I guess you might say the type font is on the wall; yes, friends, my computer is about to “byte” the dust and, OK, those computer puns are truly painful. But like a loyal dog that’s lived beyond its prime, my laptop has grown sick and weary, and soon I’ll need to put it out of its misery for good.
The first sign that things were heading south was when the keyboard began “acting up,” a highly technical term that the computer geeks at the “Help” place don’t seem to comprehend. I mean, work with me here, people! Confidentially, I think computer technicians are space aliens working on a secret plot to take over the earth. After speaking with them for five minutes, I am hopelessly lost and feign an immediate need to go see my dentist.
However, since I didn’t purchase the extended warranty plan, which costs approximately the same amount as two new computers, my current computer help person is “Mr. Answer Man,” otherwise known as my spouse. Now this is a little scary for a couple of reasons: first, I expect my husband to inherently know how to fix any mechanical problem because he’s a guy and guys know all about engines and stuff, and I figure a computer is kind of the same thing except on a smaller scale. Plus, before he retired, he used to have a big job that involved sending satellites into space so I figured an itty-bitty computer would be a piece of cake, right?
Well, you’d figure. But before he attempts to fix anything, he insists on doing tedious, mundane things such as reading the directions and tutorials, which I could do myself if they weren’t so boring not to mention where in those big fat manuals is the section that actually helps you with your problem? If you ask me, instruction manuals should include a chapter entitled, “When Your Computer Sends You Snotty Messages Take It Immediately to the Roof of Your House and Drop it Two Stories onto the Driveway and Derive the Extreme Satisfaction of Seeing its Arrogant Little Brain Smashed to Smithereens.”
Another reason it’s not a good idea to ask my spouse to fix my computer is because this suddenly turns him into a whole other person; somebody I don’t know, and I’m not sure this is someone I’m comfortable sharing a tube of toothpaste with. Because let’s face it; there are some marriages that simply can’t withstand a computer crisis.
“When was the last time you defragmented it?” sniffed Mr. Answer Man when I disclosed my problem.
“There’s no need to use that language with me,” I responded testily. So he explained the process in excruciating detail. Remember, all I want is to have the thing function like it’s supposed to; I don’t care to perform brain surgery on it.
“Did that help?” my husband asked when I’d finished the “defrag” – a term that’s bandied about by us knowledgeable computer types.
“Yes and no,” I replied. ” ‘Yes’ because my computer is moving marginally faster, but ‘no’ since the vowels on my keyboard are no longer working.”
“Do you really need the vowels?” he asked. So you see what I’m up against here.
The next step was purchasing a keyboard and plugging it into the laptop, which was fine for awhile, but then the left side of the new keyboard pooped out so we moved on to keyboard number two, which functions for the most part except on alternate Sundays or when the moon is full. And you gotta love “Permanent Fatal Error” messages. Oddly enough, none of those messages proved to be fatal on a permanent basis, so I’m convinced my computer is an over-reacting drama queen.
Tragically, the most recent dilemma is far deadlier and has my spouse, Mr. Answer Man, over a barrel: my laptop has developed dementia. I say this because suddenly my computer has become extremely paranoid and forgetful. When I attempt to open a file or right click the mouse, my laptop’s senile little brain thinks I’m installing a software program. And not just any program, mind you, but one that is already installed.
Yes, once my laptop was a healthy, dynamic piece of hardware. Now it sends me pathetic little messages: “Preparing to install…” to which I answer “Cancel.” We repeat this process approximately 67 times, after which my laptop announces that it’s preparing to configure and install the program and orders me to insert a disc, forcing me to remind it yet again that I have, after all, spent the last half hour trying to cancel. Then it whines that it cannot continue configuring without the aforementioned disc, to which I repeat for the billionth time that I just want to cancel, you moron! Then my computer retorts with a smart-alecky message that “other people” are using the program. Huh?? Are you kidding me here? What other people? Just C-A-N-C-E-L, dammit! “Are you sure you want to cancel?” it demands haughtily like it’s suddenly my mother pressuring me to consider carefully whether I want to hang out with the kind of friends who will drag my good name through the gutter.
So you see, it’s time to put it down. It’s had a long, productive life, but now I need to let go and consider what lies beyond Windows XP. Can I accept a new computer operating system with all its unknown personality quirks? Should I jump ship entirely? I’ve always been a PC girl, but who knows? I’m a little intrigued by that upstart called “Mac.” Oh, what to do? Maybe this is a question for Mr. Answer Man.
Gale Hammond is a writer and freelance photographer who has lived in Morgan Hill 24 years. Reach her at
Ga*********@*ol.com.
