A Frightening Experience
I want to
tell you about my recent scare – a frightening experience which occurred recently
and one I am still struggling with. And it is my own fault, since I was unable
to leave well-enough alone, and I plunged into new technology for which I am
totally unprepared.
The change
that I am about to tell began some months ago when I noticed my computer had begun
acting up, refusing to respond instantly to my commands, seemingly reluctant to
do even the simplest chores. I ignored
the problem for a while in the presumption that it was just a symptom of age. After
all, my beloved computer was now several years old and I presumed that maybe it
was just that; the old girl was feeling her age a bit, slowing down just like
me.
Over the next several weeks other symptoms of
aging became noticeable: some of the lettering on her keys were missing and a
few were totally illegible. She also seemed to run out of power quickly, and
only the slightest bump caused her to drop her power cord. I finally came to
the fateful conclusion – it was time to give up on the old girl and buy a new
computer. Of course, I would see to it that she was given a thoughtful end
appropriate to our long and happy times together. Not just any dumpster would
do after all our hours together.
And so, I
began my search for a new machine, thus paying less attention to my old one.
Since I have a reputation to uphold, (that of being a cheap-skate) I decided to
begin my search for a new machine at Sam’s Club, where I had purchased my last
machine. This was based on the assumption of Sam’s superiority in offering the
lowest prices for things. Unfortunately, Sam’s had virtually no inventory of
laptop computers. With no patience for advanced planning, I was forced to seek
family advice about another source for cheap computers. Of course, I turned to
my granddaughters.
“The best
place is Micro Center,” they said, “You’ll like it, it’s a super center for all
things electronic.”
That was
almost the kiss of death. The truth was that I was afraid of any computer store
where my ignorance about the world of electronics would be on full display. My
solution was to convince my granddaughters to accompany me to the super store
and point out the computer that they each had at home. My theory was that if was
good enough for a 14-year-old, it would be good enough for me and I could avoid
the embarrassment of demonstrated ignorance.
The store
lived up to my worst fear. It seemed that every computer maker on earth had a
display of their offerings. We began at ASSUS, then moved to ACER, and we were heading
toward APPLE before being approached by a salesman, a young man who had just
left the set of The Big Bang Theory. I knew I was a goner when he asked
what kind of machine I wanted and how many Gigabytes were required to satisfy
my needs … or something like that. I mumbled a reply just as one of the
granddaughters whispered to me that the ACER machine on display looked just
like hers. I told the salesman that was the machine I was interested in. The
next part of the salesman’s pitch was a jumble of information about solid-state
electronics replacing spinning disks and other mysterious blather that seemed
mostly nonsense to me. After he went on a bit, I told him the ACER machine was
the one I wanted and he flashed a big smile.
“I’ll take
it up to the check-out lane for you,” he smiled again as he asked how else he
could help. I asked about transferring files and he explained that for just a
few dollars more I could get the largest available thumb drive from the
check-out kiosk. “Just tell the checkout clerk what you need,” he said through
another smile that was becoming tiresome.
Everything
seemed to be falling in place until I mentioned my ongoing upset with Microsoft,
and their recent threats to shut me down since I hadn’t sent them any money
recently. Apparently, my old computer had reported to Microsoft that my
subscription to Office 365 was coming to an end, and Bill Gates and his team
were sorry that I hadn’t sent them a payment to insure continued availability
of the software. The computer salesman seemed sympathetic to my tale, and I
brightened to the fact that he seemed baffled by Microsoft and their
intransience in the matter of the Office software. Maybe he was a man like me,
after all. He broke the spell with his next sentence.
“I can fix that
for you. Why don’t you buy your very own copy of Office 365 and load it onto
your new machine and never bother with Mr. Gates or his underlings again?” He
paused before concluding the sale when he mentioned as an afterthought that
having my own Office 365 would occasion a $150 add to the price of the
computer, a paltry sum in consideration of the ongoing licensing fee of $100.
This turn of the conversation buoyed my confidence and I quickly replied with
what I hoped sounded like a nonchalance answer, “Sure, add the 365 software to
the bill.” This provoked yet another smile.
I left the
store with all the things the salesman said I needed and breathed a sigh of
relief as I began the trip home, assuming that the frightful experience was
about to end. How little I knew at that point.
I stopped at
my son’s house to drop off the granddaughters and brag about my new computer. I
managed to solicit some advice from my computer savvy son about setting up the
new machine at home. He said the first step should be to copy the files from my
old machine and then use the thumb drive to make the transfer. Copying the
files from my old computer to the giant-sized thumb drive went smoothly. It was
probably because my son did it for me. After I arrived at home, I was on my own
to set up the new machine in my home office.
I opened the
box expecting to find instructions about getting started. Sure enough, inside
was the new computer and a small pamphlet entitled SetUp [sic] Guide. The guide
was four pages long; one page with two giant pictures was in English and the
remaining pages were written in an indecipherable foreign language. The English
portion had but two instructions: plug in the machine then turn it on and
follow the onscreen instructions. [I believe I could have gotten that far
myself] The pictures were an illustration of the power cord and second drawing was
a picture of the start button. Apparently, the ACER executives believe that is
all that computer users need to know.
I did what the Setup Guide said to do, but
nothing of consequence happened after I turned on the machine. Technically,
that’s not true. Something happened but I couldn’t figure out how it was
supposed to help me learn the operating parameters of the machine. Much later I
deduced what was supposed to happen. Before explaining this, you need to know
that modern electronics are inexorably tied to the internet just as are the
current generation of software developers. The intent of Setup Guide was to
lead me toward using the internet to locate a page where instructions about
using the new ACER machine were supposedly located. I never got that far since
the new machine seemed to be unfamiliar with my in-house WiFi system[WT1] thus voiding an opportunity to sign
on to the internet.
I knew I was
in trouble from the start when the machine asked for my WiFi user ID and
password in order to log-in. After I finally figured out what was wanted, I left
my home office and looked for old files labeled “computer.” You can translate
that to mean that I asked my wife to help find those miscellaneous scraps of
paper I created with passwords scratched on them. She found several records, and
I tried each but nothing worked so I finally went to bed, ready to give up to
the Gods of the internet. Some days later I stumbled on the correct password
info and the machine jumped to life, offering 20 or 30 different screens as
entry points for further information. Now I was finally getting somewhere. The
most annoying of the screens was an advertisement for Windows 11, proving that
my new machine would be instantly out-of-date with its now-antiquated Windows
10.
One of my
first successes with the new computer was with the mail. After I clicked open
the mail program I was rewarded with 838 emails that had accumulated from the
period when I had put away my old machine and purchased the new machine. I was
now back in familiar territory, dealing with the annoyance of unsolicited
advertising, impossible loads of mail and deadlines that retired men shouldn’t
have to face. As I closed out the most annoying of the pages, I realized that
learning how to use the new machine would be just a matter of time, with me
hunched over the machine, trying to come to grips with the latest technology. It
will be a long ride. Stay tuned. I will, no doubt, have much to complain about
shortly as is normal practice for me and my computing.
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