Fatal exceptions

My office, like every other miserable office, has a lot of Windows PCs. And as we have grown up to expect, they keep conking off with a warmly reassuring regularity.

What drives me crazy is how people react to this. Every other week, I see someone making a big fuss about it, going around with their tales of suffering, blaming everyone from the IT guy to Bill Gates. Or, I see them sitting quietly on their desks, fiddling with their phones, looking bored in an accusatory way, as if the world owes them a constant stream of holiday pictures and gagworthy memes.

Last week, a vile strain of trojans went full-scale thermonuclear on my ugly, old laptop, and it surrendered. It took a bit of Googling and some help from a friend, but I managed to get it from bright-blue dead to perfect working condition within an hour. I didn’t complain about the IT guys, I didn’t sit around waiting for someone to come and fix it, and I didn’t play angry birds and wait for the sun to go down. Nobody in my office even knew about it, although the computer belongs to the company. But then, so does my time.

This morning, I saw an esteemed colleague drumming his fingers on the armrests of his chair. He said he can’t do anything – anything – because his PC has gone out. Ignoring the voice in my head (Can you see? Can you think? Can you imagine a cat behaving with comically appalling impropriety?), I tried to help.

Me: Did you try Safe Mode?

EC: Yup, didn’t start.

Me: How about System Restore?

EC: I don’t think I have than enabled. Waiting for the IT guy to come in.

Me: You can try repairing with a Windows CD. We have one in the cabinet.

EC: I don’t have a CD drive! Can you believe that?

Me: Yes. But ask X, he has the set-up on a bootable USB.

EC: You know, I don’t want to waste my time on this shit. Fixing computers is not my job.

I walked away with a smile, wishing I was the Creative Director so I could tell him what exactly his job was.

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