Tech Wreck

I'm one of those people who know just enough about computers, MP3 players, and cellphones to survive in this technology laden world. I can turn them all on and off, I can download information and I can even navigate through an occasional glitch in their daily operation. What I can't do is tolerate any of them not working when I need them to. Because when that happens, I'm forced to call tech support. And that is never, ever a good thing.

If you're not doomed to spend a half hour on hold, you're shipped off to India to talk to well-meaning but impossible to understand technicians who hold you hostage while they try to diagnose what is ailing your machine. Since I am unable to adequately explain most of my technological maladies, I'm at their mercy. Take my computer. For the last few days I've been struggling to download the expensive tax preparation software I've used for years. For some reason known only to the glitch gods, the CD refused to be read by my trusty computer drive. I tried my best to follow the directions on both the back of the box and the website but after one hour I was still listening to a spinning CD and no closer to actually completing my taxes.

I was forced to pick up the phone.

The first contact tried to give me a patch to make up for the fact that my computer was lacking Service Pack 3 (whatever the hell that is). Nothing. Then he directed me to the website where he threw a couple of darts at the installation troubleshooting board. Still nothing. He eventually ended up suggesting I get in my car, return the software and come back to the website to purchase another (more expensive) download of the same exact information that I now held in my hand. I tersely thanked my less-than-helpful friend across the pond and vowed to ask me husband for help.

After a tense encounter with my husband (who is only slightly higher on my help list than tech support personnel), I ended up giving another call to my friends in India. Only this time I didn't speak with with anyone in the land of the Taj Mahal. I was connected to a girl with a terrible head cold named Kelly who was based in New York. Within minutes she had provided me with a download of the product that miraculously appeared on my computer screen. She didn't charge me a thing and stayed on the line until she was sure that my problem was solved.

She almost made the whole time-sucking, hair-pulling software-loading hassle bearable. Almost.