By Gwen Rockwood, newspaper columnist and mama of 3
There’s an easy way to tell whether or not you have an unhealthy attachment to your computer: How do you react when it might be broken?
It happened to me last week, so the feelings are still fresh. It was a normal Thursday, and I fired up my laptop to start the day’s work. But something seemed off. I clicked in all the usual places to open my email, but the computer didn’t respond. It just stared back at me from its home screen, refusing to work.
Anxiety stirred in my stomach. “Oh, no. Not this. Please don’t be broken. Please.”
There’s never a good time for a computer to go down, but they always seem to conk out when there are things to do that really can’t wait. Because I work from home, there was no IT guy to call for immediate help. So I started googling the symptoms.
The list of possible causes stretched on and on. A virus? Bad battery? Screen freeze? There was no way to know for sure what was wrong. So I tried the one go-to move I’ve had luck with in the past. I shut it down and restarted.
But when the computer flickered back to life, it was just as unresponsive to my commands as the first time. Suddenly I saw all my data flash before my eyes. Was my electronic work partner about to code on the table? Would my stored passwords perish? Would this obliterate my bookmarks? And even more importantly, how was I going to get anything done without this 5-pound slab of super-smart metal and plastic?
Desperation slithered up from a deep pit of dread. I knew what would happen next. I’d have to pack up the patient and rush him to the only computer doctor I trust. As good as he is, I knew he’d probably need a few days to diagnose and treat whatever tragic illness had befallen my foldable friend. I’d have to figure out how to work without the one thing I truly need when I’m at work.
Sure, I’ve got backup systems and that mysterious “cloud” for document storage. But a laptop you’ve worked on for months or years becomes more like your digital home. You know exactly where to look to find what you need. You’ve learned all its nooks and crannies. The last thing you want is to go buy a new “home” and then spend days trying to get it set up just like the last one.
Fearful that my laptop was on the brink of an electronic flatline, I leaned down close and whispered a plea. “Don’t you dare die on me. Not this week. Just stay with me.”
That’s when the lopsided dynamics of this situation became disturbingly clear. I need this computer way more than it needs me. I’m the dependent in this weird relationship, and I don’t quite know what to do without it.
So I tried Control-Alt-Delete and a bunch of other rapid-fire clicks in a last-ditch effort to save my workweek. In the midst of all that crazed clicking, I accidentally stumbled on the source of my crisis. Somehow, the function of the buttons on my computer mouse had traded places. The left click was acting like the right click, and vice versa. Once I figured out how to correct it, the computer worked fine again. Peace and productivity had been restored.
I blew out a ragged breath and ran my hand over the smooth cover of my laptop. “That was a close call, buddy. I thought I’d almost lost you.”
Even though the computer’s near-death experience was short-lived, the thirty minutes I spent fearing the worst made me realize just how much I rely on this mercurial machine. Maybe stores should sell computers in pairs — one to use and one to be its identical twin and instant stand-in when a digital disaster strikes.
In the meantime, protect your hard drives, my friends. And backup your electronic buddies. You never know which click might be its last.
Gwen Rockwood is a syndicated freelance columnist. Email her at gwenrockwood5@gmail.com. Her book is available on Amazon.