Technology, you’re a rotten little devil. Not most of the time. Often, you’re good and helpful and make the world a better place. Like watching cat videos on Tik-Tok.
But when you go wrong – like the other day when my computer died at work – you go WAY wrong!
It makes me long for a simpler time. When technology was less-advanced, but a lot easier to fix.
Or, it makes me wish that with all of its vast power and ability, tech could at least solve some of its own problems. Instead of always asking me to do it. Computers can crunch numbers with incredible sophistication. Pull up information from any part of the world in seconds. Display in incredible detail the depths of the known universe.
But the minute it has an issue, it starts spitting out non-sensical jibber-jabber in the form of tech-jargon and codes that require ME to look them up. Never remembering that IT is the designated searcher of information in the family.
It’s absurd, isn’t it? Like going to the doctor and he takes his shirt off and asks, “Do you mind looking at this mole? It’s turning black. Does it look serious?”
How would I know!?! You’re the expert! I’m here for you to look at MY mole!
When my Windows-based computer crashes, it gets a blue screen with a sideways unhappy face – 🙁
Translation: It’s sad!
To me, it looks like a dead frog that’s been runover by a car. The whole scene is called “the blue screen of death.”
I don’t know why they picked that benign, almost-pleasant shade of blue. Or that sarcastic, phony frown. It’s pure evil. Better would have been a black screen with red flames and an animated devil laughing: “MUHAHAHAHA! Your sensitive, un-backed-up files are all mine! MUHAHAHAHA!”
That’s a sense of urgency and doom I can appreciate.
But the not blue screen of death.
If you ever get one, you’ll notice at the bottom there is a scannable QR code and a cryptic error message. It reads like some kind of riddle from “The Lord of the Rings”: Non-maskable Interrupt. Overflow Trap. Not Present Fault. Putrid Dragon Breath.
It ought to say, “Sorry … went poopie in my pants.” At least that would be more honest.
The blue screen is helpful in the same way a random stranger who randomly comments, “Looks like the weather is a’ turnin’, eh?”
No, it doesn’t look like that! What does that even mean?
The blue screen does mention that, “You can search for the error online.” Which you could do if: A) Your computer – the one advising you to search for its own error – wasn’t broken, and B) it hadn’t notified you it is about to reboot and offers up a counter of how long before it does.
Oh, the code wasn’t a riddle. It was a challenge! Can you find your phone to scan the code, or a pen to copy down the error message, before the computer reboots?
OMG … SCRAMBLE, SCRAMBLE, SCRAMBLE!!!
It’s like being Indiana Jones and poison darts are about to shoot out of the walls. You’re looking everywhere for your phone. You’re slashing at papers and mail on your desk in search of a pen. You’re seriously considering stabbing your finger so you can use blood to write on the wall.
Since it’s my work computer, I get the shame and embarrassment of having to share this with the tech folks. Because when I tell them I got a “blue screen of death,” they will inevitably ask: “Did you get the code?”
“No, I didn’t get the code! I forgot my phone was in my pocket. I haven’t had a working pen on my desk since Bill Clinton was in office. It rebooted too fast.”
“Oh man, that’s a shame,” they say. “Do you remember what it said? Otherwise there’s not much I can do.”
“Do I remember what it said?!? No, I don’t remember what it said! It was something about ‘dragon breath’ and ‘overflow faults.’ I wasn’t paying attention because the stupid dead frog was really making me mad.”
Good tech guys can spot the onset of Computer Derangement Syndrome – when the human body loses all control and begins tossing electronics out the window. This guy was just about to bail when the blue screen of death popped back up.
We looked at each other.
SCRAMBLE, SCRAMBLE, SCRAMBLE!!!
We fumbled for our phones. We tried to find a pen. I used a pair of scissors to carve the code into my desk. Anything to beat the timer.
“I’ve never been here when the screen actually pops up,” he said, excited. “Most of the time I just figure people are lying.”
“But what does it mean?” I asked.
“Oh that,” he replied. “Oh yeah, your computer’s toast. Gonna’ need a new one. But as long as you’ve been backing up all your files, you’ll be fine.”
In tears, weeping over the loss, feeling like a runover frog, I dropped my head into my hands.
“MUHAHAHAHA!” the digital devil laughed. “You’ll never watch cat videos again.”