Kristen Twedt writes for The Hattiesburg American, a Gannett newspaper and for Arriviste Press at www.arrivistepress.com, as well as the daily Macon Area Online at www.maconareaonline.com
You can read her family friendly newspaper columns and join her subscriber list at www.kristentwedt.com. Others that feature her not-for-prime-time humor can be found elsewhere under pseudonyms that protect her kids and husband from what they refer to as "societal leprosy." She has contributed to numerous humor anthologies and plans to actually read them one day. OK, probably not, but she'll do almost anything for a decent byline.
Monday Morning Rescue or How to Kill a Computer Dude
It is definitely a Monday. Most weeks I write this column on Monday morning
when I have a truckload of things do to and a coffee cups worth of time. But
today is tougher than usual because I feel like road kill. I have a cold and my
throat has turned to a raw, pulsing blanket of angry irritation. Wouldnt you
know this is the morning the computer threw that last straw on the camels back?
I tried to
log on, only to have the screen freeze up. I restarted and was greeted by an
inactive display. Apparently, I am not the only one who doesnt want to work
today. After a half dozen unsuccessful tries of rebooting, I finally called the
computer dude.
Of course, there are likely thousands of computer dudes and gals who man
technical help lines, but I always seem to get the same one. He speaks with a
strong accent that is definitely not southern, unless were talking south Asia. He is powerfully smart and agreeable, which is amazing since I ask him
to repeat everything at least four times. He greets me as though we are old
friends. So, it pains me to tell him that I am ready to shove my fist into a
monitor that gives me nothing, not even the time of day.
What eez da
screen saying to you? he asks.
The screen
is saying it wants to go back to bed. I couldnt agree more, except my column is
due today.
Ahhhh, I
see. You are expecting?
Im expecting
this to take awhile. But no, I am not pregnant. Im just cranky because I have a
cold. I write a column for the newspaper andoh, never mind.
Oh, I am
sorry, Krishden. Please to make your cold go away veddy, veddy soon. Now could
you press da Windows icon, release, hit enter and see if this helps?
No, I still
feel lousy. Oh, ha, ha, you mean the screen. No. Nothing new. What now?
OK,
Krishden, I need you to turn off your monitor and your computer and unplug the
power cords. Have you turned off
At this
point, there is dead silence on the line. I am deeply disturbed that my
computer dude has apparently hung up on me. How rude! I reinstall the
power lines and rub the top of my head where I have banged it twice on the
bottom of the desk. The phone rings and I answer through clenched teeth.
Hello?
Hello, dere,
Krishden. I believe we were disconnected.
It is only
then I realize that I hung up on the computer dude when I unplugged the power
strip.
Sorry about
that. Now, where were we?
OK, please
push the button on your tower and hold for 15 seconds.
On my what?
Your tower.
I am
looking. I am thinking. I am suddenly stupid in the ways that only a
half-asleep, non-geek sinus-clogged dim wit can be on a Monday morning when a
deadline looms and a severe headache pierces her remaining consciousness.
Tower? What
tower? Oh. That tower. Gotcha. Pushinnnnnngholdinnnnnng.can I let go now?
Yes, please.
Let go. Now what is your screen saying to you?
It is
saying, Give it up, lame brain. I ate spam for breakfast.
I am sorry,
but it is saying what to you?
Only
kidding, computer dude. Its saying nothing. The screen is black.
Black? The
screen, it is saying nutting? Did you turn the monitor back on, Krishden?
Im debating
whether to admit to yet another supremely dumb oversight. I push the button on
the monitor and the screen comes to life.
Oh, wait,
yes, FINALLY it is coming on. It is saying to me, You have the sense God gave a
turnip.
I am sorry,
Krishden, but it is saying what to you?
It is saying
the same thing it said 20 minutes ago. And now my cold medicine is kicking in.
If I squint just right, the double vision goes away. What now?
The computer
dude expels the air from his lungs the same way I tend to do, just before I
scream Who left a pen in their pocket?! over a pile of wet laundry. But he does
not yell. He simply begins again, walking me through a maze of oral directions
with the patience of a saint. Finally, the wondrous sound of Microsoft Windows
XP loading on my computer surges through my speakers. My screen welcomes me to
begin. And the computer dude extends heartfelt congratulations.
You are
awesome, computer dude. Thanks for saving me.
Oh, you are
veddy, veddy, welcome. Good luck with the writing.
Once again,
I found column fodder in spite of a miserable Monday. Those computer dudes help
far more than they know.
