Repeat After Me: I Hate Computers
by Russ Heitz
I am a writer so don’t get me wrong. I do not want to start using my dusty old IBM Selectric again, or one of those tiny, sticky, clunky WipeOut bottles. Nor do I want to use carbon paper to make multiple submission copies of my manuscripts. And I definitely do not want to re-type an entire page every time I hit a wrong key. Especially when I’m being crowded by an impending deadline or an antsy editor.
So please, can’t anyone design a computer that is dependable, consistent, and most of all, easily fixable?
The problem began when I started getting error messages. One message informed me that my write drive no longer worked. My computer didn’t seem to know that I had just loaded a fresh new CD into its drive to save some files. Then, a second later, another message popped up. It said I could no longer access the Internet.
The question was: did the glitch that kept me from getting online have anything to do with my write drive’s inability to recognize a perfectly good CD?
That didn’t seem likely. But you never know. Computers can do all sorts of weird things, right?
My online provider is, of course, my local phone company. I won’t mention their name mainly because I do not want my phone service abruptly chopped off. Nor do I have the time or money to defend myself from a nasty lawsuit.
But here’s a hint. My provider is the kind of company that has outsourced all of its online tech support to Third World Countries and—surprise!—the only kind of tech support they offered was online tech support.
That’s where the fun really began.
After wandering through my phone company’s numerous multi-level menus, and waiting on hold for several lengthy periods of time, I finally got Joe Singh from India. When I told him about my problems he assured me he’d have them fixed in no time.
He didn’t. Instead, after an hour of trying, he transferred me to “another department.”
That’s when I was connected to Betty Milanos from the Philippines. She assured me, sweetly, that she’d have the problems fixed in no time.
But she couldn’t do it either.Steve Gonzales from Mexico City had a little more luck. He got me online again—more or less consistently—but then my security program started acting funny.
I surf a lot for research projects and get my share of e-mails and forwards so a security program is very important. I wanted it to work. All the time. And the only folks who knew anything about that particular security program were the folks who provided the online service: my phone company.
I reluctantly picked up the phone again and waded through several more multi-layered menus. This time I got a techie named Mary from A Land Unknown.
You see, I had stopped asking the techies what part of the world they were calling from. So far, each one had been from a different continent and I was running out of continents.
Nevertheless, Mary was quite sure my security program had nothing to do with my write drive error message. She also assured me she would have my security program up and running again in no time.
Unfortunately, she said, the write drive problem would have to be resolved by my CPU provider, the nerdy guys from Big Box Warehouse where I bought the whole system.
By now I’d spent many frustrating hours on the phone trying to follow arcane instructions from people whose first language was definitely not English. And my computer was still giving me fits.
I took a deep breath, had a cup of very black coffee, and tried one more time.
This time I got a male techie named Kevin who said he was from Canada and—wonder of wonders!—both of us could actually understand each other. What a breakthrough!
Kevin must have recognized the desperation in my voice because he immediately assured me, in very good English, that he could fix my problem easily.
It didn’t happen.
The next day, Jack, also Canadian, insisted that I probably had overloaded my system with “too many processors.”
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And, he was certain, I had also, probably, picked up some “parasites. From e-mail forwards.”
Parasites?
Naturally, I had heard about computer “bugs” and “viruses” but “parasites?”
Not to worry. Jack assured me he could easily shunt me to a nifty website called “Housecleaner” or “Housemaid” or something like that. And that program would clean up my hard drive, eliminate all the excess processors, and eradicate the parasites, all within a few minutes. And all for free!
I don’t have to tell you what happened at the end of the Housemaid-download-clean-up procedure, do I?
That’s when I remembered I had an appointment with my gastroenterologist. My Crohn’s disease had flared up for the first time in several years.
My doc poked around my abdomen and said, “Hmm. Any kind of stress going on in your life right now?”
When I told him about my deadlines and my endless computer problems he suggested I call his computer techie who “really knows his stuff.”
And guess what. He really did know his stuff. After coming to our house and zipping around my computer’s system files for about forty minutes everything was back to normal. And it only cost me one hundred dollars. Plus twenty-five dollars for “travel time.”
Hallelujah. I was back in business.
I got my revisions finished. I even saved them on the very same CD that my computer had not recognized at all before this whole mess started. And my Crohn’s symptoms were starting to fade away again.
That’s when I started getting a new error message.
But you don’t want to hear about that. And I don’t have the energy to go through it anyway. To end this nightmare with some sunshine, I’ll just say this.
My latest error message has finally gone away, too. And my computer seems to be working normally again. Knock on silicone. But I’m still clinging to one last desperate hope.
Maybe someday someone will design a computer that is similar to a car. When my Chevy doesn’t work right, I take it to my favorite mechanic. He fixes the problem and I’m back on the road again. The engine purrs. The wheels go around. The brakes work. No problem.
You see, I don’t want to know how my computer works. Nor do I want to know and understand the various theories that may explain why my computer does not work. And I don’t want to study a half dozen different manuals that explain how best to repair my computer.
Are you listening, techies?
So from now on, don’t ask me if my glortswitch has been updated recently. And don’t ask me to choose among three free downloads that can free up my lapendater module, revitalize my spooler input damper, or purge all my parasitized cookies.
And for goodness sakes, don’t ask me to read chapter thirteen of the latest edition of the Universal Tech Manual for Smart PCs and Dummy Operators.
Just fix the damn thing!
Is that too much to ask?
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Russ lives in Sarasota, Florida with his wife. He is a graduated from Temple University in Philadelphia with a degree in psychology and has been writing most of his life. His new suspense novel, "Crosshairs", is available through all the major bookstore chains in the US and UK, as well as on Amazon. Russ's website: www.russheitz.com |
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