Low-Tech Solutions to High-Tech Problems

I really do hate my computer.

Don't get me wrong; it's a wonderful device. As a communications tool, it enables me to reach people all around the world instantaneously, and send and receive files and images that would otherwise take weeks to process by conventional mail. As a filing system, it can store hundreds of documents and pictures and songs for me, and grant me immediate access to any of them at the touch of a button. As an art tool, it lets me work with thousands of colors without ever having to mix paints or dig out my collection of withering Crayola markers. As a research tool, I can use it to look up any subject, no matter how esoteric, and learn more than I ever wanted to know without ever setting foot inside a library. It's a modern-day miracle that goes far beyond being a simple household convenience. I could get by without a can opener or a toaster oven, but I can't stand the thought of not having my computer.

At the same time, though, it's an infuriatingly delicate creature, fraught with problems at any given time, and I'm roughly as qualified to diagnose and repair its problems as I am qualified to perform open-heart surgery on my cat. (Which reads as "not at all," in case you didn't know.) I like to think I know a fair amount about computers, but they're making them so sophisticated these days that it's impossible to keep up without certified training. (As I write this, there are something like 32 independant processes running in the background. I know what two of them are. Bugger if I know what the rest are up to.)

There's no excuse for any home appliance to be this damn complicated. It would be like having to call tech support every time your refrigerator went on the blink.

ZOB: Hi, I'm having trouble with my fridge. It's not keeping food cold enough.
TECH SUPPORT: Have you tried replacing the light bulb?
ZOB: I did that last week when the light went out.
TECH SUPPORT: Go ahead and replace it again, and tell me the wattage on the bulb.
ZOB: Okay, I've still got one left in the package... it's a 40-watt. And that didn't help.
TECH SUPPORT: What condiments do you have in the door right now?
ZOB: Well, let's see... ketchup, mustard, mayonnaise, pickles, soy sauce, and something that might have once been applesauce. Or horseradish. I'm not sure.
TECH SUPPORT: How many of those do you actually use?
ZOB: Just the ketchup and mayonnaise, mostly.
TECH SUPPORT: Okay, throw all the other ones away.
ZOB: Will that solve the problem?
TECH SUPPORT: No, but you don't need them, right?

It looks ridiculous when you apply it to anything other than Windows XP, doesn't it? That's practically a transcript of the conversation my wife had on the phone yesterday. The problem we were having was that AOL kept crapping out on me every time I closed down a web page. (It was impossible for me to simply circumvent the problem by getting into the habit of leaving windows open after I finished with them. I mean, geez, think of the air conditioning costs.) Apparently there was a corrupt file somewhere, but replacing and reinstalling AOL didn't do the trick.

Of course, my wife found this out after the tech support people told her to delete the program off the computer, including the filing cabinet containing all my saved e-mails, my bookmarks and preferences... yeah, I'm not pleased. They apparently told her that AOL keeps all this stuff on their online servers, which is of course patently false. (People, if you don't know the answer to a question like this, just say you don't know. Yes, I'll probably be irritated at your incompetence, but I'll be even more irritated if you feel me a line just to make it seem like you know what you're talking about.)

So, I decided to just back up all our personal files and restore the whole damn computer to its original factory settings. This, surprisingly, was not the insurmountable task I'd been expecting. I actually started deleting stuff that wasn't vitally necessary, knowing the small box of discs I'd bought forever ago would barely be enough to hold all the programs I needed, let along all the pictures and songs I'd collected. Then I figured I'd go ahead and start anyway, at least to give me an idea of how many more boxes of CD-RW's I'd need to get. As it happened, the four discs I had were more than sufficient. I stuffed all my songs on one disc with room to spare, and leisurely stored all my programs on another with plenty of room to spare. I'm baffled, to be honest. Media storage sure has come a long way since floppy disks.

The system restore went down without a hitch, and now I've begun the task of reinstalling all my programs (AOLPress, Adobe PhotoDeluxe, the driver for my scanner and digital camera, stuff like that). I'd thought that I could just drop the folders into the same spot I'd grabbed them from, but apparently that's not the case. Oh, well. It's tedious, but ultimately nothing I can't handle.

I will just say here that I sure am putting a lot of time and effort into getting this modern-day convenience back up to speed. Almost makes me long for the days of letter-writing and huge stacks of photocopied drawings.