Star Trek Saved My Life

    My computer had some serious problems.  I don't know if you remember when I wrote about Howie's Obituary (or H.P. as I like to call him), but he came back from the dead and has caused all sorts of problems again.

Note: This is some other computer (not Howie).
I feel bad for the poor sap who owned this one though--tough break.

    So, I hate it when I have computer problems, not just because it keeps me from blogging, but it means I have to go to the best repair shop in town.  The place is great, really, but the employees make me nervous.

    They are so witty and smart.  They joke about source codes, Microsoft, floppies, Roms.  Can I just tell you that I have NO IDEA what they are saying, and as sad as this is, it sounds gross half of the time.

    One time I went in there and the guy said, "Oh, Dale's back," because he talks about computers like they can hear him.  "I LOVE this guy, his hard drive is amazing!"
    "T-M-S-I-D-K," the other guy said.
    "What does that mean?" I asked, thinking it was some new technology.
    "Tell me something I don't know."  They both chuckled.
    "There are two types of people," the main guy whispered A BIT TOO LOUD, "people who know binary code and those who don't."
    They laughed so hard.  But I didn't think it was funny.  Not at all.

    Do all techs talk like that, his hard drive is amazing . . . vs. what

. . . floppy?  Plus, hearing a straight man talk like that about another "he" just seems odd.  I could go on and on about how I feel like I'm really in a brothel and not a repair shop when I visit the computer tech place, but I'll stop that particular train wreck here.

    Anyway, I hate going in there because I can't stop thinking terrible things as the two guys talk.  Then I giggle and they stare at me like I've lost my memory space.  So, last time, just before I went in, I called one of my best friends, D. S. Tracy (from My Life In Writing).  
    "It gets really awkward in there," I said.  "And I couldn't learn binary code over night."
    "Do you still have my ringer as Star Trek on your phone?" she asked.

    "Yeah."

    "Well, I'll call you right as you walk in.  Then maybe you can talk to them about Spock instead of who has the best software."  We both laughed.

    "All right.  It's a deal.  I'll walk into that place in less than a minute. You sure you're up for this?" I asked.

    "Yep, talk to you in a sec."

    We hung up and I went into the repair shop/brothel.  You should have heard the language that flew when I told the main guy what problems my computer has.  

    "She brought Dale back," the guy said, grinning at his repair lackey.  "Oh, wow, he's had better days.  Don't worry, lots of old guys like him have problems with their hard drives going soft, losing memory . . .  Heck, some of the young ones do it too, but the higher-ups don't want us telling you that--you'd never commit, to purchasing, in the first place.  But it does affect every little guy at some point or another.  Do you know what I mean, about young ones going soft early on?"  He raised a brow. 

    What the Hell?  Was he messing with me, or just talking computer?

    I couldn't get thoughts of Viagra out of my mind.  I was a sinner!  I'd just gone to get my computer fixed and I decided that guy needed to pop pills!  I'd turned into a judgmental customer--the worst kind--and the laughter was about to set in.  But I didn't want him thinking I'm a perv.  So, I pulled a religious, I'm-a-prude face and nodded.  "I don't know much about computers."  

    "Really?" he asked.

    I prayed my friend would call.  Please call, I nearly burst with amusement, please!  Star Trek could save me from awkwardness, while Viagra and Zyprexa were the two things that could help the computer guy!

    "So, what else is going on with your computer?" he asked, that guy who probably hasn't had a date (with a human) in ten years.

    "I can't seem to access the internet."

    He chortled.  "Ah, I see.  The internet, where men are men, women are men, and children are FBI agents."

    I just stared at him.

    "Well," he pointed to his co-worker, "he'll take care of the rest of your order.  He might not be as user friendly as I am, but no one's perfect.  He'll tell you how long it'll be and all that good stuff."

    The Lackey, walked over.  His eyes darted nervously.  He isn't friendly like the other guy and he talks really softly--in letter form (you know with a lot of LOLs and TMIs).  
    "This'll be a . . . This'll take . . ."  I hoped he wouldn't rearrange the alphabet again.  I could take the stuttering, just not the alphabet challenge.

    Where was my phone call?  I felt like an inmate.  Sometimes one call can save your life! 
    Star Trek can lighten even the strangest mood.  If he just heard my ringer, everything would be better.  I even stalled for a moment, hoping the call would come, but it didn't until I was leaving through the door.  The Lackey heard my ringer and shouted before I answered my phone, "Star Trek!  I love Star Trek."

    So, I survived the store.  I even got my computer a few hours later.  Other than the door slamming on me (which it does to everyone even ask Melynda) everything went all right.  When I went back in, they joked about Captain Kirk and Spock.  The atmosphere went from toxic, to vibrant, and it was all because of one call.  It's all because Star Trek saved my life. 

    Have you ever heard of computer lingo going wrong?  Am I nuts, or do you think it can sound bad too?