The Clueless Leading the Blind

Dealing with tech issues for me is like playing Pin the tail on the donkey, in that I would appear to be blindfolded every step of the way. Pin the tail on the ass is more like it. There is no other way to better describe it. At least when I look back on my various antics in these matters, I derive a fair amount of comic relief.

Not that trying desperately to pay a computer hacker is THAT funny. I thought we had agreed to let that one go.

It's hard to tell us apart when one is blind, the other clueless.

The beginning of the end began a month or so ago, when the screen on poor Suzy Puente's monitor went blank, and I was left in the dark (I give my computers names; this one was Suzy). I handled it pretty well until I got to the part about replacing her. There I encountered some technical issues. The saltier I got, the more comical it all seems to me now, after the fact. The gestation period for cooling off is generally around two weeks. I can hold a grudge but my grip is shaky.

Torturing my computer is an art; it’s a miracle I don’t have to replace it more often. Take coffee, for instance, but first let me just shift this mug a bit more out of range. And yeah, sorry about that; it won’t happen again. For sure, bro. There can be no food or beverages anywhere near a computer.

Let’s begin this most recent fiasco with my decision to go up to Arcata, instead of down to Santa Rosa to replace my Apple. I wanted a calmer experience than what one generally receives, when heading down into the frenzy that is 'Rosa. 

Calmer? The MacIntosh computer shop in Arcata was as peaceful as a mortuary. Arriving just as the store opened, I was the only customer and there were at least four employees. Having a veritable ocean of tranquility did not help me one iota, just as it probably would not have helped were I actually in a mortuary.

What would have benefited me I can now see clearly, would have been to have written down those things which were crucial to me. I could then have handed the list over to the clerk. If there were a problem after that, at least we would have had a starting point. As it was, I dug my own grave and then was surprised to find myself buried in it. How was I supposed to know that the new computer would have completely different ports than Suzy Puente, other than the fact that it was predictable?

This dude is good. I can fire specific instructions about the set-up on the new computer, even as he is buried in his own computer, looking up prices and information, and typing them into place. But, you know, these tech guys just absorb information. The rest of us have to listen first, and then write everything down. 

I was wrong on so many levels. He was certainly pleasant and most eager to help, but I had walked into the shop determined to leave with a computer, even if it did not match the one I was replacing. I announced as much at the outset of our conversation. The story behind the shattered screen, by itself, is comical enough, in a twisted sort of way. That's where I began.

This whole photo is what my screen looked like...

I had murdered poor Suzy Puente by simply closing her lid with something sitting on the keyboard, thus rendering her screen about one-fourth of the way unreadable, along with anything on the desk-top beneath the blackness. I was able to do that remarkable thing because I was not sitting down in front of the computer, but instead, I was standing behind the monitor, and had simply pushed the computer lid shut. 

The sound I heard was enough for me to immediately recognize that I had disabled-if not destroyed-this two thousand dollar tool. I might not have thought so much destruction could result from one, number two, yellow pencil. The irony of the pencil on my keyboard (I had been making a grocery store list) has not been lost on me.

In a perfect world I would keep the computer arena free of everything, to prevent this sort of accident, but in a perfect world, the valet would attend to these matters, and the cook would prepare fantastic feasts and the butler would-

[Editor’s note: My Dude…]

Poor Suzy. She lingered on for a couple of months before one day, just going blank, kind of like my mind. Call it blindfolded if you please. Instead of pausing for a week or so, to allow the dust to settle, I went off half-cocked, as my father used to call it.

I knew that my sister who lives in Sebasketball, which is coincidentally close to Santa Rosa, was off gallivanting around in The Big Apple, making her unavailable to help me with my little Apple. That contributed to my decision to go north. Had I chosen to mark time for a week, she would have been back in town, and we could have run a few ideas up the flag pole, maybe even saluted one. We’ll never know.

It’s not that losing poor Suzy Puente cut me off from civilization, it’s that I had to-gasp(!)-acquire some telephone skills. I thought I did that back in the late fifties, but now I need to do more than say, “O’Neills’ residence, Mark speaking…” Take a picture with my phone? Access face/book with my phone? Did you know there is this thing called Messenger? I had more than a thousand messages, heretofore ignored. And something called Chat? Ditto. I still do not know how to access them on my computer.

I can say one thing for sure: My new computer is no female. I know that because my new computer is clueless. Draw your own conclusions. As for the clueless leading the blind, I needed no assistance from the shop; I was perfectly capable of mucking things up on my own. 

I have the gift, you know.

Next: My sanity for an adaptor