Technology tantrums abound in computer store
Dorothy HarrisMy laptop croaked. Oh, it's made threats before, but this time was different. There were no error messages or fanfare, it simply made a snapping sound, then rewarded me with what a coworker termed the "black screen of death."
Published: December 20, 2012
Published: December 20, 2012
Some would rejoice thinking of the joy new technology brings. I am a bit more reserved. Never the impulsive shopper, unless we are talking about shoes or gourmet chocolate, I find this a form of serious frustration. Mr. Harris has his own opinions on the matter.
"You are not allowed to go technology shopping with me anymore," he declared, after several hours.
"Yeah," the teen agreed, "from now on, you wait in the car!" Before you think my family is out of line, I will add that the helpful guys at the office store would probably concur with their statements.
Mr. Harris had suggested a smaller, more portable laptop because I whined about how darn heavy mine was. I agreed, but entering the store, I spied a slick, shiny new tablet. It was mesmerizing. In my hands, I held the grooviest thing I have ever seen.
The sales guy saw stars in my eyes and began reeling me in, while Mr. Harris headed to the laptops. He was looking for what I actually needed. I, on the other hand, was bonding with the sales guy, and deciding what I wanted was this awesome tablet. Round and round we went until all - me, Mr. Harris, the kid and the sales guy - began to feel the frustrations of my indecision.
Then they dashed my dreams. I was informed the fabulous tablet would not communicate with my other devices. I was ready to scream like a youngster at Wal-Mart. No! Say it isn't true! La, la, la, I'm not listening. Why won't all these great products play nicely together? Apparently it doesn't like my phone, my music library would be lost, and I could forget about formatting books. I started to pout.
"I should never have taken you to look," Mr. Harris remarked. He was right, I was frustrated and trying to figure out what to buy was exhausting. Realizing the tablet was not quite the replacement for a laptop was such a letdown. Seeing me crash from my electronic bliss, the kid stepped in. "We need to go eat," she declared, effectively calling a timeout.
We finished dinner and our fortune cookies revealed it all. Mine said, "You will travel to many places." "Oh no, you won't," Mr. Harris insisted. "You are not going next time. I'll buy it myself so we don't have to go through all this." He then read his fortune. "You are expensive," he said loudly, smirking at me, "No, actually it says, you are expressive in word, act and feeling. Oh yeah, I'm feeling pretty expressive right now after all of this," he declared. "You know she's going to use this in her article next week," the kid warned. "Only if I can get a computer," I reminded her. "You can always use hers," Mr. Harris replied.
Well, I'm using my kid's laptop as Mr. Harris sets up my new one - the one he went and bought for me this morning. True to his word, he went alone. Actually, I don't know who's more thankful: me, the sales guy or him. Thanks Love, I appreciate it and I'm sure the guys at the office store breathed a sigh of relief when they saw you come in alone.