This story is in the first book created from this website, Mentally Incontinent. I hope you enjoy it, and if you do, please consider picking up the book. It's chock full of stuff just like this.

The Motherboard Chronicles 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6| 7

III. See No Evil
For almost exactly three days (71 hours and 34 minutes, to be exact), my laptop user experience was one of pure, unadulterated bliss. It is one thing to program, write, surf the web and play games on a brand new laptop with the latest in technical advancements. It’s an altogether greater thing to do them when you have been completely deprived of the ability to for so long. I can’t explain it, but when you have opened Internet Explorer with the mindset that finally – FINALLY – your machine will be able to do it without turning into an electric picture frame, it’s a high that is rivaled only a near-death experience – and even that is a stretch, because being high on life is boring without an internet connection.

But on the third day, everything went black. Literally.

I was taking a break from working on a Saturday, playing a rousing round of Diablo II with a buddy of mine, when we reached the end of Act I. I initiated a conversation with Warriv and told him I wanted to go east. The screen flickered in response, indicating the introduction of a new cut scene which explains how Diablo had crossed the desert and all kinds of rigmarole. The audio started and the sullen timbre of the narrator’s voice began to advance the tale, but nary a visual was seen. The entire clip played through and I was expecting to see my character standing in the middle of a desert town, but only saw the pale black that reflected my descending mood.

I pushed and held the power button and the machine shut down just as it should have. I then pushed the power button again to start it up. The exhaust fan started up, the power and hard drive lights were illuminated. The machine beeped. Nothing appeared on screen. I rebooted again, with exactly the same result.

“Well, isn’t this wonderful?” I asked no one.

Despair swept over me at the thought of having to call Dell once again, so I thought I’d exercise each and every logical option at my disposal. To determine if the system was even working, I thought I would control-alt-delete into the manual login for Windows XP and see if I could get anywhere at all. I did it and heard the tell-tale welcome music that indicates a successful login – meaning that this was definitely a video-only problem. I plugged in an external monitor and received nothing at all in the way of video – telling me that it wasn’t the LCD monitor on the laptop that was at fault. I had isolated the video chip as the culprit. This meant a new motherboard. And that meant calling Dell again.

With a heaving sigh and more determination than I thought myself capable of, I managed to dial Dell’s number without poking Joe’s-index-finger-sized holes into the handset of the phone. I waited through the introduction and dialed all the right numbers to get me to technical support. I was told that I would hear a silence and was instructed to wait through it as my call was connected. So I waited.

And I waited.

And I waited.

Finally, I looked at my cell phone. It indicated to me that I was no longer connected with Dell. I grit my teeth and summoned my strength – the only thing worse than having to call Dell was having to call them once again. I heard the introduction, I pushed the numbers in the proper sequence, I was instructed to wait through some silence. And wait I did – but for only half the amount of time as the previous adventure before I thought to look at the display of my phone and determine the state of connectivity. Which was “not at all.”

For a brief moment, I blamed Sprint. I said loudly to the wall across from my desk, “Damn Sprint! Damn them straight to hell! Their connectivity is lousy and that spokesperson is creepy! I hate them with all of the disdain I can possibly muster without diverting resources from hating Dell!” I tossed my celly behind me and grabbed the land line, dialed the support number, listened where I was supposed to listen and pushed numbers where I was supposed to push them. I was told to wait through yet another silence, which was quite a pleasant silence until it was so rudely interrupted by the sound of a dial tone. I removed the handset from my ear and stared at it in disbelief. It immediately dawned on me that the silence I was instructed to wait through was nothing more than a cruel practical joke designed by those three smirking interns on the commercials to see just how long they could get furious people to listen to nothing on the other end of the phone before they gave up and committed either suicide or mass murder at their local Wal-mart, either event making the user no longer their problem.

So, I did the only thing that I knew would get me connected to someone. I called their sales line.

“Hello, welcome to Dell. My name is [omitted because I actually liked her]. how may I help you today?” Chimed the lovely young lady on the other end of the phone.

“Hello, [omitted], I’m having trouble with my Insprion,” I replied.

“Oh, okay sir, you will need to dial our technical support number. It’s 1-800-“

“No, ma’am,” I interrupted. “I tried that already. It keeps asking me to wait through a silence, then hangs up on me.”

“Oh. Okay, I see. Well, I can connect you directly if you’d like.”

“That’d be wonderful! Thanks!”

“Okay, hold one moment,” she said, and then disappeared and was immediately replaced by the refrain to “American Pie”. A few moments later, she returned. “Wow, that’s interesting,” she said with a note of dismay. “It did the same thing to me as well.”

“Yah, it did it to me several times before I just gave up and called you,” I replied. “Is there another way to connect me to them?”

“Well, unfortunately sir, the only way I know how to connect to them is the same way you do. However, if you can hold on for just a moment, I’ll see if anyone here knows another way.” And once again, she placed me on hold where Don McLean began killing me softly with his song. It took a little while, but she finally came back and let me know that there was no other way to get me over to the tech support line that hated talking to me so much, they had completely shut down all circuits to their department.

“Well, what the heck am I supposed to do now?” I asked.

“You can try our online support at www.Dell.com, they are usually pretty good about response times.”

“But my computer doesn’t work, ma’am. I can’t get online.”

“Oh. Yeah,” She replied sheepishly. “I guess you have a point there! I guess the only other recourse is to wait and try in the morning.”

So I did. And it drove me absolutely nuts.

Sunday morning rolled around, and for the first time in at least three months, I arose from bed around 8:00 AM and hopped immediately on the phone. I dialed Dell timidly, knowing that the unrelenting fist of disconnection was poised and ready to hammer upon me. Remarkably, the span of silence actually ended in something other than a dial tone. I heard connection tones which gently led me to the end of the muted tunnel of hold and they filled me with vigor and energy. I was extremely excited about the prospect of finally getting my issue solved when I was connected to a person whom I would consider to be, without question, the absolute dumbest fucking tech support person I have ever – EVER – had the severe displeasure of being involved with in my entire life. I’ll call him David, because that was his name.

“Welcome to Dell. My name is David.”

That's it. He just introduced himself, nothing further. I was a little taken back by that, but found it within myself to push forward. “Um… Hi David. I have-“

“Hi.”

“Uh… Yeah, hi. I have a problem here with my laptop.”

“I see. Can I have your service tag number please?”

(I gave it to him.)

“It doesn’t seem to be the right one. Can I have it again please?”

(I gave it to him again.) “Nope. Nothing’s coming up.”

Several seconds pass. He says nothing at all. I expect him to carry forward from that statement, but he never does, so I decide to do it for him. “Okay, well then, can you look me up some other way?”

“Hold on just a second, let me see about that.” He placed me on hold for about a minute and 25 seconds. I may be mistaken, but I believe “American Pie” was STILL playing. “Okay, sir?” He said, a bit winded.

“Yes?”

”Okay, I was asking for your service tag earlier.”

Again, several seconds pass without any prompting or continuance from Mr. Helpful, so it is left to me to keep things rolling. “Umm… Yes, indeed you were. And?”

“Oh, well what I actually need is your express service code.”

“Oh, well, okay. It’s-“

“It’s the longer number on the back of your computer. You will find it next to the service tag number.”

“Yes, I am aware of its location. It’s-“

“It should be the one with all numbers, no letters.”

“David, I am staring at it right now. Would you like me to read it to you?”

“Oh, yes. That would be good.”

I read it to him. He seemed marginally pleased that he managed to proceed with it. “Okay, how may I help you with your Inspiron computer today?”

“Well, it seems that my video chip has gone bad. I’m going to need to get it replaced.”

“Okay sir, is your computer on right now?”

“No, it’s not. Let me turn it on real fast –“

“Okay, I am going to need you to power on your computer.”

My grip on the telephone tightened. “Okay, it’s on.”

“Okay, I need you to hit delete when you see the Dell screen.”

“But I can’t see the Dell screen, David. My video chip is bad.”

“Oh. Okay, can you hold on for just a moment?”

He places me on hold for – and I’m not kidding here – twenty two minutes. The only reason I didn’t hang up is because I held firmly in my mind the conviction that if I let him go now, I’d never ever get through to Dell tech support again. Finally, he popped back on the phone. “Okay, sir?”

“Yes,” I grumbled.

“Okay, I think I know what is going on. I believe it may have something to do with your drivers. Can I get you to go to Start, Control Panel, Display?”

“David.”

“Yes sir?”

“I cannot do as you ask, David.”

“Oh. Why not?”

“Because my display does not work, David. I can’t see a goddamn thing.”

“Oh. Okay, so it’s your monitor that needs service then?”

“No, David. I’m fairly certain it’s the video chip. I plugged an external monitor in and it didn’t work at all.”

“So, um… Ok, so you have a monitor plugged in and it doesn’t work?”

“Exactly.”

“Umm… Is it a Dell monitor? Because I don't think I can help you if it's not a -”

“David.”

“Yes?”

“Transfer me to your superior, please.”

“Umm… okay, no problem, one second sir.”

Nineteen minutes, several doodles of David in a guillotine, and three broken pencils later:

“Sir?”

“Yes, David?”

“My supervisor is tied up on another call right now.”

I sighed heavily. “Why does that not surprise me?”

“But sir?”

“Yes David?”

“I asked another tech here about your problem, and they said that it’s most likely your motherboard.”

“Yep, that’s pretty much what I figured.”

“Okay, so will you be repairing this yourself, or will we be sending a tech out?”

“Oh, dear God, I hope you are sending a tech out.”

“Oh, okay, because to send a tech out would be $520.00.”

A VERY stunned silence ensued. He decided to break it with the “good” news.

“But if you do it yourself, that price drops to $380.00”.

“David.”

“Yes sir?”

“David, this laptop is still under warranty.”

He took a few seconds to study this. “Oh. I guess it is. In that case, I guess it would be free.”

I swear to God the Almighty that if David had been present in the room with me, I would have hoisted him high into the air and dropped him across my knee, breaking his back and paralyzing him for eternity. I would then spend every waking moment for the rest of our lives together reciting poetry about football into his ear and forcing him to eat nothing but Atkins-friendly candy.

“Transfer me to the fulfillment department please, David.”

“Oh, um… yes sir, just one moment.”

It took only ten seconds for the order fulfillment person to come on the line and fulfill my order. The same tech from the same contracting firm came to my office at 11:00 AM to once again replace my motherboard.

“Jeez, another one?” He asked.

“Yep, another one,” I replied.

“Hmm… remind me not to buy a Dell,” he said.

I wouldn’t need to remind him. He’d have several more reminders in the coming days.



This is part 3 of a 7-part bundle of words which form sentences and all together combine to form Devestator. If you haven't read the other parts, head on up the page and click one of those numbers up there.