Part 1 – My PC Goes Tits Up After 6 Weeks
Paid for extra memory sticks, installed them. Got an external hard drive, paid for extra features, was emailed unlock code. Didn’t work.
Sent them an email. No response. Then another. Sent another in a week.
Two weeks later receive an email saying I can call them.
Okay will do so after I get my pc back which decided to cack after having it for 6 weeks.
Part 2 – My PC Is Held Hostage
Two weeks ago my PC – mine – was received at the repair facility. Another few days and it will be 3 weeks.
The first rep typed into online said, ‘a few days to get there, a few days there, a few days back.’
I get online on a different pc, and complain. They laugh silently and say ‘we let you know.’ I think, ‘but that’s why I’m online asking…’
Part 3 – Deep Thought Regarding My Dead PC
Not quite in mourning, yet, but recall fond episodes of having to replace my USB Bluetooth 4.0 key. Contemplating driving to Indiana to confront goobers holding my pc hostage to demand to know what possible parts a computer company could be waiting for.
Oops. Can’t do that. Need oil change and nitrogen refill on tires and guy who said he’d do so a week ago showed up two days late, saying he’d be back three days ago.
Wondering if I’ve been drugged, kidnapped and taken to another planet. If so, likely called Mynd Phuq. Sort of Korean, sort of Chinese, leaving you hungry for the real thing.
Think I’ll read a book.
Part 4 – Rare Books, or, Cook’m
Order a few books. Signed by authors – no time to go ask them to sign. First editions. Anyone knowing about book status is aware signed is good, first edition is good, and advertisements for first edition used to mean first printing, which is very good.
Receive one book: first edition. Fourth printing. Library stamps. Fucking cocks. Receive next. Better! Only second printing.
Order next, signed. Ooops. No signature. At least not signed by fucking bookseller.
Consider changing address to New York State, to be closer to booksellers in case I need to ‘visit.’
Part 5 – I, Haunted
My pc has not yet arrived. There are howlings in the night. I hear voices whispering, innuendoes unexplainable by reason.
My host is a strange personality, only appearing after the light has left the westering sky.
I am becoming somewhat fearful I shall never again see my beloved.
I am counting the days, entranced by odder fantasies.
I notice insect life has all but been banished within my environs. Even the lowly country folk remark to themselves upon my pale countenance, and trembling hands. However mistaken, I believe the bruises I was suffering from have now vanished, allowing me to keep this record in the hopes that someone else will not have to endure my wretched travail, and the temptation of false hopes.
The night is full of cries, the day arrives fled of once stolid optimism.
Part 6 – I Am Flypaper
I admire the wide-screen monitor, the gleam of the digital printer. Useless artefacts. The mouse crouched in frozen immobility, the keyboard an alphabet for the deaf. Click, click. Surrounded by the unrelenting coil of cables, plugged into what resembles a cartoon drawing of outlets.
Soon I will have to speak with another lying android. They have multiple pcs. They have the money. My money.
In a picnic around the board room, they are saying, ‘See, we make faulty pc, we have backlog of ordered parts it look like we got much much business waiting, stock shares rise, we cash in, government give us business aid for thriving inspiration, and customer go suck eggs. By the time they get pc back, they so happy, we so rich, everybody ok! God Bless America!’
Clap, clap, clap.
Oh the sybaritic syphiliticness of such solipsism.
I have been sitting here so long I must arise and shift by now useless nuts.
Part 7 – Get Thee To A Gunnery, or, The Motherfuckers
I have a case! No, I am a case that has been escalated (I feel the whisper of several ghosts, ‘See, we were right’). Unfortunately, I have not been updated (I can hear several who will be ghosts saying, ‘I knew the bastard was dating himself’).
Anus Avanti: graphics card, and processor. The parts. How amazing. Imagine Honda or Ford, requiring tires, the customer waiting. Should the customer object, they will offer good replacements. Another car left on blocks. And should those not be available, they would invigilate on the customer’s behalf, next month.
Should the customer further object, they would simply say, ‘What’s the rush? Going somewhere?!’ And drift off into maniacal laughter as they slip away.
Part 8 – Jackals
God Bless the Company! They cradled me from squalling impatience to fury, teaching the true method of independence. Wealth.
No reliance on false advertising, lies, glossy implications.
No money for a second product? Work harder. An entire catalogue to transcribe? Work harder, share the wealth: hire a transcriptionist. Ask not what your country can do for you….
Anus! Teaching independence, marriage counseling.
In the corporate world, free of the greed of utility, who needs customer service, faithful adverts, and integrity?
You have Anus, the Company – teaching the value of making do.
Part 9 – ……
Bullshit. I have my pc. Talk amongst yourselves.
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