This newest story is from Giuseppe Leone of Kaneohe, Hawaii.

Computer Age

By Giuseppe Leone

My wife and I share many values. But somehow we have never managed to share the same computer. She has her own, in one room; and I have mine, somewhere else. The other evening, her computer broke down under mysterious circumstances. The way she put it, it had worked fine the night before, but now it did not work at all. Nothing showed up on the monitor, and no sound came out the computer unit. The whole thing seemed to be kind of dead.

Having no practical sense of things, I instinctively asked myself: How can a computer work fine on one evening and then become depressingly dead the next day? I tried to remember what had happened around the house the night before. But I could not find anything unusual: My wife, our four cats and I had been sleeping all night, with all lights off.

I then realized that computers, much like human beings, do not necessarily warn us before they pass away, with something like: I am terribly sorry, but this was our last day together. After you turn me off this last time, I will be gone. Take care.

So, instead of comparing computers´ and human beings´ behavior, I decided to take some action and do something about it. I switched the power button on, and noticed something weird. The monitor had stayed on only for a couple of seconds, and then went off again. It was like it was trying to tell us: why don´t you guys leave me alone; can´t you see I am dead? I intuitively felt there was something fishy with that monitor. But I did not know how to prove it.

What I did know was that my wife was expecting me to come up with some brilliant idea for fixing her computer. Therefore, I calmly suggested that, before making any decision, we should consult a qualified technician to determine whether the problem was only with the computer unit, the monitor, or both.

First thing in the morning, I was patiently waiting in line at the repair service desk of the biggest computer store in town.

The young technician who was supposedly glad to help me, asked immediately how old the computer was. That´s nonsense, I thought. Computers are not like human beings, who can get old and eventually die, even if they do nothing their entire lives. Why isn´t he asking me how often and how long my wife has been using her computer, to find out more about its actual usage, rather than its age?

More than a bit suspicious about the motive behind the technician´s question, I decided to blatantly lie: Instead of saying five years, I told the guy that the computer was only three years old.

Sure enough, he then tried to convince me that three years for a computer is like ninety years for a human being: It was long enough to replace my wife´s old computer with a new one, for only $600 - $700. While he was quick to recommend some special offers they had just for a few more days, he asked nothing about the monitor.

I have always hated that verb "replace". I don´t like replacing anything in my life: habits, shoes, pyjamas. Perhaps because I fear that pretty soon someone may start wondering whether I should be replaced myself, or simply deleted like a computer file.

In any event, while I do not know a lot about computers, I certainly know enough about sales ploys to recognize that that particular computer expert was more interested in his sales commission than bringing the computer back to life. I still had no reliable information about the disease, coma, or possibly death of my wife´s computer. Therefore, I decided to take it across town, where 8 years ago I had found a great computer repair store: small, a bit messy, but run by very kind people.

With the computer unit clutched in my arms like a sick - and pretty heavy - baby, I walked to the second floor of a two-story shopping center, impatiently searching for my reliable store.

Damned global economy! That store, my store, was long gone out of business. In its place, there was now an astrologer. I must admit that, being a Pisces, I have always been fascinated by astrology. And yet I found it hard to believe that an astrologer, even a reputable one, could be of much help in this case.

I decided it was about time to brief my wife on how little was going on. As I did not have the 50 cents for the pay phone, I trudged into a nearby post office on the first floor, always holding the computer unit firmly in my arms.

I figured that people who work in shops close to a pay phone must hate and feel demeaned when someone comes in and asks them for some change, without buying anything. So, out of respect for the Post Office clerk´s sense of dignity, instead of asking bluntly for change, I asked to buy a book of self-peel stamps. When I was about to receive the change, I then politely asked the clerk to give me four quarters, instead of a dollar note. Sorry, the clerk said in a stern voice: No change.

My argument that getting some quarters was the very reason for my buying a book of stamps did not fly. From her smirk, it was abundantly clear that the clerk had heard the same story, and perhaps even the same words, a few hundred times before. Her only suggestion was to buy one more stamp. And so, aware that preserving my mental sanity and good spirits was worth more than 34 cents, I decided to accept that suggestion. And, indeed, it worked.

I called my wife, and we agreed that I would try and find a reliable computer repair store in our neighborhood.

An hour later, I thought I had found one. I was standing in front of a closed black door with no sign on it, still clutching the computer unit in my arms. When the door suddenly swung open, I let out a sigh of relief: It was indeed a computer repair store, and the kind I like: small and a bit messy.

The person who served me took the computer unit gently from my arms, and put it on a white, round table. He turned the power on. And bingo: the computer unit worked just fine, there was absolutely nothing wrong with it. So it must be the monitor, he and I immediately concluded. I dashed outside and fetched it from the trunk of my car. Before turning the monitor on, this unknown wizard put his out-of-date glasses on and adjusted the monitor cable just a little bit, with a tiny screwdriver. Like most surgeons, he did not say a word. I could hardly wait any longer. He turned the monitor on. And bingo again: Also the monitor worked great. Everything worked great. It was only the monitor cable that needed some attention.

When my wife got home in the evening, I made sure her five year old computer was properly installed and on. Big smile, big hug. Nothing had really changed from two nights before, except that her computer was now a day older. And so were we.

# # #