The Chronicles of Kate ... Part 1

When last I left you, Dave, the technocrat from the computer repair~o~shop, had left me with the dire and apparently heinous task of calling Hewlett Packard to order a new power supply for my poor little Nimrod, the proverbial fish out of water, AKA known as my tower, CPU or ... my very affectionate term for it ... "Come on!!! You little MF!!! Little did I know what a horrendous journey I was about to embark upon, the nasty epithets I would utter and the very souls I would damn to hell! Good God! Who would have known that having a dying computer would reduce me to a craven hag ready to kill, maim and mutilate???

     So, on Monday I called Hewlett~Packard, pushing all the requisite buttons ... you all know the drill ... "Hit #1 if you breathe oxygen. Hit #2 if you breathe fire after a Taco Bell burrito.  Hit #3 if your father knew your mother in the biblical sense. Hit #4 if you witnessed a second full moon in any given month with a "D" in it, blah, blah, blah." Stupid me, I made the mistake of pressing the "ENGLISH" button, whereupon I was immediately sentenced to Hindu Hell.

     Now before anyone thinks I am a complete xenophobe <or an atheistic heathen>, let me assure you that there is almost nothing I love more than an accent ... it makes me totally wet between the thighs in most cases! But! There is something decidedly wrong about trying to communicate with a foreign accent when neither of you can understand the other in any way, shape or form and there is no latex, silk or faux fur involved!

     Hell, where was I? Oh, yeah. I dialed the 800 number, selected English as my language of choice and was immediately thrown into complete and utter chaos, the very tower of "Babble~On," if you get my drift ... I am speaking English, right? 

     Spokesperson #1 was a very lovely woman who proceeded to tell me in a musically sing~song voice that my serial number was wrong, most terribly and sincerely wrong and that she could be of no further assistance to me until I purged my bladder and bowels upon an altar built of hairballs ... okay, that's what I THINK she said! She encouraged me to call back once I had gotten the secret information right. There you go! And there I went. I made myself a hearty bowl of oatmeal, drowned it in single~malt Scotch and proceeded to call the computer shop and get the right info!

     Evidently Dave was given the Black Sabbath off and I encountered a reasonable facsimile of a human being named Brian who was only too happy to check out Nimrod and after asking me for the password, the day of my last period and who the Secretary of State <that's Condoleeza Rice for those of you who are still carrying Colin Powell decoder rings> is this month, gave me the correct serial number and not the obviously bogus and counterfeit number I have been using all this time to scam innocent victims in countries where we have outsourced perfectly good jobs that could go to people here who would like to earn a decent living. <Oh, hell! That screeching sound you're hearing is my lifelong Democrat ankle bracelet alerting Mr. Bush and his spymasters that I have uttered an un-American sentiment and am probably offering aid and comfort to our enemies right this second.> Whew! I really need to go find myself a politics board and vent!!! Thanks for giving me some leeway and my apologies to all of you for blathering here among our very social group!

     And so, ladies, let me continue ... at this point, I was armed with the right serial number and so I called HP back and was treated to yet another delightful person speaking with a decidedly Indian accent. Perhaps I'm wrong? Do Indians sound the same as Pakistanis? Do Pakistanis sound the same as Israelis? Do Israelis sound the same as Haitians? You see my dilemma. All I know is that my new HP rep sounded like no one I had ever met! He listened to my saga and then began to tell me that there was nothing he could do for me. "Please Lady, leave me alone! Call your Mother, Sister, Brother!!!" And then there was this pregnant pause ... Must have been the BranJolina moment ... "Here Lady, call Sales! They will surely have your power thing .... power thing! Yes, indeed!" At this point my latest chum sent to sales, where I met a real live genuine charmer named Gayla! A red~blooded southern~accented sweetheart who informed me that there wasn't a damned thing she could do for me since HP had deserted my beloved Nim. "What???" I cried,"Nim is just a child! Not even four years old! Are you really going to sit there and tell me he's terminal?"

     Unfortunately, that was the case. HP is on the short track. Computer more than two years old? Screw you! Hahaha! Buy another one! Hahaha!

     "I'm sorry," Gayla said with a smile in her voice, "your computer is a dinosaur, a relic and we no longer give a rat's ass about helping you! The power supply you desire is yesterday's news! In case you need clarification ... WE DON'T MAKE IT ANYMORE!!! May I suggest a new computer? An HP of course!!!"

     "Oh, gosh!" I found myself hissing back, "You are just as sweet as pie, but I'm afraid that I may just have to take my business elsewhere should it turn out that the computer~repair~o~shop can't find a stray little power supply that needs a home. Perhaps," I added devilishly, "Dell would like my business!"

     "Oh, hahaha!" Gayla trilled happily, "Dell does the same thing we do, hunny!" So, it was true then, all these wonderful computers I see advertised each and every hour on my TV are simply models of built~in obsolescence and I'm doomed to heartache no matter where I turn ... I'm wiping a tear away here, but know that I am also in possession of a Gayla voodoo doll dressed in a Klan sheet that I'm setting on fire with Jim Beam as an accelerant.

     And so, my dears, I've come to the end of my saga ... almost. I called PC Brokers and was told that they did have the power supply I needed. I think they found it under a pile of old floppy disks in the dilapidated shed at the end of the parking lot, but no matter ... little Nimrod is home once again and has been working just fine except for this annoying pop~up thing that shows up telling me that my "virtual memory is low." If anyone knows how to fix that little pita, let me know.