REQUIEM FOR A NOTEBOOK

So I was all ready to write a rather fascinating piece on our usage of foreign language colloquialisms in everyday day speech when the fates interceded, as they tend to do whenever I finally find myself motivated, and killed my laptop.  I know I've written about customer service before and jokes about tech support from India are as overdone as Donnatella Versace, but I think the overall gestalt of the incident is different enough to merit its own post. As such, I've recreated, E-True Hollwood style, the chronology of events for your pleasure and edification. In order to increase ratings for this particular episode and your respect for me overall, I have embellished certain details not germane to the outcome of the story. I have bracketed these instances in the interested of full disclosure.

Saturday night/Sunday morning: [After staying out late all night having fun and doing stuff I came home and turned my laptop on to check my e-mail.].  After spending some hours [not watching porn] online, I went to put it to sleep when it decided to go all "You can't fire me I quit!" on me and froze, a classic Tscaichovsky opening.  I countered this ploy with the Mandrake defense, rebooting, confident said laptop would have forgotten my attempts to shut down its conscious computer mind and would awaken pliant and ready to be used for [things totally non-sports or porn related]. Instead, my opponent went to the mattresses and responded with the "I'm sorry, I can't" defense, allowing me to turn her on, but preventing me from accessing any of her fun parts by having the screen remain dark (I'll admit, in what may have been a moment of sexist weakness, that I had just assumed the artificial intelligence in my computer was male, but I think its clear by her behavior that this is the work of a female mind).  At this point I realized I was facing a real competitor and stepped up my game, unplugging the power cord and letting the battery drain on its own.  Then I went to bed and slept the uneasy sleep of a soldier in the theater of war.

Late Sunday Morning: After an early morning weekend dentist appointment (oddly enough that's actually true), I returned to the battlefield numb and and drooling.  [I was ready for a fight.]  Unfortunately, my laptop was done fighting and seemed content to go on living the life of a deaf mute, perhaps happy to spend her days contemplating the mysteries of the electronic universe.  Either way there wasn't much left to do so I but the bullet and called tech support. After spending 30 minutes giving Rajit my address SSN, blood type and genetic coding, he informed me that my warranty had expired, but, becuase I was such a long time and valued HP customer (I bought one laptop from them 22 months ago) I was eligible for a discounted service.  For only $99 they were willing to offer me all the telephonic tech support I could handle for one year or, for $49.99, I could get one time help on one issue. I asked Rajit exactly how he could help me over the phone given that the only button on my computer that did anything was the power button and I'd already tried that.  He assured me that here were many things he could do ("Trust me my friends, there is many, many things I can do for you."), but I remained skeptical that any of them were computer related [he did however offer me a great deal on a time share in New Delhi].

Sunday Afternoon: After several admittedly pointless restarts and pep talks ("Come on baby, you know you can do it, let daddy see your big beautiful screen."), I started calling every friend I have with a computer science degree (You'd think they'd be free all weekend, but, surprisingly, no.).  When this failed to yield any resluts I decided to try shame and put my laptop next to the basket I use for regular old snail mail.

Moday Morning: The denoument of this particular story comes about by backup free tech support guy.  It might not surprise the advanced among you but here it is anyway.

Me: Good morning, I hope I'm not interrupting anything important, but I was wondering if I could abuse our friendship and treat you as a resource to be mined.
Free Tech Support Guy: I'd love to say no, but of course I can't without looking like a major douche.
Me: Wonderful.  My laptop won't show me her goods.
FTSG: Have you tried buying her diamonds?
Me: I will not stand for sexual innuendo! Can we please focus?
FTSG: OK, your screen probably died.
Me: Died?  It wasn't even sick!
FTSG: Yeah, it happens.
Me: But two days ago she was all bright and working! Wouldn't she have faded slowly over time, like a senior citizen.
FTSG: No, it's more like Conan O'Brien and the Tonight show. One day you're on TV at 11:30 pm, the next you're sitting at home counting to 45 million.  Only you don't get any money and you'll have to buy a new screen.
Me: You know, even though this advice is free, I still feel like I got screwed.
LTSG: Thanks! That's what tech support is all about.  Now if I could just get your blood type and genetic coding...