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.

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VI. Louder Than A Bomb
“Bass!” I yelled loudly, scaring the holy hell out of my dog Billy. “How low can you go? Death Row, what a brother knows…” Poor Bill-the-Cat-the-Dog tucked her tail between her legs and exited the room as I bobbed my head and continued on. “Back once again is the in-credible, the Rhyme Animal – JOE!” A hop was in my step and dusting my office was a joy, thanks to the booming audio pouring forth from my shiny new laptop. For a portable computer, it had remarkably good sound quality – solid lows, tweaked highs, and a middle that filled the room.

“Public Enemy number one,” I shouted loud, extending my index finger to no one in particular, “Five-o said ‘FREEZE!’ –“

“Joe.”

“And I got numb! Can't I tell 'em that I really never had a –“

“JOE!”

I spun quickly to face the barely opened door of my office, my pretty wife’s head poking in and requesting a moment of my time. “Yes dear?”

“We need to go,” She replied plainly. “It’s already three. We’re going to be late.”

“Three?” I asked rhetorically. “Already?”

“Yes, already,” she huffed. “I just told you that.”

“It was rhetorical, Andrea," I snipped. "I don't disbelieve you.”

“Well, regardless, you need to quit preparing for your career as a break-out white rap star and get your ass in the shower. You know how your mother gets when we’re late.” She removed her head from the crevice and sealed it shut, reopening it quickly and poking her head back through. “Oh, and don’t leave that crap playing while you’re in there, either. We need to conserve energy.”

“CRAP?!?” I shouted. “This isn’t crap – this is CLASSIC!”

She closed her eyes and shook her head, then removed it from the room and shut the door once again. I couldn’t understand her frustration. Today was “Clean the House Day,” and while she cleaned the living room, dining room and kitchen, I made it my sworn duty to dust my bookshelves, making sure each and every dust jacket had no need to do it’s job.

What? That’s cleaning, isn’t it? Well, isn't it???

Oh, hush. You guys always take her side.

Anyway, I bounded over to my laptop and shut it down. I smiled a tiny smile as I thought back to more turbulent days nearly six months previous, when just looking at my Inspiron 8500 caused me to break out into hives. These days, things were grand – and very, very fast, thanks to the upgrades Dags – er, Dagney, gave me, turning me into a happy Dell customer.

I showered and headed out with my wife to visit my parents for no other reason than the fact that they hadn’t seen us in over a week. The entire ride over, Andrea and I bickered, discussing the improvements to the rest of the house that dusting my book collection made. This, of course, led to a bitter overtone in our voice as we dealt with my very hypersensitive parents. Every single word I spoke to my mother came off sounding (to her, anyway) like an insult or snappy answer. This angered my father, which led to our mandatory weekly fight about politics or what a rotten kid I was or something nonsensical.

By the time we arrived home at nine, my attitude was absolutely wretched. All I wanted to do was play some Rollins Band extremely loudly as I finished the dusting endeavor that had been derailed earlier. I booted up the Inspiron – my friend, my only real friend in this world. Over the past six months we had formed a union. It understood me. It held all my MP3’s, it connected me to the world via the Internet, and it held every single story I had written. I just knew that once it had awoken from its forced slumber, it would provide me with comfort and love and some kickass tunes.

Yeah, right.

Apparently, it didn’t really like the fact that I had dismissed it for so long and decided to voice its displeasure very, VERY loudly. The second the machine booted, an intensely shrill and EXTREMELY loud hum began emanating from the speakers. I hit the ‘volume down’ button, realizing immediately that it was having no effect whatsoever since it hadn’t even gone into Windows. Thinking quickly, I grabbed my headphones and plugged them into the port, hoping to shut those squealing speakers up long enough to figure out what was wrong. The room grew quieter but the loud humming continued through the headphones. I logged in very quickly and as soon as Windows finished doing whatever the hell it does at startup that takes so long, I immediately muted the speakers in the volume control.

“What the hell was that?” Andrea said as she entered the room. “Did your television explode or something?”

“No…” I said slowly as I went into the device manager. I sat silent as I dug through menu after menu on the audio device in an attempt to discover what may be wrong.

Andrea stood tapping her foot beside me. “Hello?” She said, waving her hand in front of my gasping face. “What was it?”

“OH… Um, I don’t know. I just booted up the machine and that hum started.”

“Oh. Well, at least it sounds better than that Pubic Enemy –“

“PUBLIC Enemy,” I said, setting her straight.

“Pubic, Public, whatever. It’s horrible.”

“You have no sense of taste in music,” I said as I asked Windows to reinstall the drivers for my audio card.

“Whatever, Eminain’t. At least I don’t listen to that rap garbage.”

“Oh,” I said with a scoff, “And Faith Hill doesn’t suck?”

“Come on,” she pleaded, “You know very well that I don’t listen to Faith Hill!”

“Whatever!” I exclaimed as I clicked through the dialogue boxes. “I went to drive your car the other day and BOOM – ‘The Way You Love Me’ popped on the radio!”

“Like I have any control over what Star 94 plays?” She said with a scowl.

“Well, you listen to that station, and you know the risks. Still, you accept them. Therefore –“ I saw that Windows had completed the task of reinstalling the drivers, so I went ahead and opened the Volume Control window and began to adjust the levels – “You must like Faith Hill, since you know there’s a very high likelihood of her –“

The loud humming once again poured out of the headphones still attached to the machine.

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” She said. “You listen to Star 94 sometimes, too, so you must like her as well.”

“The only time I listen to that… that GARBAGE is when I’m in your car.”

“Still, you choose to drive my car,” She smirked. “You know the risks.”

I stammered for a moment, searching for some sort of comeback. I wasn’t about to let that be the last word, so I did what any self respecting man did. I resorted to acting like an infant. “Oh yeah? Well –“ I said, unplugging the headphones. A bloodcurdling sound screamed from the laptop and we both covered our ears in response to the pain. She immediately ran out of the room. I laughed mockingly at my victory, then reached for the phone.

It had been so long since I’d called Dell, I actually had to look up the number. I dialed it and listened carefully, for their menu had changed. I punched through the proper sequence of numbers and in no time was listening to incredibly awful elevator music on hold. Wow, that’s different… usually they have something I at least know, I thought. The music was soon brought to an abrupt stop as some chittering young man began making odd noises into the phone. It took a moment, but I began to recognize those noises as words.

“[various unintelligible sounds] this is [name unintelligible]. How am I helping you today?”

“Uh, hi,” I said, trying to find a way to say the name that he had given to me. I couldn’t. “Um… I have a problem with my laptop.”

“Yes sir, if you are to give your Dell Express Service numbers I can help you with this.”

“Uh… alright, it’s [Service Tag number].”

More than two minutes went by before I got any sort of reply. “Yes sir, It would seem [unintelligible] this laptop [unintelligible] system.”

“Umm… Huh?”

“This laptop, the one you [unintelligible] about? This is not a Express Service number for a laptop in the system.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

Whatever was said next, I couldn’t possibly tell you what it was. It was impossible to decipher the words that came across the telephone.

“Sir, I don’t understand you. I’m sorry… Is there someone else you could transfer me to?”

“I am sorry I am unable [unintelligible].”

“What?”

“I am unable [unintelligible].”

“You aren’t able to… what?”

“I am unable [unintelligible].”

I hung up. Figuring I could simply try again and get someone I could understand, I redialed Dell. Going through the motions, I was connected with another representative who spoke with a heavy foreign accent. It was MUCH easier to understand the new person, however, so I gave him the Express Service number he requested.

“This Express Service number is invalid,” he replied.

”What do you mean it is invalid?” I asked in shock.

”It’s invalid,” he replied plainly.

“But… that doesn’t make sense. Can I read it to you once more?”

He agreed, so I did. Once again, I was informed that the number was not in the system.

“Wait a moment… Could that be because they shipped this laptop out to replace another one?”

“I do not know,” He replied. “Do you know the Express Service Code from your older laptop maybe?”

I searched vigorously in my file cabinet for my documentation. After a few minutes I hit paydirt. “Yep! I have it right here. It’s [the old Express Service Code].”

A few seconds pass by. “The number you have given me corresponds to a system that has been decommissioned.”

“Well, yeah, that was my old laptop. It was busted, so they sent this new one out to replace it.”

“I am sorry, your number is not on the file. I am going to have to ask you to call the Dell Customer Support.”

Reaching my wit’s end, I simply hung up and looked up the number for Customer Support. A few seconds and a few curses later, I was connected – toll free, mind you – to customer support.

“Hi, welcome to Dell Customer Support,” She said happily. “This is Amber, how may I help you today?”

“Oh…” I said in shock. “You’re American. Oh, okay, good!” I explained in great detail my situation and informed her of the switcheroo that took place half a year earlier.

“Oh, okay, I see. No problem, let me get that taken care of for you!” I heard a few minutes worth of clicking on a keyboard and a little bit of mouth breathing. Shortly, she spoke once again. “Okay, I got you registered with your new Service Tag and Express Service Code. Your warranty expires on April 30, 2004.”

”Woah!” I exclaimed. “2004? I paid for a three year warranty!”

”Hmm… Well, I have no record of that on this system.”

”Well, can you check under the old system? I’m sure you will see it there.”

“Sure, just give me onnnne - Oh, I see. Well, that was for the old system which has been decommissioned. This one is new and it comes with a one year warranty.”

I sighed. “Amber, that makes no sense. Even if it did, I got this new one like six months ago – it wouldn’t expire in April, it’d expire in the summer! But that’s not the point. I paid 350 bucks for that warranty, and I believe it should transfer right over.”

“One second, sir,” She said. Wouldn’t you know it? Once again, I am escalated to a manager.

“Hello, This is Jennifer, the manager of this floor. How may I help you, sir?”

I won’t even bother describing that conversation as it really didn’t take that long to convince her that I should get to keep a warranty I paid for. Finally, warranty gets transferred.

“Alright, Mr. Peacock, is there anything else I can do for you today?”

“Well, yes, actually. This whole thing started with an issue about the audio on my laptop. Could you put me through to technical support?”

“Oh certainly, I can transfer you there now-“

”Well,” I said, interrupting her. “If it’s not too much trouble, could you please transfer me to a high-level, English-speaking tech support representative?”

She paused a moment. ”What do you mean, sir?”

”Well,” I said, “Every time I call tech support, I get someone with a very thick accent and they-“

“Sir, even though our technical support group is located in India, each member of the staff is a highly trained professional capable of handling any situation.”

“Oh, I certainly don’t doubt that, Amber –“

“Jennifer,” she corrected me.

“Er, Jennifer,” I continued, embarrassed. “I don’t doubt that they are. It’s just that, it seems, there is a language barrier that is interfering with my ability to – “

”Sir, there is no need to get ugly.”

I don’t quite know how to describe it, but just at that moment, my entire field of vision was covered in a sea of purple and orange question marks. “Wait - ugly?”

“Yes sir.”

“What do you mean? How am I being ugly, ma’am?”

“Well, I understand that you may be used to listening and working with Americans,” she explained, “But there is no need to insult our staff simply because they are located in another part of the world.”

“Wha? I didn’t… When did I insult anyone?”

”Sir, I need you to calm down.”

“HUH? What the… CALM DOWN?!? But I’m not…”

“Okay sir, it is obvious that we are unable to work together to solve this problem. I am terribly sorry that this is the case. Thank you for calling Dell, and have a -”

“But wait!” I yelled. “I’m not being rude, or mean, or anything like that! I’m not like that, Jennifer. I just… There’s this language barrier, and if I cannot communicate with someone clearly and effectively, it’s impossible to get a situation resolved.“

“Well, I understand that. But there is no excuse for bringing race into the issue.”

“Woah, hold on… when did I EVER bring race into the issue?”

“Sir, you complained about the accent and insulted our staff,” she said, matter-of-factly.

”NO! I never did! I simply stated that there was a language barrier. You have to understand, Jennifer, being that I am from Atlanta – the birthplace of the Civil Rights Movement - being called a racist is quite the insult!”

“I understand that sir. It might behoove you not to be one.”

“WAIT!” I screamed. “I wasn’t-“

“Thank you for calling Dell and have a good day.” And with that, a click echoed through the receiver. I couldn’t possibly have felt like more of an ass than I did at that moment. Mustering up my inability to accept any form of inherent racism, I dialed the Dell Tech Support number once more. I was greeted once again by an East Indian accent which asked for my Express Service Code. I gave it to him and and continued on to explain that there was a loud humming coming from my speakers.

“I am sorry, that is something we are not covering because they are of a third party. Speakers are not a matter of Dell and I cannot help you.”

“Wait, it’s.. huh?”

”If you are calling about external speakers and this I cannot help.”

“No, it’s not external speakers. It’s the speakers on my laptop itself. But I don’t think that it’s the speakers… it’s something with the audio itself. There’s a loud buzzing and humming, like a wire’s been grounded or shorted. It happens even if I plug headphones in.”

“Headphones?” He asked. “Are you saying headphones?”

“Yes.”

“Im sorry, headphones are of a third party and this I cannot help.”

“Dude, I don’t think you are understanding what I am trying to tell you. It’s NOT the speakers, it’s NOT the headphones. It’s the audio on the laptop, and it’s broken. I need help fixing it.”

“You are saying that this noises are coming from a speakers and a headphones. These devices are of a third party, and this Dell cannot help. You are needing to call the device manufacturer and get support from them directly because this I cannot help.”

“Alright, fine. Escalate me to your manager please.” It took a little arguing, but I got it done.

“This is [name withheld],” she said nicely. “I am the manager on this floor. Can I help you?”

“I just need to get this problem solved.”

“And with whom am I speaking?”

“Joe Peacock.”

“Yes Mister Peacock, how can I help you?”

“Alright, My speakers are… Wait. No. My audio chipset has gone bad. It’s causing a loud howl to come from the speakers. I need this repaired. I have already verified that the drivers for the device are fine, My volume control is fine, everything seems hunky dory. It has to be the hardware.”

“Okay sir," she said, "If you will guide your mouse to the lower right corner of your screen, you will see a small icon that looks like a speaker. Can you please open this for me?”

“Look, I just TOLD you, I already checked it. My volume controls are perfectly fine.”

”Ok, can you please do this for me. Can you please go to your start button…”

“Ok, yeah, start?”

“Yes sir. Ok, can you please move your mouse to the control panel option in your start menu?”

“Sure. Control panel. What next?”

“Yes sir. Okay, can you please open your “System” window…”

“I’ve already done this," I explained. "Everything was fine. No yellow exclamation points, no red ‘x’s’, everything’s good.”

“Okay sir," she continued, "Can you please move your mouse to the My Computer icon on your desktop?”

“Sure.”

“Okay sir, can you please right-click on this icon?”

I complied. “Done.”

“Okay sir, can you please select “Properties?”

“Yah. Fine.”

“Okay sir, from here, can you please select 'hardware'?” she asked.

“Aw, come on! This is just another way to get to the Device Manager.”

“Yes sir. Now if you can please select “system devices” , I need you to verify that your –“

I huffed loudly. “I have already TOLD you. I’ve already DONE this. NOTHING is wrong. Everything is fine. The hardware is bad. I need it to be fixed. Can you just send me a new audio controller, please?”

There were a few moments of silence, and then “Okay sir, allow me to place you on hold for a few moments.” She did. A few moments later, she returned. “Sir?”

“Yes?” I said with a sigh, preparing for the worst.

“Okay sir,” she said as she returned, “It would seem that we cannot replace just your audio controller as it is part of the hardware. We will need to –“ Let’s all say it together – “REPLACE YOUR MOTHERBOARD.”

The resulting scream was picked up on a satellite orbiting high above the Earth and, for a moment, caused much excitement with the guys at the SETI labs. After a moments’ analysis, they instantly recognized the wave pattern as one of a frustrated caller to a tech support department which had been outsourced to another country, shrugged, deleted the file, and went back to racing each other in their roller-chairs up and down the hallway.