Now, please hold while I patch your router, block that ransomware, and stop Gerry from downloading malware. Again.
Oh, you think being a network and cybersecurity engineer is cool? Glamorous, even? You imagine dark rooms lit by cascading lines of code, high-fiving your team after foiling international hackers, and maybe a dramatic “We’re in!” moment every other Tuesday?
Yeah, that’s cute. The reality? It’s more like quietly preventing your office printer from joining a botnet while everyone else is too busy blaming you for blocking TikTok during lunch.
“The Internet Is Down” – The Modern Bat Signal
You know you’ve made it in your field when someone screams “THE INTERNET IS DOWN” like they’ve discovered a dead body. Suddenly, you’re Sherlock Holmes, Gandalf, and tech support for Sharon’s smart toaster all at once. It’s not even a real outage—turns out someone tripped over the Ethernet cable again. But hey, it must be your fault, right?
Also, why is it that every time you tighten security, people act like you’ve personally unplugged their happiness?
- “Why can’t I access this weird .ru site anymore?”
Because it’s hosting malware, Gerry. - “Why do I need to use two-factor authentication now?”
Because your password is literally ‘winter2020’. It’s 2025, Gerry.
Congratulations! You’re Invisible (Until Something Breaks)
Let’s talk about recognition. When you successfully mitigate a DDoS attack, block a phishing campaign, or secure your company’s network from a zero-day exploit, what do you get?
Nothing. Not even a mildly enthusiastic thumbs-up in a Teams chat.
But heaven forbid you misconfigure one ACL for 30 seconds—suddenly, you’re the villain in everyone’s origin story. The entire office acts like you just took down NASA.
Meanwhile, Gerry’s still emailing you screenshots of error messages printed out and scanned back in as PDFs. Truly heroic.
Job Description: Do Everything. Know Everything. Be Psychic.
You’re expected to be fluent in every protocol, tool, and buzzword from TCP/IP to SIEM to “zero trust”—which, ironically, is exactly how much trust anyone has in your explanations.
You must anticipate future threats like a digital Nostradamus, explain technical concepts to executives using PowerPoint clipart, and still have time to configure port security so someone doesn’t plug their smart coffee maker into a VLAN.
All this, while the finance department denies your request for a $500 firewall upgrade… but drops $2K on team hoodies.
The Sweet, Silent Wins
But here’s the thing. Despite the chaos, sarcasm, and caffeine-induced eye twitching—you kinda love it.
There’s a strange joy in seeing clean logs, knowing you caught an intrusion before anyone noticed, or writing a script that auto-blocks sketchy IPs faster than you can say “ThreatLocker.”
You’re not doing it for praise (though that’d be nice). You do it because you’re the last line of defense between the company and a very expensive headline.
And deep down, you know this: if everything is running smoothly, you’re doing your job perfectly.
Just don’t expect anyone else to notice. Unless the printer goes offline again. Then it’s back to square one.
So here’s to you, Network Sorcerer.
The VLAN whisperer.
The unsung hero of patch Tuesdays and phishing drills.
You may never get a standing ovation…
…but at least your firewall rules are flawless.
Probably.