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It’s one of those horror stories that make writers and people who use computers shudder. It has never happened to me before but I have come close a couple of times and I have always counted my blessings for that fact. But my luck finally ran out this morning when I sat down to finish this week’s column and nothing was there. Everything I had worked on into the wee morning hours was gone. Had I not run out of gas it would have been finished, I was 95% done.
At first I thought, well this is just a minor glitch like those close calls I’ve had in the past. So I started going through the usual motions that had always worked before. I did a search, checked associated files, and then did it all again. This is about the limit to my knowledge of the inner workings of my computer. After going through these motions a few more times and the caffeine and adrenaline had kicked in, it was quickly followed by a deep sense of dread. That, of course, led to the next step which was out and out panic. Which in my case is hysterical panic, I have a hard time doing anything half way.
After all, writing this little gem every week is, to put it mildly, sometimes frustrating and always time consuming and that’s when everything is going right. As it is I always seem to be the last horse to the stable as far as all of the writers at this paper go and whenever possible I try to get a head start. So this week at the urging of my wife and the continual urging of my editor I thought I would, instead of waiting for the last minute, get a jump on it. Well, as they say, no good deed goes unpunished.
With my limited knowledge of computers exhausted I turned to my in house counsel, my wife Stacey, who was already at work. She tried her best as she always does to navigate me through the maze of hell known as my computer. We tried our best but to no avail and the clock was ticking. My deadline would be upon me before I knew it. So there was only time for one last-ditch effort. I bid farewell to Stacey and dialed the number for my last resort, my computer wizard.
It was time to call on the big gun, the one person I knew that could possibly solve my problem on the phone, my computer guru Gregg Lansley. After all he was the one who has kept this computer alive for longer than it probably should have. He had nursed it along and built it up beyond what its initial capability was. Since his last surgery it has been working great, in fact better than it ever has. He was my final hope to figure out why this beast was being so obstinate. But even Dr. Lansley couldn’t do anything over the phone and was at a loss as to what I had done to cause this catastrophe. The only aid he could offer was to make a house call with no guarantee that he would have a solution once he did so.
The writing was on the wall. Despite Dr. Lansley’s prowess at the computer I couldn’t run the risk of him not finding the first article, and losing precious time before the deadline was upon me. I resolved myself to the only solution, to start a new article. I checked out with the doctor and moved on and began to focus on the problem at hand, trying to reconstruct what I had already written the day and night before. As I began writing, the words were not coming as they had before. As I stared at the illuminated screen, I was screaming curse words in my head and mumbling under my breath about what I would do to it if I weren’t in the position I was currently in.
Instead of writing, I began to fantasize possible scenarios as to how to execute this little monster that had devoured my words. I could drag the entire system up to the roof and hurl it to the ground below. I could go borrow a 12-gauge shotgun from my dad and have a little target practice. Go buy some acid and melt it into a molten pile of gooey plastic. Or better still take it over to the railroad tracks and wait for the next train to come by and watch with glee, as its “all knowing” ass gets dragged to oblivion. OK Bill get off it, you have a deadline to meet.
The article wasn’t coming back, now or ever. Sure I could remember what the topic was; ironically it was called “Lost Time” about people and things that waste my time. It was as though some cosmic joke was being played on me. After listing all of the things that I was dwelling on at the time I was writing the first article, the one thing that I didn’t mention was, of course, my computer. I guess the computer gods showed me. “So opinion boy, you forgot to mention us in your article huh, well let us give you a little taste of what ‘Lost Time’ is all about.” OK, OK I give.
I’m sorry this one is a little shorter than usual but trust me when I tell you that it’s really twice as long as what you see. If you don’t believe me, ask your computer.
The Shrub Speaks: It's such a comforting sense for me to be able to tell a loved one, your person hurt, your loved one will get the best care possible. Walter Reed Army Medical Center, Washington, D.C., Nov. 9, 2004
B.D.’s Response: HUH????
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