I live in The Land Of No Internet. It’s better known as a “farm”. We’ve tried various forms of internet and all of them have failed. Or cost a bazillion dollars. So, on nights and weekends, I am unplugged from the computer.
I don’t complain. Much. It’s kind of nice to just relax at home. And by relax I mean scrub floors, toilets, dishes, clothes, children’s faces and feet without the annoying tether to the computer.
But I do miss it.
My friends live in there. Also, my Scrabble games. And my blog. And all my friend’s blogs. I miss the voyeuristic like appeal of watching what’s going on with Facebook. It’s like legal peeping.
So imagine my shock when I came to work this morning and turned on my computer and it wouldn’t turn on. No matter how many times I kicked it yelled at it swore at it encouraged it with sweet talk, it just wouldn’t turn on. After hyperventilating for a few minutes and frantically checking cords and plugs which I have no idea what any of them do, I realized I needed to call my IT guy, Ron. I flipped through my stack of business cards like my life depended on it, found the card, dialed the number, and heard a voice mail. “You’ve reached Ron, please leave your name and number and I’ll be sure to get back to you blah blah blah…”
I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “Kearsie, sweetie, don’t you think you’re being a little overly dramatic? Come on.”
Look, clueless reader, let me just explain something. My whole LIFE is in my computer. My whole JOB. I *must* have a working computer.
My eyes raked the business card again, hunting for a more direct line. “Support” seemed promising, so I dialed quickly and waited on baited breath.
“Ron?! Ron! Is that you?!’
“Er, yes? Who is this?”
“Ron, this is Kearsie with Important Lawyer Office. Ron, you MUST fix my computer! I shall die if you don’t! Please! Please! Help Me!! *SOB*!”
(Editor’s note: Dude, this is juiced up for your entertainment solely. The real transcript of the phone conversation would be as boring as hearing about my taxes. Just sayin.)
“Ok, Karissa, I’ll be right over.”
Since my whole job is virtually tucked into this confusing piece of machinery, I did mundane duties that involved paper, paperclips and staples. It was so 1980’s.
Ron finally showed up and I whisked him to my office and pointed at the unconscious computer. Ron brought out his resuscitation devices, aka Technologically Important Discs and got to work.
Seriously, I am not a stupid person, except for losing at Scrabble all.the.time., but for real, why are computers so complicated? I just need a computer that has an “ON” button, an “Internet” button, a “Music” button and an “OFF” button. Is that really so hard?
Ron typed in undecipherable computer language, discovered the culprit, vanquished the virus and pronounced the computer healthy again.
And here I am. All thanks to my BFF, Ron: IT Extraordinaire.
It was scary, though, to realize just how dependent I am on a piece of machinery and a keyboard. How much of my life is trapped in this little box, only attainable with an internet connection.
What will I do if I lose my job? *shudder*