I think I told you all about Pfiona's recent demise due to some type of [insert computer jargon about hardware and software and nanobits or whatever] and God, it's been frustrating. I had thought I'd backed up all my stories on Google Docs, but apparently, I hadn't. Because I secretly love to rewrite things that I'm not sure I can recreate. Yay! I was using Scrivener, which is an awesome program once you figure out how to use it. And when Pfiona bit the dust, I was hoping that, since it was a pretty distinctive ... what are the .doc & .jpg called? Shut up, I can run a computer; I just don't know the names of things.* Either way, they seemed like easily identifiable files, so when we took it to Mouse Calls, one of the local computer repair places my parents have used for years, I was hopeful.
I'm thinking something was lost in translation between Three and the computer dude. And I also think they don't like each other. It's a vibe I get. Either way, they ended up saying that we abandoned our computer, even though we'd call nearly once or twice a week, but their Mac specialist (really, you only have one of those? Please.) was always out offsite for some other, more important client. Three called them up, furious, and was all, "Okay, dickbags, let's get this resolved." He's not one for subtlety, but he is usually much more diplomatic about things. So we got back on track for, like, a week, and now I get this email, saying that they didn't get a response from us.
Um, we have tried to call you. But you guys are open during the times that we are at work, you know, working? And you're not open on Saturdays. Which makes this even more fun. I'm no business guru, but you'd think a computer repair place would at least have someone on staff on the day that most people have off.
And now I'm sounding white-whiny. I'm only slightly ashamed. I just want my files found, if they can be, so I can put them on Google Docs and also write them on notebook paper AND print out hard copies and put them in a fireproof box. I also want to yell at Apple for making such a crappy computer. From what I've been told, Macs are akin to crocodiles: very little changes about them and they last forever. I may have made that up.
Anyway, I got that notification email, which looked kind of like a ledger of some sort, and I figured, well, maybe we'll try this brand spanking new form of communication called electronic mail. I responded to their email, and hopefully, I'll hear back from them that way. It'll be easier than trying to get a hold of an actual person.
Now I'm all grumpy.
Oh. And by the way, Google? I expect some pay out of this free advertising you're getting from me. Not that Google Docs doesn't automatically sell itself. But still.
* This brings me back to Anatomy and Physiology I, where I would make up names for body parts and fissures and ... other terminology. I do remember phalange! Fingers and toes!! But if you're in the operating room, and your nurse looks at you and says, "The thingy is on the bluish black blob on the, I don't know, what side of the body is that? Interior? Post-rear? I have no idea. Either way, it looks like it's going to pop. Here's your doodad." you probably won't have much faith in that nurse, right?
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