THE DAY THE COMPUTER DIED, PART I

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Today’s column just doesn’t feel the same for me.

And it’s not because I haven’t had any Scotch.

You see, I’m having to write today’s column on a borrowed computer, as my computer has decided to be as useful as a hammer when it comes to writing columns.

It all started about a week ago. I turned on my computer, and it made the usual whirs and whizzes that it does when starting. Right as I got to the screen with the password, an error message popped up on the screen. (Side note: You may be wondering why I have a password on my computer. The reason is that I have many sensitive, confidential documents on it. That, and I can’t figure out how to turn off the password. I’m right above Amish on the computer skills level.)

Back to the error message. The message said something to the effect of "Virus files are corrupted." There was an OK, so being a good little cyber soldier, I clicked OK. Another message: MSGSRV23 caused a general protection…" You know, I could write the error codes in Latin and they would mean about the same to most of us, so why continue? Sure, there are a few of you out there who are probably screaming, "MSGSRV32???? GET AWAY FROM THE COMPUTER BEFORE MELTDOWN!!!" but where were you when I was getting the messages? I got about 450,000 more error messages, each one more cryptic than the previous. And, after every third or fourth message, my computer would crash and I’d start anew with the error messages. I’m not positive, but I think one of the messages referred to a dark overlord and was written backwards.

After my computer had crashed more than Richard Petty, I did what any sensible computer owner would do – I cleaned out the liquor cabinet. No, kidding, of course. I called the technical support line of my computer’s manufacturer. After two or three weeks on hold, someone answered the line. He asked what the problem was, and, after I told him, he said, "Hmmm. Can you hold for a moment please?" I’m not positive, but I think he went to find a priest to either (a) perform last rites or (b) perform an exorcism.

After a few minutes, he returned, apparently unable to locate any clergy. He had me go through a few steps, all of which resulted in new and exciting error messages. Finally, exasperation setting in, he said, "Do you have a screwdriver handy?" This had bad idea written all over it from the start. He wanted me to take apart my computer and root around in the insides. Maybe he thought a squirrel had died in there or something. I know they can disrupt transformers, so why not computers?

Making sure my wife was nowhere near and therefore unable to render good judgment to the situation, I opened up the computer and saw all of the delicate innards. I’m not positive, but I’m pretty sure that’s what a CATSCAN of Bill Gates would look like. He told me to take out the memory chip, right next to the sound card, but before my modem jacks and by the USB ports. Hmmm. "If I take all of this stuff apart," I asked him, "and I can’t get it all back in the right way, are you going to come here and put it back together for me?"

"Oh, no sir," he replied. "We can’t do that. We’re not allowed. Plus, I’m in Texas." A moment of sanity kicked in, and I explained to my Texas friend that this was about as good of an idea as having me go out and disassemble my car engine, so I would search for another solution. (He kinda sounded hurt that I didn’t trust him.)

I decided to call back to the tech support line in hopes of getting someone different. As luck would have it, I did. As bad luck would have it, I got Dale. Dale had a southern accent that would have made Scarlet O’Hara sound like she was from Jersey. I told him the problem, and he said, "Well, we’re gonna whip this boy good! Here’s what we’re gonna do – oh, and by the way, hope everything’s backed up, because we’re clearing this mother out, umkay?"

"Uh, umkay," I replied.

WILL DALE SAVE THE DAY? WILL MIKE’S COMPUTER BE WORKING AFTER DALE WHIPS THAT BOY GOOD? OR IS DALE THE MOST DANGEROUS TYPE OF TECH SUPPORT PEOPLE – THE RENEGADE WHO THINKS HE KNOWS EVERYTHING, BUT IN ACTUALITY KNOWS ONLY SLIGHTLY MORE THAN PLAY-DOH? TUNE IN NEXT WEEK FOR THE EXCITING CONCLUSION OF, "THE DAY THE COMPUTER STOOD STILL."