The computer story...
I have been having issues with my computer. I took it to the computer repair guy early last week - it is now fixed. The journey to get the computer to the computer guy is where the story is. I know very little about computer-speak - in fact, I get sweaty and nervous when I am being asked pointed questions about the innerworkings and hardware of my computer. So this was no small task to release my computer from all of its entanglements under my desk and then transport it to the proper office building.
So I am now parked in the parking lot and wrestling my computer out of the car - mind you, it's cold, icy and not a well-plowed parking lot that I am about to totter across. I tried to look like a pro by carrying the unit under my arm. However, all I could picture was me landing square on my fanny and the computer flying though the air only to land across the parking lot into 6,000 unnamed and unidentifiable pieces.
I made it safely to the front doors of the office building where I was then faced with a dilemma. Inside the double doors was a panel with many buttons on it and the next set of double doors seemed to be anchored with steel plates that appeared to be locked. I was now going to have to figure out a secret code to unlock the doors?? Nice. Very gingerly, I pushed a few buttons. The theme song to Mission Impossible is now running through my head. I am sweating, not only from nervousness - but because my out of shape bicep is now shaking under the pressure of gripping my computer so tightly AND trying to manipulate a key pad by pushing random buttons. All of a sudden, someone is coming toward me and passing through the doors which are apparently NOT locked. Hmmm... I quick checked for the presence of a video camera and proceded into the office building.
The address of the office is Suite 245. After some deductive reasoning, I am led to believe that that address would be on the second floor - correct? I carry the obtrusive box of bolts to the elevator and proceed to the second floor. Now it gets interesting. There is NO suite 245. Just a bunch of unoccupied offices - it looks like a recession ridden ghost town. Now what? I find a small obscure office with live humans in it at the end of the hallway. So I readjust the hunk of junk under my arm and head inside. Turns out, it's a dental office. So I lop my prized possession onto the high counter right next to the "Treasure Box" for well-performing patients, and deplete myself of all dignity. "Do you know where Suite 245 might be?" I ask the kind receptionist. "Oh, she says, that office moved to the first floor right by the front door." Yes... in my determination to "crack the code" to gain entry, I walked RIGHT BY the **&%## office. Now I'm not only sweaty, but a tad torked off as well. "Thank you," I say and head back to the lonely elevators.
Finally, I arrive at my location and meet eye to eye with Dr. PC Fix-It. He is on the phone but "will be with me shortly." I am still standing with this Godforsaken piece of bunk under my arm. While on the phone, he motions for me to come in and set my "unit" down.
After a brief nonsensical conversation, I leave my computer with a man who owns exactly 12 computers on desks and affixed to walls in a 6' x 6' space. I know that they all belong to him because he tells me this quite proudly. Each of them also displays a close up of the same cat in different poses for screen savers. Need I say more? A week and several awkward phone conversations later, the computer is fixed. And now I am thinking of a Budweiser commercial song, "Thanks, Mr. 12 screensaver with scary cats guy for saving my computer - it's guys like you that make the world just that much better!"
Silver Lining: I am sure he was just as scared of me as I was of him. After leaving the office and getting into my car, I looked in the rearview mirror as I was backing out and caught a glimpse of myself. The tops of both of my incisors are caked with the remnants of the Hershey's Kisses I shoved in my mouth right before embarking on my journey. I am also sure that I smiled real nice and big at the dental receptionist - good way to find a dentist - right?