If I may say so myself I’m pretty good with technology. I usually get how things work pretty fast, and I’m not afraid to “click-and-try” without being one of those “I’ll just push EVERYTHING and then I KNOW it’ll work”-type of people. This has led to a constant flow of elderly relatives calling to ask questions like “now I pushed that thing and that thingy came up again. What should I do” and normally I can fix it.
I love technology and technology loves me.
My laptop might be the exception.
My laptop and I don’t really get along. Not that we are enemies. He gets the job done, and I challenge him and keep him clean of viruses and fed with the newest updates.
But my laptop is sneaky, and I’m sort of sloppy and those two doesn’t really mix.
First of all; my laptop is covered in paint daubs, glue, diet Pepsi, chocolate, breadcrumbs, glitter, dried resin, nail polish, juice and hair dye. I know it’s not good, I just can’t help myself.
In an effort to be his best friend, I include my laptop in most of my everyday tasks, and to be fair he’s not covered in anything I’m not covered in as well.
Normally he doesn’t complain at all. He’s like “sure, we can be friends, let me entertain you while your hair dye sets”. But then, right before something important at work, like a special presentation or a meeting, he shows his true colors.
He goes all like “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah you should NEVER have breadcrumbed me you silly witch of epic proportions. I’m gonna (I’ve always imagined my laptop to be slightly more “gangstah” than myself) lock ALL the keys of the keyboard AT THE SAME TIME harr harr harr”
And then he just won’t let them function before I’ve removed every last piece of breadcrumb (in fact, most of it usually turns out to be eraser rubber, glass pearls, cat hair and pieces of exploded mini UFOs) from beneath every single key.
And this habit of revenge scares me. It truly does. It shows its sneaky face at the least opportune times.
So imagine my panic yesterday when I dropped my entire computer from my abnormally high desk at work and on to the floor.
Granted it was still in my bag, but I heard the loud “Crack” of repercussions to come.
I gently took it out of my bag, placed it on my desk and turned it on. With a loud “sproing”-noise the CD-rom drive popped out about half an inch from its socket.
He (my laptop) must have understood what happened, because he started to make a ruckus.
I tried to gently push the CD-rom drive back in. It wouldn’t move.
While talking soothingly to my laptop, I tried to find out if the CD-rom still worked. It didn’t.
I tried to firmly squish it back in. Nothing worked.
I took a look around the office for one of my computer wiz colleagues, but no one was around.
I had to make a decision. Try to fix, or let it be and wait for the punishment.
Gently I placed my hand over the webcam (I always do that If I have to do something I don’t want my computer or “them” to know). And then with my right fist, I smashed the drive back in as hard as I possibly could.
My computer went black.
It was completely soundless.
I killed it.
The knowledge that I had killed my computer mixed with the guilt of murder overwhelmed me and catapulted me in to my “Option Two”.
My “Option Two” is my eternal fallback option.
I pretended like nothing had happened, nothing was wrong, everything was good.
I tried to turn my computer back on – nothing happened.
I pretended like nothing was wrong and tried again – nothing happened.
I pretended like nothing was wrong and tried again – nothing happened.
I pretended like nothing was wrong and tried again – It awoke from the dead.
He woke up like nothing had happened. He was friendly, cooperative and didn’t seem revenge-driven at all. Sort of like Jesus. He’s now been alive for 24 hours without a single outburst of rage.
Let’s cross our fingers he won’t suddenly get his memory back Monday morning, two seconds before I am to open my new webshop.
That would be just like him.
My computer that is. Not Jesus.
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