My husband lovingly refers to me as the computer murderer ; the antitheses of the computer whisperer, you know, derived from that fabulous dog whispering dude on one of the 543209876787656 channels on your TV. Literally , just as I sat down to write this, I was delayed because I couldn’t find my freaking password for wordpress; yes it’s on a sticky note, and yes I should have it memorized but it’s really complicated because , I’m in extreme danger of being plagiarized with my 6.4 followers. I frantically looked in our documents, because I typed out all our passwords a few weekends ago. (STOP – if you are a hacker, I didn’t really do this OR if you don’t believe that, I JUST paid off my 4 year liberal arts degree like less than a year ago, I’m 41, I’m a bargain shopper, I don’t “work” per say- so sufficed to say, hacking into our financials is just going to piss you off……) – I digress. I don’t remember what I named the document because I tried to be clever. I did name one of my documents “Throw some Dees on dat…dat…dat..dat” ,but it’s not my password document and that particular document has nothing to do with Daytona Rims (which by the way is what a Dees Be) so I really don’t know where I was going with that document title.
Let’s just say, over the course of the last couple of years, I have sent “comments”, “feedback” “surveys” & what-have-you- to Google, Itunes, WordPress, Microsoft etc – in a lame attempt to express my dissatisfaction towards computer and technology malfunction. I’m sure; somewhere in IT land at some company, there is a dartboard or a voodoo doll with my name all of it. Yes, I’m the user that gets frantically angry, clicks 1056998340474 times, screams at the computer with intense vitriol resentment, so much so, I’m terrified that Dr Phil’s camera crew is going to come busting in at any moment to document and analyze my years of buried malfeasance. I will admit, nine times out of ten – the problems I am experiencing are what the IT departments anywhere most affectionately refers to as “useless user error”.
Let’s go back, way back, 10 or so years ago when I worked at a credit card company. I know those IT people (‘those people’ – insert smiley face) played some type of rock, paper, scissors, lizard, spock, game to not have to deal with moi as my name lit up on the help desk phone. My stoic face, is kind of a grumpy face, okay okay, let’s call a spade a spade, I could be and was kind of a bitch when my computer was not working or maybe I was kind of a bitch in general. I would not want to help me with my computer problems.
I remember this one system we installed in the Human Resources department, let’s just call it the GAH system because I am not sure if it was a top secret system? again, because well, you know, I worked for a credit card company, not the CIA so I’m not sure why I’m protecting the name of the system. Anyhow, this system cataloged interview candidates and it repeatedly got backed up , because we got backed up with candidates. It was supposed to work “real-time’, like the drive through at Starbucks, but after 600 mocha choca lattachinos ordered and only a couple people to handle the frothing machine- you do the math. For whatever reason, I was vehemently displeased at the GAH system. ( I think I even made up an angry RAP song about it Eminem style..)
I remember sending one of my infamously long (see my blog on Procrastination) emails to the head of the IT department about our issues with the GAH system and I used all caps and cheese and crackers, did I bold and underline and CC other people? His response was so eerily calm to my outright PMS tantrum, I’m pretty sure he put a curse on all my future technology purchases. In essence , these two paragraphs are dedicated to him, his patient staff and IT people around the globe that I have dealt with- My amends to you for for all the emails/ surveys titled “I will be putting a fork in my eye if I receive any more error messages” , my guttural screams, my incessant “leave-words” and whatever fresh hell I cascaded upon your departments.
Phones: I have never had a good track record with mobile phones. One because I rarely have them turned on so when I lose them, I can never find them. Recently my “smart phone” ended up in the fridge; and hubs was none to happy to have been the UNSPOILED VICTOR in this quest on finding MY COLD PHONE before I dashed out the door to a baby shower. Yes, I take witless actions; such as, PLACING PHONES ON MY RUNNING BOARD OF MY CAR BEFORE DRIVING OFF LIKE MADEA; only to realize 10 minutes later the tragic death that had bestowed upon my cellular companion.. My torrid relationship with phones can be summarized by the following image; A wide-eyed, bushy pony-tailed Mom, in her frayed , extra long yoga pants, barefoot, topped with a NIKE swooshed “Just Do IT” t shirt-, frantically dodging traffic to pick up the mangled wreckage of what was once a communication vessel.
Computers: Sigh. I could write an entire book on my war with these B____S (you figure out the word, Jesse Pinkman used it lovingly and frequently in Breaking Bad)_, okay I gotta be nice – because I really think there is something to that movie the Matrix. This “computer” I’m typing on, controls me. Nice computer. honey bunny smoochies. Momma loves you soooooo much!. Before you call the people who house the straight jackets to come get me, read on.
Last year, this one Scrappie Momma became unconditionally stonewalled with the “perceived” slowness of her computer ( I mean really, It shouldn’t take THIS LONG TO UPDATE FACEBOOK I gottts stuff to say…) and after 5684957398 clicks with the mouse, 5423795748 rambling texts to my husband, I finally ordered up one of them “handy-dandy-click-amma-bobs-helpful-virus-scanware-guaranteed-to-make-your-computer-faster-or-your-money back”. Sufficed to say, my computer seemed to run faster that day. Then it literally started to melt, like the dude in Raiders in the Lost ark who drank that holy water? I tried to blame it on Minecraft because my son was all up in dat. And I still claim to this day Minecraft had something to do with it. Although the shaming finger points wholeheartedly in my direction as , case in point the whole melting-of-the-face- scenario mentioned above.
In closing, I have panic attacks when I see the swirly circle that never ends , when I click on a “screen” and it just swirls and swirls and swirls. I envy the savvy computer dudes on Person of Interest with their lightening speed communication tankers and their access to multiple fancy-schmancy smart phones and ear pieces. Who do they call when the “machine” is broken? Why is everything so fast? Why are they not seeing the swirly , twirly gumdrops of death on their screen? Why aren’t they calling in to iTunes DEMANDING to speak to a supervisor? How come they have never left their phone in the freezer or on a running board or fallen prey to the shiny ads on their screen that “promise to make all their computer blues disappear” Yes. I have a love-hate relationship with technology and I’m eternally grateful my husband has lots of back up files.