Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Tomato, Tahmhato...

*Note: I am SO not making fun of these people. They are super awesome, and I wouldn't last one day in their position.
Computers stink.

Did you know?

A few days ago, my computer turned off randomly. I was like, "What the hay?" and rebooted.

Then, it did it again, and I was like, "WHAT THE HAY!?!" and rebooted.

Then I remembered that long tradition of actually cleaning your computer.

Gee...

So, I ran my virus thing, and thought, "Okay, now everything will be better."

The virus thingy said, "Hi, now that we have detected and removed valuable software, er...I mean infected files, let's do a boot-time scan."

"Okay," I said.

*click click*

Boottime scan: IN-FECTED FiLeS, KILL!

*REBOOT*

I sat expectantly...

And my computer decided that it would be fun to show me static and vertical lines.

I wasn't pleased.

I tried to fix it myself, and that didn't work.

So, next best thing: Call Dad.

(This whole time I had Chris' voice chanting in my head, "DON'T BUY HP! DON'T BUY HP!" *sniff*)

"DAD! HELP ME!" I cried (well, not really, but that's what I was thinking in my head.).

Dad's help boiled down to calling up Costco and chewing them out.

I'm not a chew-er-out-er.

So, I did the next best thing: Call Jeremy.

Jeremy, knee deep in other people's problems, had no advice to offer except, "Call HP."

I squirmed and threw a mental tantrum on my mental floor.

"But, I don't waaaaannnnnttt to!" I screamed (not really...I said something like, "But I don't have their nuuummmmmbbbberrrrr!")

He had to go, so I had to do something else: Look for HP's number.

It was too easy to find. No more mental tantrums. I hate it when I can't have mental tantrums.

So, I called HP.

*ring ring* "Welcome to HP! What would you like to do?"

"Uh...Tech Support?"

"Okay, you said, "Tech Support?" Would you like to make that a statement?"

"Tech Support." I stated flatly.

"Alright, we will transfer you to our next available technician."

*Obligatory elevator music*

Waiting....

*Ring ring*

"Hello," a young, obviously Russian, woman answered. "My name is Payenka, can I have youhr birthday, phone nhumber, social security nhumber, address, licience nuhmber, visa nuhmber, youhr weight, height, and your favorite cohlor please?"

"Uh...Okay.."


After the pleasantries were taken care of we got down to business.

Mostly it seemed like she wanted me to keep turning on and off my computer.

"Dude," I felt like saying. "You think I haven't tried that a whole bunch of times?"

After that didn't work, she had me do a few rain dances, gregorian chants, and some Tai Bo.

"Okay," she finally said. "It loohks like it's not youhr hard drhive, and muhst be something ehlse..."

"Finally, we're getting somewhere..." I grumbled to myself.




"Hmmm...."she replied sagely. "Let me put youh on hold for a mohment...."




Waiting....More obligatory elevator music.




"Dah-Rah? Youh still there?"




"Yes," I replied, trying to keep my head from imploding.




"Hokay, I cahn't heelp you anymhore, my compu-ter is dohwn, so youh wihll nheed to cahll bahck in 1 or 2 hours, and tahlk to another technicee-an. So, tell them what we have dohne, and tell them we had two steeps remaining, and we will send you a graphics cahrd, and if that dohesn't wohrk, we wihll take youhr machine, fihx it freeh of cohst, and then sheep hit bahckh toh youhrh doorstehp-hhhhh."




It all sounded so easy and pleasant.




"Okay," I replied, deflating a little. "Thank you so much."

"It wahs nice tah-king to you, Dah-Rah,"




Jeremy came home about this time, and tried to make his way through the jello-like atmosphere I had created around myself and the dead computer.




"DON'T PIERCE THE MOURNING BUBBLE!" I screamed, but all he could hear was, "Woh woh woh woh woh woh!" because of said jello-atmosphere.




Suddenly the one to two hours was up, and I called HP back.




*ring ring*




"Hello, welcome to HP! This is a totally different menu from the last one you used! Tell me what you would like to do."




"Tech Support..." I wept into the phone.




"Okay, you Tech Support, is that right?"




"Yeeeesss..."




"Our next available technician will be right with you."




*different, yet slightly more aggravating elevator music*




*ring ring*




"Hello," a young, obviously Indian man answered. "My name is Punpoiepoigpoiqpoieurngiopo, can you give me your name, social security number, size of shoe, pants, shirt, the last known location of your cat, and all the names of family members you can remember on your father's mother's uncle's first wife's farm hand's bible dictionary?"




"Wha-???"




"*garbling something unintelligible* house on fire *garble garble* voodoo babies *garble garble* what seems to be the problem?"




I heaved a large sigh, and started into it, explaining all that Payenka and I had done.




Punpoiepoigpoiqpoieurngiopo wasn't interested in what we had done, since there was no "case file," presumably because her computer was down at the time, and she couldn't make one.




So, Punpoie had me turn the computer on and off and on and off, and I kept doing it wondering why I had to persist in this stupidity.




When that didn't work he switched gears and had me open the tower.




Oooooo...




He had me unplug this, and unplug that, replug everything, turn on the computer, and when that didn't work, do it all over again, but this time switching the wires, and patting my head and rubbing my belly while I walked on a tight rope, and tried to touch my nose with my tongue, all while simultaneously trying to put my elbow in my ear.




"Sorry, Punpoie, I'm still getting static and vertical lines..."




"Hmmm..." he said sagely. "Let's try doing a system recovery."




"Okay..."




So, system recovery began.




Punpoie asked, after it had started,




"How much time does it say?"




All the screen said was, "Stop hurting me...let me die in peace..."




I didn't think Punpoie would go for that, so I said,

"It just says, 'Please wait...'"




"Okay, this could take up to an hour...let me go talk to my supervisor..."




I waited, and watched my screen. All of the sudden the estimated time popped up.




"PUNPOIE!" I yelled.




I could hear him scrambling to pick up the phone, and he yelled back,




"WHAT WHAT!!?!?!?!?"




"IT SAYS 23 minutes, and 3% is done!"




"...is that all?"




I felt sheepish.




"Well, yeah..."




"I'm going to talk to my supervisor...I'll be back."




I sat watching the time and percentage move.




Punpoie came back a few minutes later.




"Dara (yes, he did pronounce it correctly, and it was made clear to me I was born in the wrong continent), what is the time?"




I looked at the screen.




"It says 11 minutes.."




"No, I mean..."




"Oh, it says, 55%..."




"No, I mean what is the time?"




"Well, NOW it says 10 minutes..."




"*SIGH* NO, I mean what is..."




"NOW it says 58%..."




I was wondering why he wasn't getting it. I mean, I was pretty clear. But it was also obvious that he was about to start banging the phone on his desk if I didn't stop whatever wrong thing it was I was doing.




Then it suddenly dawned on me.




"Oh...you mean, what time is it?"




He breathed a huge sigh of relief.




"YES."




"Oh, it's seven."




He waited.




"...In the evening?" Came his tentative reply.




"Oh, yeah." I left out the "doy" that almost sprang to my lips.




"What time zone?"




He then started saying this:




"GARBLE GARBLE GARBLE garble GaRbLe garble MONEY garBlE garble COST."




"Whoa... could you say that again, I am very confused..." Truth was, I was about to cry.




"Okay, I will say it very slowly... G A R B L E G A R B LE G A R B L E g a r b l e G..."




I closed my eyes, to concentrate better, and Lily started screaming at that moment, and Punpoie said,




"Would you like to call back at a later time? It sounds like you are busy."

"NO! er..I mean, no, that's okay ha ha ha!" I couldn't bear the thought of doing this all over again, and being transfer ed to somebody else, who, in all likelihood, lived in the Congo, or worse, New York.




Our conversation went up from there, I think mostly because he was about to hand me of to some other poor sucker.




"Dara, I am going to transfer you to my supervisor, Krishna. Have a nice day."




Krishna then answered the phone, and set me up with recovery disks since nothing else was working, but not before we had to verbally re-live the last four hours, just to make sure.




Personally, by the end of this whole thing, I wanted to throw my computer in the trash and just start all over.




But, I will say, kudos to me and to Payenka and Punpoie and Krishna for not losing our tempers with each other.




And good for them for learning another language.




From now on, I'm going to be better, and I'm going to learn a language.




The language of "Listen to Chris from now on and NEVER EVER EVER buy an HP."

4 comments:

Zaphod said...

Did I not say something at some point about recovery disks? Can I help it if I live in exactly the same time zone as you do? Is not Christopher my son? Does not HP stand for "Huge Pile"? And what about Naomi...?

ceej said...

HAHA! I totally hate having to do anything with customer service! I had to do the same kind of rain dance with my internet last year "and turn the power off. now switch it on. now what color is the light on the front?" Orange "you mean amber?" ummm..yeah looks orange to me "so is it amber?" !@$%*...yessss "ok now hold the power button for 30 seconds......."

Tina said...

oh that sounds awful!!!! I hope you can get everything worked out and recovered. I hate dealing with customer service, especially if they have a strong accent. yeesh!!!

Trillium said...

I've got news for you (or maybe not): the folks here in Utah talk like that when they leave messages on our phone: uh, this is garble garble, I'm calling about garble garble, give me a call back at garble garble garble garble garble garble garble, thanks.

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