Blame it on Technology

Earlier this year my laptop started acting hinkier and hinkier. Pages would take forever to load. Simple commands like cut, paste and enter were ignored. It was petulant and pouty and I finally bit the bullet and started shopping for a new one.

I settled on an inexpensive HP with Windows 7 and Explorer 9. I love Macs–my very first computer was a tiny little Mac with an external hard drive that crashed if you looked at it wrong–but I just can’t justify the $$.

So I brought my new HP home and within an hour I was all hooked up to the wifi and the email was working perfectly.

I am technology goddess.

For a day.

Then I went to the New York Times, as I do every day, to work the crossword puzzle.

Of course, this being a new computer, all my saved passwords and settings are gone. No sweat, I thought. I’ll just log in manually and take it from there.

First log in attempt failed.

So did the second one.

By the fifth failed attempt, I got a message that I had tried too many times and to come back later.

Thus began several weeks of frustration and futility. Emails and phone calls only served to reinforce every bad stereotype you’ve ever held about IT geeks. They talked to me like I was 12 in accents I couldn’t fathom. (Probably a good thing, because I’m sure that if I had understood everything they said I would’ve been even madder.)

After a while, I just gave up and for several weeks worked the puzzle at work.

Until yesterday.

I ditched Explorer and downloaded Firefox.

The sun came out. Rainbows arched across my roof. Unicorns and bunnies frolicked in my yard.

Thank you, Mozilla. Wish we’d met sooner.

2 Comments

Filed under At Home

2 responses to “Blame it on Technology

  1. You got unicorns and bunnies? No fair- I just got cookies and lollipops after I recently converted to using Mozilla after weeks of frustrating Internet Explorer hi-jinx.
    It’s the little things in life…

  2. Julie

    Well, I AM that 12 year old that has to call for help to India every now and then. In my worst nightmares I can hear the person on the other end of the phone saying, “Julie? Okay, may I call you Julie? okay then, Julie, here’s what I want you to do. . .”

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