The Freedom to Take Charge
That night, while I faced the prospect of losing my computer to something as asinine as my fear to buy things online…I obsessed over that for two whole hours before I just got tired of obsessing.
At 3:00 a.m. I finally pulled myself out of frantic-fear-mode and asked myself what the hell I planned to do about this situation that I had no one to blame on but me.
Regardless of whether my friend returned my computer or not, either way I would be left on my own to face my good old “technology” fear. At 3:06 a.m., fed up with my own stupidity, I surfed the internet for possible computer teachers.
When had I ever let fear stop me from acting? Why was I so afraid of something that every moron out there was doing? Not even sure of what I was meandering through, I bumbled my way past two possible signups.
At 7:00 a.m. I called my partner’s sister, a retired high-tech saleswomen, explaining my predicament. In her calm, no nonsense way, she said, “Don’t give your friend time to think. Simply text her that you’re coming by to pick up the computer.”
At 8:00 a.m. I texted my friend exactly what my partner’s sister had said. I received an urgent text back: “Can we talk? I can call you right now!”
I replied, “I’m already on my way.”
En route, I received a call from one of the two teaching places where I had left my phone number. A bright young lady assured me that for my money their online platform could teach me star-gazing, if I so pleased. Livid as I was with my friend, I signed up without a second’s hesitation.
At my friend’s house I rang the bell, but no one came to the door for around five minutes. Then my friend emerged with a fake smile, saying, “Hi.” She handed me the computer in its box, and said, “Bye,” in the same breath as the, “Hi,” and shut the door in my face.
I really didn’t care, too grateful to receive my computer back without any advanced theatrics. But on the way home, I panicked—what if she had sabotaged the computer or wrecked it? She certainly hadn’t offered me her password, so I wouldn’t even be able to switch the bloody computer on, not to forget that I didn’t know which button to press to switch it on in the first place.
At home I saw my friend had stripped off the protector and kept the mouse. That was her way to thank me for five months of practically exclusive use. But as she had told me once—she hadn’t asked to be my partner, more like she had done me a favor by consenting to be my partner. I saw it a little differently, but that was my hubris, not hers.
And hey, it was only eight-thirty still…the local Apple Store didn’t open until 11:00 a.m. Dead as I was from a night of no sleep, I could now worry for 2.5 hours more about the fate of my not so brand new MacBook Pro. But wait—these were the Covid times. Was the Apple Store even receiving customers? An anxious phone call to China told me they were receiving customers by appointment.
At the Apple Store, two helpful reps shrugged their shoulders. They couldn’t assist me without a password. Near to tears I said I also didn’t have a receipt for the purchase of the computer. But I could call my bank to prove that it was indeed I who had paid for the computer. The reps said that didn’t “mean” anything.
Finally, a third rep took pity on me and traveled the extra mile to trace the computer back to me. However, without the password, not much could be done to help me. But my friend had known better than me that I’d go nowhere without a password…and she had neither given it to me, nor called me with it afterwards, so I didn’t plan to beg her for it.
And still, sentimental fool that I was, I had brought along a memory stick to “save” her information if possible.
A fourth rep reluctantly conceded that yes, now that it had been adequately proven that the computer was indeed mine, they could erase all the memory and start-over with me as the new user. Again I asked if we could save my friend’s information. No, sorry, they said. For that they needed a password. The start-over would take four hours. Could I come back?
I said, other than the start-over, I also wanted a full check as to the computer’s health while it was still under warranty. That, they said would take more like eight hours. Was I willing to leave the computer overnight?
I left the store 1.5 hours later, my integral question of whether the computer was figuratively even alive or dead, still unanswered. Now I had another twenty-four hours to ponder over my stupidity of asking someone to be my “partner,” when she had done nothing to show she deserved this partnership to begin with.
Have you ever done anything this stupid in your life?
