Those Unwelcome Words....
Yesterday I spent several hours on the phone with customer support representatives from Well-Known Internet Service Provider, trying to figure out why I could no longer connect to the Internet. It started becoming clear, to me, anyway, that the problem wasn't with the service provider's software, especially after I uninstalled the software on my computer and tried to reinstall it, twice, with two different disks that I had obtained, optimistically, from Department Store that Sounds Like You Should Aim an Arrow at It. The representative from the ISP kept suggesting other things, but I could tell they weren't going to work, and I finally said, almost apologetically, "I'm going to stop now. I think it's something with the computer." I had reached my quota for the day of squinting at the screen and performing frustrating and unfruitful repetitive tasks. Besides, I wanted to get out and at least enjoy the evening, which involved plans to go to a movie with my sister.
Today, almost on a whim, I called the tech support people at the computer manufacturer. I was expecting to get a runaround of some sort, but the person I spoke to, after hearing what was going on, immediately diagnosed the problem as having to do with the operating system. Then he said those words, the ones you dread hearing: "Do you have a lot of data stored on your computer?"
Uh-oh. That usually means, I hope it's data you're not too attached to. Or, I hope you have a means of backing it up before we do some radical rescue operation on your computer.
The tech advised me that I could probably save all of my data on three or four CDs. He said he'd call me back on two hours and see how it went, and walk me through the "restore" process.
Unfortunately, Windows was already so bollixed up that it wouldn't let me record anything on the CDs. I thought, fleetingy, about running out to the store to buy one of those little USB drives (is that what you call them?) that everyone except me seems to have, but then I thought, I'll lose time, he's going to call me in two hours, gotta keep going. (As you can see, I was succumbing to a sort of unreasoning freneticism over this situation, fueled partly, I have to admit, by a strong desire not to miss out on Sunday volleyball with my friends, which was scheduled to start a little bit after that two-hour-away phone date with the tech guy.) So, I resorted, once again, to a technology that I thought I had left behind forever: 3.5" floppy disks (not that they are really floppy, I guess that's a holdover from the 5-inch versions). (I say "once again" because when I upgraded to my current computer two years ago, I had no way to save all the data except by using floppies--the old computer didn't have either a USB port or a CD burner.) So, now, I went rummaging through all those old floppies, trying to find ones that had some room on them or could be recorded over, and then spent about three hours saving what I could, which was mostly all the text files. Pictures, forget about, and also the old e-mail files were much too big. But really, do I need to be mooning over old e-mail messages from two years ago. Sometimes it's good to let go.
The tech guy called me back when he said he would--or actually, a different guy called me at the specified time, but I wasn't quite ready and said he should call me back in a half hour. Then the next follow-up call came from the first guy, which was preferable to me anyway. He took me through the scary part where you press the button that says "restore" (after acknowledging that ALL DATA WILL BE ERASED). Everything started coming up again, I got back on the internet, and started to tackle the antivirus software updates. The tech guy said he would check back with me in 30 minutes. But at that point, my whole being was just screaming to get outside and play volleyball. I was afraid I had already missed the game--maybe not enough people had shown up since it was cloudy and they had already gone home?
I got organized, quickly, left the house, and discovered that what I thought was just a cloudy, overcast day was a rainy day. I was outraged. How could it rain on our volleyball day? But I pushed on to the park, hoping there'd be enough of us out there to play, or that it would stop soon.
I got to the park, just at the same time as one of the guys who rode up on his bicycle, and we were enthusiastically greeted by the three other potential players who were sitting around, unperturbedly, under a tree, along with three of the "volleyball children" (these particular three aged 4, 6, and 8 this year). No net, yet, even though it was late for us, around 3:30, but, yes, the net was on its way, I was told, and sure enough, there was one of other friends, trudging toward us with the net over his shoulder.
The guys put the net up despite the light rain. After the net was up, for some reason,we were still slow to get started, practicing a little bit, kibbitzing, and then I ran a little volleyball clinic for the under-10 crowd, throwing them the ball each in turn and encouraging them to bump it over the net. The older ones could actually do it (okay, they were two feet in front of the net). The really cutest thing was the older ones trying to give tips to the little four-year-old, who is the spritelike little girl I have written about before. "Bend your knees," the six-year-old guy, who is built like a little truck, would say, and even grab her at the waist and try to get her to bend at the kees by tugging her down a little. She shrugged him off, needless to say. Then the eight-year-old, another adorable and sylph-like little girl, would come behind her and try to show her how to hold her arms to bump the ball. "When I move my arms, you move yours," she said.
Eventually we shooed the kids off the court and played volleyball. The rain fell softly, mostly, and didn't bother us too much except that it made the ball wet and heavy. Two guys who were passing by joined us so that we could play four on four. The rain on the wet grass smelled good. The park was mostly ours--very few other people out in the mild rain.
After awhile, it started to rain harder and we all sort of mutually realized it was time to go. But I was grateful that my friends are just as fanatic as I am and that we actually played.
I came home and have had to continue with the computer restoring tasks. But I think it's mostly done now and that it will be fine.
Today, almost on a whim, I called the tech support people at the computer manufacturer. I was expecting to get a runaround of some sort, but the person I spoke to, after hearing what was going on, immediately diagnosed the problem as having to do with the operating system. Then he said those words, the ones you dread hearing: "Do you have a lot of data stored on your computer?"
Uh-oh. That usually means, I hope it's data you're not too attached to. Or, I hope you have a means of backing it up before we do some radical rescue operation on your computer.
The tech advised me that I could probably save all of my data on three or four CDs. He said he'd call me back on two hours and see how it went, and walk me through the "restore" process.
Unfortunately, Windows was already so bollixed up that it wouldn't let me record anything on the CDs. I thought, fleetingy, about running out to the store to buy one of those little USB drives (is that what you call them?) that everyone except me seems to have, but then I thought, I'll lose time, he's going to call me in two hours, gotta keep going. (As you can see, I was succumbing to a sort of unreasoning freneticism over this situation, fueled partly, I have to admit, by a strong desire not to miss out on Sunday volleyball with my friends, which was scheduled to start a little bit after that two-hour-away phone date with the tech guy.) So, I resorted, once again, to a technology that I thought I had left behind forever: 3.5" floppy disks (not that they are really floppy, I guess that's a holdover from the 5-inch versions). (I say "once again" because when I upgraded to my current computer two years ago, I had no way to save all the data except by using floppies--the old computer didn't have either a USB port or a CD burner.) So, now, I went rummaging through all those old floppies, trying to find ones that had some room on them or could be recorded over, and then spent about three hours saving what I could, which was mostly all the text files. Pictures, forget about, and also the old e-mail files were much too big. But really, do I need to be mooning over old e-mail messages from two years ago. Sometimes it's good to let go.
The tech guy called me back when he said he would--or actually, a different guy called me at the specified time, but I wasn't quite ready and said he should call me back in a half hour. Then the next follow-up call came from the first guy, which was preferable to me anyway. He took me through the scary part where you press the button that says "restore" (after acknowledging that ALL DATA WILL BE ERASED). Everything started coming up again, I got back on the internet, and started to tackle the antivirus software updates. The tech guy said he would check back with me in 30 minutes. But at that point, my whole being was just screaming to get outside and play volleyball. I was afraid I had already missed the game--maybe not enough people had shown up since it was cloudy and they had already gone home?
I got organized, quickly, left the house, and discovered that what I thought was just a cloudy, overcast day was a rainy day. I was outraged. How could it rain on our volleyball day? But I pushed on to the park, hoping there'd be enough of us out there to play, or that it would stop soon.
I got to the park, just at the same time as one of the guys who rode up on his bicycle, and we were enthusiastically greeted by the three other potential players who were sitting around, unperturbedly, under a tree, along with three of the "volleyball children" (these particular three aged 4, 6, and 8 this year). No net, yet, even though it was late for us, around 3:30, but, yes, the net was on its way, I was told, and sure enough, there was one of other friends, trudging toward us with the net over his shoulder.
The guys put the net up despite the light rain. After the net was up, for some reason,we were still slow to get started, practicing a little bit, kibbitzing, and then I ran a little volleyball clinic for the under-10 crowd, throwing them the ball each in turn and encouraging them to bump it over the net. The older ones could actually do it (okay, they were two feet in front of the net). The really cutest thing was the older ones trying to give tips to the little four-year-old, who is the spritelike little girl I have written about before. "Bend your knees," the six-year-old guy, who is built like a little truck, would say, and even grab her at the waist and try to get her to bend at the kees by tugging her down a little. She shrugged him off, needless to say. Then the eight-year-old, another adorable and sylph-like little girl, would come behind her and try to show her how to hold her arms to bump the ball. "When I move my arms, you move yours," she said.
Eventually we shooed the kids off the court and played volleyball. The rain fell softly, mostly, and didn't bother us too much except that it made the ball wet and heavy. Two guys who were passing by joined us so that we could play four on four. The rain on the wet grass smelled good. The park was mostly ours--very few other people out in the mild rain.
After awhile, it started to rain harder and we all sort of mutually realized it was time to go. But I was grateful that my friends are just as fanatic as I am and that we actually played.
I came home and have had to continue with the computer restoring tasks. But I think it's mostly done now and that it will be fine.
posted by Sarah Sometimes at 11:20 PM
2 Comments:
1. Computer problems suck.
2. I'm glad you guys met for volleyball; that sounds super fun, even though I'm the worst volleyball player on earth.
3. This--"Department Store that Sounds Like You Should Aim an Arrow at It"--cracked me up.
Todd, glad I made you laugh. Thanks for the comment.
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