I don’t know how this will work. I’m ending the year on a bad note.
My computer crashed on Christmas! I mean it really crashed. I threw it against the wall. So I’m writing this on Shirley’s state computer. And I figure, with the Patriot Act and all, the police could be at the door at any time. Or it could be the IT guy. You know, the one that you are supposed to call when you have trouble with your computer. You know. The Indian. Not the Indian guy from Mandaree that I rode with chasing cows. The Indian guy from, like Pakistan. The one that speaks better English than I, but is impossible to understand. And he doesn’t know that I am old and really not tech-savvy. And pretty much deaf. And he tells me to disconnect the modem and reconnect the router with the UBC cable and see if the 1200 portal is connected to the woofer and I don’t know jack.
Well, I know Jack, but not about computers. Pretty quick he is going to get his supervisor. Now the supervisor is older and wiser. And harder to understand. I think this is the part that is going to bring the police with the battering ram to my door. I told him that if we ever get done bombing Iraq, or Iran, or Afghanistan, or Syria, or whoever we are bombing now, India is next!
I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it. But I was against a deadline. And now I am sitting, staring out a dark window, wondering whether the next headlights coming down our road will be a computer repairman, the police, or the guy to fix the drywall where the computer hit.
But all of this reminds me of a story. A short story.
A guy, much like myself, called the IT guy (that’s Information Technology guy). This guy had received a new computer. He hooked it up and the screen stayed dark. He checked the modem and the router and all that stuff under the desk. You know, where all those cables and wires and plug ins are. The round ones. The square ones. The lit and unlit ones. He turned it on and off. He plugged and unplugged it. Finally, after reaching the IT guy, he began doing all the stuff again, under direction. The IT guy was stumped, much like mine. Then he told the guy to check the cable on the back of the modem and make sure it was plugged in all the way. The cowboy said it was hard to tell, because it was so dark in there. The IT told him to turn the lights on. “Doesn’t help, the power is off because of the storm!”