computer guys
I have been off line for about three weeks and using others' computers, a new form of itinerants. Like a homeless tecchie, I have used my breaks, and lunch hours at work to keep in touch electronically. A sort of transitional lobotomy from my other life. Thankfully, though, my computer was in a self-induced coma and I had a former student come and fix it with a brain transplant this weekend. It was as if the circuits had been restored not only to my business but my communication with others. And, at the same time I was appalled that I used so much of my time on the net. However, during that time I had some interesting experiences with the tecchies I worked with. Usually the computer aneurism happened at the very end of my day; of course the last thing I would do would be to check my mail before going to bed. You never know, right? E- harmony might have the perfect guy and if I did not reply THAT INSTANT I would have my life irrevocably changed. However, not the case, but often the computer would break. I had on little post-it notes scattered throughout my desk 800 numbers of 24/7 call signs for help. During this time, I spoke to people not in my hemisphere, my culture, my knowledge, or even my astrological sign. After a while I would call them with resignation, and one time almost in tears, " I cannot do this, I hate this, my husband used to do this, can you help me?" And they would, in their wierd follow-the-flow-chart way, try. Sometimes I would try very hard not to be bitchy about their accent and thank them. Sometimes I would invoke the whole U.S. Congress, the Nafta act, the whole balance of powers, the Communist fear, the Asian world is taking over our U.S. school system belief, because these people who are probably brialliant are willing to take my call because I am an idiot. And so we would wait while arcane and obtuse computer programs would be transfused into my computer. I would sit there, trying not to cry and feeling stupid and so would ask, " So, where are you?" Given the answer, I would craft a question, " What are you cooking today? " " Do you have any special dishes you like to eat?" Thrown by a question outside of their provenance, the tecchies would begin to be human;" I am eating dosas, I like adobo, "etc. Usually the foods were Asian, Indian, and Phillapino. One particularly horrible download lasted twenty minutes, so I discussed food with this man somewhere in the Goan region. I'm sitting in sweats at my computer, with tea and trying to keep warm and knowing in 3 hours I would have to get up and go to work! And so, as my computer finally died, and I finally had a local tecchie visit a home care update, I thought about the people thoroughout the world who had tried very hard to help me. They were not successful, but humored my food requests in the down time. And that is what it is about, not the synapse, not the programs, the firewalls, the spywares, the downloads, but what you have to eat at lunch. Maybe I helped their dull day, overeducated working at a dumb down flow chart job; they helped my angst doing it alone evenings trying to help me with my technology. Let's do lunch indeed.
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