I’ve been away. I’m sorry my blogging was non-existent. My computer is spazzy… I wrote about it last week in my love letter to Best Buy.
So, it’s my fault. I get it. I spilled water all over my phone AND my computer as I was calling someone for an interview for my grown up job blog. It was a cool story too, this amazing police officer from Jersey was shot like nine times and survived! Bananas. Anyways, my speaker was trashed, I sounded like I was under water and no one could understand or hear me when I was on the phone. I panicked. Full-blown, crazy eyes, ‘WHAT THE FUCK DO I DO NOW’ mode where I wanted to immediately call my dad. But this wasn’t time for DEFCON 5. I had to pull it together.
To provide some clarity here, I am technologically deficient. iTunes confuses me, I can barely turn on a computer without something going wrong and when my technology fails, it fails big time. Epic proportions failure. It’s not pretty and when I got invited to join Google+ I freaked out. I am so ill-equipped for these things. I should live in a cave.
However deficient with technology I may be, I am still a slave to my phone, I immediately dashed off to the Sprint store and I descended on the salesmen like a hurricane. I find myself in these dire situations of my own making very underdressed. In fact, oftentimes I am sans bra and looking disheveled and quite White Trash meets grungy granola. I need to work on that part. Working as a writer at home makes getting “ready” for the day, rolling out of bed.
Back to Sprint. Hands shaking I thrust my phone forward desperately towards the associate in the universal “Fix my shit immediately" gesture. Easily terrified by my appearance, he took a giant step backwards and away from me.
“Ma’am.” he says. (And can I just say, I hate the ‘ma’am’ shit. It’s “miss” if you are under the age of 85. I tip better when waiters know this. Eff.)
“No one can understand me on the phone. I spilled water on this AND my computer and it had branch chains in it so that’s sugary so maybe that’s even worse than regular water and it is getting all crytall-y in my phone. And I called like four people and they can’t hear me. Okay that’s a lie. It was two. My daughter, who says I talk too fast, but she definitely couldn’t hear me. The other person was this guy, not a guy I’m dating, but a guy I have to interview and I have to have it fixed now. See, I’m a writer and the guy who couldn’t hear me is an interview. It’s crazy actually. He’s a cop in Jersey and he got shot. Like NINE times, if you can believe that! Nine! I know a lot of people in Jersey right now… that’s so weird. They don’t pronounce my name correctly. Care-y. Care-y. They say Car-ee. Drives me nuts.”
At this point someone clearly needs to intervene and save me from myself. I had yet to take a breath and all four of the Sprint associates were standing in a semi-circle just letting me take those precious minutes of their lives away with my ramblings.
The associate finally intervened. “What’s your phone number?”
I actually pause and cock my head to the left like a confused puppy. Lately, I’ve gotten in this habit of giving out my wrong phone number to the skeezy guys at the bar and the muscle heads at my gym so the number temporarily escaped me.
Sprint Guy: “Uh…ma’am?”
Me: “Yeah. Just a sec…………….Ah, yes.” I relayed the correct number and waited demurely for him to call me.
The associate picks up the phone at the register and dials my number. We both wait staring awkwardly at each other. And it’s in this moment I think to myself, “So, when it rings do I say something funny? Or just hello? Do I look at him when I answer?”
It was quite a conversation in my head. Sometimes I seriously wonder how I function in my adult life.
My phone buzzes and I go ahead with the standard, “Hello.”
Sprint Guy: “Ma’am, I can hear you just fine.”
Me: “Dude, you are a foot from my face.”
Me: “Perhaps you can go around to the back room and we can try that again?”
He reddens and says, “Do you want me to hang up and call you back?”
Me: “Uh…., no, you can just walk around the corner.”
The second test proved my speaker was jacked up. Being more than a foot from me on the phone did prove to be an important part of the equation.
Part II: Best Buy
Best Buy… I am too exhausted to even detail the deficiencies that are your Geek Squad business model. My computer still isn’t working right. The keyboard gets stuck on the letter “l” and the number “9” like some fucked up version of Sesame Street. The most redeeming part of my trip to your store was the parking spot. I don’t understand how human beings can be that completely unhelpful. It’s as though the associate there was incented to actually prolong my problem and waste my time. At one point, I believe I asked him if he had been drinking.
I’m making the computer situation work with my should be patented problem solving process. Hitting the keyboard works… AND when the frustration became too much to bear, I did get to the fifth step of the process. I totally called my dad (and my mom). It was that big a deal.
And my friend Jim’s son (who is probably 11) is finding me a replacement computer keyboard and will also be installing it. Maybe when he’s here I can have him explain Google+ to me so that I can explain it to the four people who are in my circles….