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Computer savvy Three Prongs, Three Holes -- What's the Problem?By Rick Horowitz
Let's not call him inept. Not that it isn't true -- the list of things he can't do, can't even dream of doing, gets longer every day. But why be so hard on him? Let's just say that he's technologically...challenged. And the challenges seem to arrive in smaller and smaller packages. This recent challenge of the laptop and the power cord, for instance. It all started so innocently. There he was early one morning, sitting at the kitchen table, glancing at the morning papers. Then the reading was done, and it was time to start the writing. (He writes for a living, our techno-averse hero does -- newspaper columns, TV commentaries, the occasional magazine essay. Today it's an essay.) So he picks up his laptop computer and places it gently-gently on the kitchen table, pushes the "ON" button, and slides one end of the power cord into a nearby wall outlet and the other into the back of the computer. Except that it doesn't go in. The end that's supposed to go into the computer, that is; the end that goes into the wall outlet is fine. But the little sort-of-round, sort-of-square part that's supposed to slide into the little sort-of-round, sort-of-square hole in the back of the computer, won't. He tries again. Nothing doing. Of course it won't go in -- he's trying it upside down! These little sort-of-round, sort-of-square parts (he's trying to master the jargon -- he calls it the "plug thingy") can fit in only one direction, with the big curvy, swoopy part on top. How silly of him not to notice how -- Except that it's not upside down. He looks at the thingy, and it's positioned exactly the way a thingy is supposed to be positioned. It just won't go in. No big deal, he tells himself; he'll use the battery for a while, give the computer and the power cord a chance to settle down. (Machines are such temperamental animals.) Then he'll try again. No big deal. Except that he doesn't do any better the next time he tries it. Or the next. And the thought occurs to him: At some point in the next several hours, the battery is going to run out of juice. Plenty of time to finish the magazine essay, he tells himself -- but what about the column? He has to write a column tomorrow morning, write it and edit it and send it out. How is he going to do that if the battery is out of juice? At some point, he really needs to get this plug to plug. So he alternates. He writes for a few minutes, and then he attempts thingy repair. He writes for another few minutes, then some more thingy repair -- staring at the three prongs in the computer, comparing them with the three holes that are supposed to match up with them, making sure they're all in perfect alignment. This prong on the left is tilting a bit forward? He pokes at it with a fingernail. This one in the middle is leaning a tiny bit to the right? He pushes it back to vertical with the pointy end of a house key. ("The right tool for the job" -- that's his motto.) But it still won't fit. If he pokes any more, he could bend something totally out of whack. Then what? If he pushes any harder, he could even snap one of the prongs. Then what? And suddenly, because things aren't dicey enough, the battery indicator goes berserk. The battery indicator, which has been tracking the battery gradually shedding its power, a percentage point at a time, moves in one brain-chilling leap from 67% to 7%. Shut it down! Save your work! Red Alert! Code Blue! Lassie, get help!! He gets help. He grabs a phone directory and races through its pages until he finds "Computers -- Service & Repair." He finds an ad that promises fast service, home service, 24/7 service. He calls and explains his problem. They explain their rates: $98 an hour. Expensive, he thinks, for three prongs and three holes. Then he thinks about the magazine essay sitting half-completed on his hard drive. Thinks about tomorrow's column, not even started, and the one after that and the one after that. Not writing could be expensive, too. It's a deal. An hour later, the repairman arrives. He picks up the uncooperative power cord, moves the plug thingy to the laptop hole, jiggles it. It slides right in. From front door to problem solved: 20 seconds. "That'll be $98," the repairman says. Worth every penny. Posted 11/30/04.
High-tech help? Not from Rick. But high-style commentary? Twice every
week. (Repair your mood.)
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Rick Horowitz
