So today at the church office, where I pretend to be a really grand secretary two days every week, our computers were down, and I had to deal with this:
I know that there are probably three people in this world who will say, “That’s a MINIATURE network of wires! It’s so tiny! Is that a system for Whoville?” Where I’m concerned, that miniature system might just as well have housed every connecting cable to ever residential and commercial computer in the whole of New York City.
Plus Los Angeles.
I do actually know a couple of fellows who are fairly good with computers, so I fired off some text messages first thing this morning, which went ignored. I followed those up with mid-morning texts, close-to-lunch-time texts, even-closer-to-lunch-time-texts, and lunch-time texts, and then I decided that my number had been blocked, because I was flat-out ignored.
Naturally, I will remember The Day Hubs Ignored My SOS For Computer Network CPR when Hubs asks, “Hey! Do I have any clean Carhartt jeans?”
When we all came to the obvious conclusion that I was being ignored, I decided to ask the pastors to prepare Hubs and myself for some intense marriage counseling sessions, and then we placed the call to a non-English-speaking fellow for tech support.
I’m sure that I was nothing short of a Blessed Vision, as I stood on a chair upstairs in the church’s attic, so that I could see the back of the modem, while I had my cell phone squished between my shoulder and my ear and asked, “Um, which one of these things is our modem?” Because yes. The guy who doesn’t speak English, but who is perfectly qualified to tell me how to fix my computer networking system, could clearly SEE the three electronic devices that I was contemplating.
And listen, people. I stood on that chair, with my neck cramping from squeezing the phone to my head, while I used both free hands to trace wires. Yes, the green wire was fully connected on both ends. And then he asked about the blue wire, and listen! I just plum shut up on the phone and tried to pretend that I even knew which blue wire he was talking about, because of WOW! THAT’S A LOT OF BLUE ONES!
I’m sure that it comes as no surprise that, in the end, we scheduled a time for tomorrow morning when someone from Tech Support could actually come out and look at the snarled mess of wires, and our appointment was set up for SOMETIME BETWEEN 8 AM AND NOON.
And believe me! I’d like to have hours like that, and tell the principal at school, “You know, I think I’ll be in sometime between 8:00 tomorrow morning and lunchtime to teach PE.”
Well, Hubs finally remembered to turn his phone’s text messaging volume ON, and he came to our rescue, so I cancelled the appointment for marriage counseling AND the appointment for SOMETIME BETWEEN 8 AM AND NOON. Because Hubs? Well, it took him all of eighteen seconds to tell me, “This is NOT where your problem is at. Your problem is in your D Link. Where is your D Link located?”
I think it’s pretty safe to say that all I heard Hubs ask is, “Nhpt inebb rth bpximonn th*#rbk qjeern?” Because really? I am NOT fluent in any language that includes the term D LINK. I called Susan from the attic on my cell phone, since she was in the church’s front office, eighteen floors and thirty-two miles below me. I asked her, “Nhpt inebb rth bpximonn th*#rbk qjeern?” Unfortunately, my accent was so off in this foreign language, Susan had to say, “What’s a D LINK?”
Hubs sighed. He sighed that sigh which is usually reserved for PEOPLE HE IS VERY FRUSTRATED… YET STILL IN LOVE… WITH. And then he said, “Ask her if there is a modem by your photocopier that actually has the words D LINK printed on it.”
Well, then! Why didn’t he just cut to the chase a lot sooner? Because the confirmation came, loud and clear, over my cell phone, as Susan yelled, “YES! Yes, it’s here! Look! This says D LINK on it! It’s here! We found it!”
And because I was eighteen floors and thirty-two miles ABOVE Susan, her telling me to look at the words D LINK was a lot like me asking the non-English-speaking techie which box was my modem.
And THAT, people, is a language I understand.
Hubs and I made the journey back downstairs, where it took him another eight minutes to let us know that the flux cupacitator in our D Link needed it’s plutonium cells recharged and its tension voltage rerouted. And… Two entire minutes after that, the church’s computers went LIVE AND BACK ONLINE, people.
Hubs is a miracle worker.
Other than the small fact that he never turns the volume on for his text messages.
Other than THAT, he’s perfect.
And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to fill out my report card grades for all of my PE classes. I’m flunking the little fellow who told me that I couldn’t be a princess without my crown, and I’m giving an A+++ to the little gal who asked if she could just call me Miss America, since that’s who I actually look like.
Have a great weekend, people.