Back in the seventies, desktop computers were coming into vogue and carried a reasonable price tag. Their availability had many people visualizing new careers opening up in computer technology and making big bucks to boot. I got the bug too and purchased an IBM desktop with a 10 Mb hard drive.
Once at home, I couldn’t figure out what to do with it – only type a letter and add a few columns of figures. Like so many that thought their time had come, I didn’t have that computer ‘gene’ or expertise that could have piqued my curiosity to push further.
A few years later a local community college offered courses in computer programming, surely the path to that high paying career. When it came time to learn that popular programming language called COBOL, for some reason which wasn’t through lack of trying, I simply couldn’t get the hang of it despite a robust effort and asking others for support.
The final blow was a final test where I met my Waterloo. What a disaster! That was the end of a new profession before it began but only the beginning of computer related dilemmas ever since.
A change of venue after retirement, my computer woes followed along, a second hard drive failure and loss of data -backup, what’s that? Consistently running into trouble I’d have to call on two gurus I got to know, Phil and/or Sheila P, to bail me out.
To be honest it was dam embarrassing, especially when those major difficulties were simple enough that I should have figured them out on my own.
Increasingly, my computer became predominately used for journalism columns and/or stories and completing grant applications on behalf of the WDRA.
Sometimes my negligence in double-checking the details I would occasionally misspell a name or give credit to someone to whom I hadn’t even talked too. That brought feedback from the editor or the person I had slighted or both.
I was seeing Sheila on weekends, who was still living in Ottawa at the time. We corresponded via emails, some hot and heavy. I guess one I sent went astray. Later at a function in the community hall a different Sheila said to me, “Hello honey, I love you too.” Shocked but quickly realizing I had sent my email to the wrong one.
Two years ago I transitioned to a laptop computer, much more convenient. I assumed my computer glitches would lessen. They didn’t. In the first two months I had it into a repair shop in Pembroke to unblock something I did to freeze it up. I still had Phil and Sheila P on call as well. I casually asked why my camera wasn’t working. The techie pulled an off a strip of tape over the lens, “Now it’s working,” he said.
The most terrible happened.
The morning after a Friday night power outage last fall I tried to get on the internet but couldn’t. I called our provider. “Call back Monday morning,” the message said. Not one technician on duty to help people like me. I fretted all weekend about it.
But not before hooking up my old desktop. Still no luck. I even borrowed a modem, but still couldn’t get on the internet.
It had to be at the provider’s end
Monday morning I called claiming the problem was over there.
She said no and walked me through it. “It’s your modem,” she said. “Bring it over for an exchange.”
I begrudgingly did that and brought the new one back. I still couldn’t get on and phoned back with a message, “that it wasn’t a modem problem.”
In the meantime I tried a dial-up phone on the telephone line cord that I routed through the wall from a closet on the other side. No dial-tone.
I tugged on the line in frustration. A short piece only came out. Mice had gnawed it into two pieces. I replaced that line and everything worked.
Speaking of mice: Sheila had baked a pumpkin pie that day and set in the back kitchen to cool overnight.
Next morning it was clear that a mouse had been nibbling on it during the night – probably not the same mouse though.
