After the economic downturn hit in 2008 it became apparent to me and Jill, my live-in girlfriend, that we were going to have to make some financial cutbacks. Jill’s full-time job was reduced to part-time status, and my unemployment checks weren’t enough to cover the bills.
After some serious discussion we realized our best decision would be to cancel the cable TV and high-speed internet. We figured this would save us about eighty dollars a month. This made sense to us because we were always complaining about the fact that there was nothing good to watch on TV anyway, and the computer was only a gizmo that we didn't need and was therefore a luxury expense. Not only that, my niece, Jordana, was a college student and was in need of a computer for her studies, so it seemed a good thing for us to give the computer to her as a gift.
It was on a Thursday morning that we’d decided all this. Later that same day we were hit with an unfortunate coincidence. The computer went haywire. It froze up, the hard drive raced, and a virus alert message popped up on the screen.
“Oh, no!” I yelled out.
Jill came running into the room.
“What? What is it?”
“Look,” I said, pointing at the screen, like a monkey looking at an ant hill.
She brought her hands to her face.
“Oh, my god,” she said, as if she’d just been told the president had been shot.
This had never happened before. Oh, sure, there were little things, but nothing like this. We were about to find out how little we knew about our own computer.
We instructed the virus protection to rid the system of all viruses. It didn’t work. The computer would simply freeze up, and then the hard drive would race, with the same pop-up message listing about ten viruses. This futile action was repeated by us for about an hour. Then we swore our way through every closet and drawer looking for the computer manual. Our search ended with nothing more than recriminations as to who was more irresponsible with product manuals, her or me.
She won that one.
Then we tried rebooting three times, but to no avail. Then Jill had the brilliant idea that we turn it off and “let it rest” for awhile, as if it were a sick child in need of mothering. This led to an argument as to who was more intelligent with modern technology.
I won that one.
We went to bed that night with the computer still not working. But we had decided that maybe it was for the best, since we would have given my niece a computer that may not have worked anyway. And since we didn't need it anymore we rationalized away our disappointment easily enough. Life was going to be different for us now. We were going to read more books, go for walks, start exercising, and strive for a simpler, more wholesome lifestyle, free of the frustration that all the new, crazy technology was causing in our lives.
Amen.
Friday morning started a little rocky. Jill couldn’t dance her morning exercise because the computer was our sole source of music. This made her crabby as hell. I couldn’t check our bank balance online, and we didn’t keep a register, so we had no idea how much we could spend on groceries. Jill took off for her part-time shift, telling me “good luck” job hunting, which reminded me that I had applied for jobs online and now would not be able to receive any replies from prospective employers via E-mail. How could I have forgotten that? Later in the evening we were disappointed because we couldn’t watch a movie online, a long standing Friday night ritual for us. This in turn led to an argument about maybe I wasn’t trying hard enough to get a job, and how sick and tired she was always pinching pennies to just survive.
Nobody won that one.
We went to bed not speaking to one another. Saturday morning we made up. During coffee we talked about all the things we did on the computer: Online banking, E-mail, watch movies, chat online, discussion boards, online dictionary, photo archive and editing, gaming, Utube, copy documents, internet cruising, research, download and listen to music, online shopping; and of late, apply for jobs, since many companies only accept applications via the internet...
The question became less, “Can we live without it?” and more, “what did we do before we got it?” We realized we were only dreaming if we thought a computer was a mere luxury. Gizmo or not, we’d have to get it fixed and keep it, and then find other ways to cut financial corners. My niece would be disappointed, I knew--but hey, it’s tough all over. Beside, it’s best she learn these disappointments now when she’s young.
We called Best Buy and told them our situation. They said to bring it on in, they’d take a look at it. Naturally I was concerned about the money, so I asked how much? They weren’t sure, but they’d call and let us know before they did anything.
Disconnecting the computer from its myriad of cords felt like pulling the plug on life support. We rushed into the store, with me looking like a father carrying a sick child. They said they were short a tech that weekend and that we might have to wait until Tuesday. We grumbled our unhappiness, which created empathy in the cute service girl; they would do their best, she assured us, to get it done by Monday. We smiled our gratitude.
We were in a fog the rest of the weekend. All our resolutions about seeking a better life with wholesome pursuits never seemed to materialize. Reading, walking and exercising didn’t seem all that exciting to us. The harder we tried to think of something meaningful to do, the greater our boredom. How lost we felt without that one-eyed, electronic gizmo sitting on our desk in the bedroom.
How many hits had we gotten on our Utube video? we wondered.
Did I get a response to one of my job applications?
I sure wish we could listen to some music!
If only I had the computer, I could check the library for that book I wanted!
I sure hope we don’t lose all our family photos on that hard drive!
Oh, no! we can't send my brother an Email and tell him we're not driving fifty miles for lunch; now we have to call him on the phone and actually talk to him!
Oh, God, please give us back our computer!
By Tuesday morning we still had not received a call from the store. We called them. They told us it would be ready at noon. We left the house two hours early and found any reason we could to be near the store when noon arrived.
Finally, it was noon.
We burst through the store’s front doors like storm troopers from Star Wars, and right over to the Service Desk.
The tech carried the black box to the service desk, with us looking like a couple of covetous alcoholics thirsting for a drink. We were afraid to ask, but we had to: How much is the bill? "Only 198.99," he said cheerfully, as if it were merely pocket change; but then we’d also need a new virus protection program too, since our old one was so outdated and deficient we’d be back in no time with the same problem, he was sure. That would be another forty-five dollars.
Good Lord, I hope I get a job soon!
We paid the smart young man and split for home. Jill escorted me up the stairs like a Secret Service agent guarding a military secret. If I stumbled, I could trust her to save the computer while I fell to my death. Our dog Spike didn’t get the usual kind greeting when we barged into the front door.
Get out of the way Spike! Damn dog, always under foot!
Jill made coffee, pretending everything was okay in the world, whistling, singing, and apologizing to Spike with a treat, but I knew it was just her anticipation and fear. Will it work? Would we be happy again?
I carried Gizmo into the bedroom and gently set him on the floor like a basket of eggs. I had to hook the cables, so I crawled underneath the desk into a hidden world of giant dust balls, writing implements, food crumbs, and a fossilized fur ball from the previous year when we had a cat. Now for the cables. Let’s see, this goes here…that one goes…there…and this one…where the hell…oh, here we go…and got it!
No kidding, my heart skipped a beat when I pressed the power button. A few seconds went by, and then I saw light as the screen came to life.
It’s on! I yelled to Jill excitedly.
She rushed into the room and asked, “Does it work?”
“I don’t know yet,” I said, clearly apprehensive. Just then the phone rang. I knew it was my niece calling about the computer.
“Do you want to tell her, or should I,” she asked.
“Um, go ‘head, you're better at those kind of things,” I said with grateful reassurance.
Jill did politics on the phone while I watched all those old familiar shortcut icons pop onto the screen. One by one they appeared, like little bursts of fond remembrance. I cracked my knuckles and began to explore the electronic universe I knew so well. This worked, that worked…everything worked! Jill came back twenty minutes later with the news that Jordana's dad--my brother--was going to buy her a new computer if we didn’t give her our old one.
I was genuinely happy for my niece. I'm sure she'll be happy with her new computer.
“It’s working!” I told Jill excitedly.
“Oh, thank goodness!” She grabbed a chair and sat beside me.
“We got over 300 hits on our Utube video over the weekend!”
“We did? We’re stars!”
“Our photos are safe, too!”
“Oh, how wonderful!”
“And my brother just sent an email and cancelled lunch, so I don’t have to talk to him!”
“Oh, you,” she said giggling, playfully slapping my arm.
“And did you know we have eighty-three dollars more in our checking account than we thought? A direct deposit refund from our car insurance!” We’d recently sold our second car, and that garnered a refund on our policy.
“Fantastic! This is turning out to be a good day, isn’t it?” she said with kiss.
“And I found a good movie for us, too. We’ll watch it later, right?”
“Great! Let’s watch it now. I’m in the mood for a good movie. I’ll make the popcorn,” she said getting up.
“I thought you wanted to go for a walk or start exercising today?” I asked.
“Naw, let’s save that stuff for another day.” She waved her hand dismissively.
I wasn’t about to argue with that good sense. I told her to bring back a cotton cloth so I could clean the fingerprints from the computer screen. She left the room and headed for the microwave popcorn. Then she turned around and poked her head into the room and stared at me.
“What?” I asked.
“I love you,” she said sweetly.
I smiled.
“I love you too, Babe……………..…and don’t’ forget the cotton cloth!"
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