

The Bat-Signal is glowing over Gotham.

Batman looks out over the destruction.

Then quietly says:

Alfred...

Does my cowl look wrong?

I think one of the bat ears is shorter.

That is me.

Except instead of the Batcave, I have a federal office.

Instead of Alfred, I have Jarvis.

And instead of the cowl:

Jarvis...

I think we need to change the dimensions of the spine for Book 3.

The government laptop I just recovered?

Already boxed.

Already labeled.

Already dead to me.

The book cover?

That shit needs attention.

Apparently I care more about three pixels on a book spine than the emotional welfare of a government-issued HP laptop.

Priorities.

And Then...

It is finally time to leave.

The laptop is boxed.

The label is attached.

Romeo Croft has mentally clocked out.

UPS awaits.

The Void is ready to receive another sacrifice.

I am already thinking about getting the hell out of the office.

Then...

Dun.

Dun.

Duuuuuuuuunnnn.

A Teams message appears.

A user.

Of course.

She tells me she needs help.

Apparently, after an update, her laptop started displaying an error message.

Okay.

How long has it been happening?

A month.

A fucking month.

At this point, I have already spent the day discussing exactly what happens when Enterprise updates decide that perfectly functional government laptops have enjoyed life for too long.

So I ask the obvious question.

What's the asset barcode?

Because if this machine is old enough and already due for replacement, I am not spending the final minutes of my day conducting open-heart surgery on a laptop that has already spent a month begging for retirement.

Give me the barcode.

I'll check it.

If it is old enough, I am pronouncing the damn thing dead and ordering you another one.

Problem solved.

Except...

She cannot find the barcode.

Of course she cannot.

Now the laptop has apparently entered witness protection.

A few minutes ago I was dealing with Raiders of the Lost Asset.

Now I have:

The Anonymous Asset.

Somewhere on this government laptop is a barcode identifying exactly what it is.

I know it is there.

The system knows it is there.

The laptop knows it is there.

The user?

Nope.

I am sitting there thinking:

Fantastic.

The machine is already dying, and now it has decided to erase its own identity.

Then suddenly she finds it.

And sends me a message.

Oh, I'm sorry.

I'm blind.

...

Face palm.

At least she admitted it.

The barcode had not disappeared.

The asset was not anonymous.

The laptop had not joined witness protection.

It was sitting there the entire fucking time.

Probably staring directly at her like:

Ma'am. I have been labeled this whole time.

And there I am.

End of the workday.

One hand mentally reaching for the door.

Another government laptop preparing for retirement.

Another replacement waiting to be ordered.

Another user rediscovering the ancient art of looking at a sticker.

Romeo Croft's shift continues.

• • •

Somehow, this ridiculous series of events gave me a new LinkedIn headline.

Published Author. | Federal IT: Raiders of the Lost Asset | Gym Before Sunrise on Almost No Sleep. | Relationship Philosopher by Breakfast. | Parking-Lot Creative Director by Lunch. | Batman at Night. | Coffee?

And for once, LinkedIn might actually be accurate.

Because some days I really am an IT administrator.

Other days I am an asset archaeologist with shipping privileges.

Half IT.

Half logistics.

Half federal archaeology.

Yes.

That is three halves.

That is federal math.

And apparently the story always ends the same way.

A laptop breaks.

A user appears.

Cybersecurity eventually notices.

Romeo Croft retrieves the artifact.

UPS gets a box.

The machine enters The Void.

And just when I think the day is finally over...

Teams notification.

Son of a bitch.

Coffee anyone?

☕

Meanwhile, somewhere in Wayne Tower...

Source & Citation

Entry Title: Federal IT: Raiders of the Lost Asset

Subtitle: Some days I am an IT administrator. Other days I am an asset archaeologist with shipping privileges.

Category: Comedy Relief

Record Type: RNP Journal Entry / Federal IT / Comedy Relief / Work Chronicle

Date: August 12, 2026

Project: The RomNote Project

Author / Voice: Romeo Imbien Mesina

Audio: Public NotebookLM audio conversation preserved in the RomNote media archive.

Source Note: The complete formatted RNP journal document is preserved as a protected original through the existing RomNote request-access system.

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