In which Marie has a bit of a bad day and discovers the secret of life.

There was a ginormous earth-shattering fireball-spewing thunderstorm in Amherst last night. I know this not because I was there, no, we had a small sibling storm in Shelburne Falls. No, I know this from hearsay and because when I went into the bookshop at 7:30 this morning, not a single computer worked. Let me say that again. NOT A SINGLE COMPUTER WORKED.

After much fiddling with wires and unplugging and plugging of cables, I managed to get our main computer up and running. And then I fixed the computer at our primary register, halleluiah, we’re not completely crippled. But all of the other 5 are just blinking away.

I spent many many minutes on the phone with tech support — we’ve decided that the stargate (I just love that we have a piece of hardware with that appellation!) is fried, and they’re sending a new one with a chip that I have to install in the primary computer’s guts somewhere, and so my tomorrow morning is sure to be equally taxing.

But here is the point: the secret to life: Pay attention.

That’s the secret to writing, too, I think.

Because somehow I’ve become known as the computer tech person on staff here. I’m not especially handy. At all. But I read the manual for our particular inventory management program. And I’ve paid attention. And the first rule of thumb before you call tech support is fiddle with wires, unplug & replug all the cables, etc. Because if you don’t, they’re going to tell you to do it anyway, and if by some miracle it does fix your problem, you’re going to feel like a big schmuck.

I like to start every conversation with tech support with a laundry list of everything I’ve already done to try to amend the problem. It makes me feel really good, they’re so appreciative.

There are other problems, but never mind for now. I’m drinking a sweet frozen strawberry drink from a local coffeehouse, ahhh. I will return to the store, immerse myself in more returns, mindless manual labor, and try to devote some brain capacity to poem-thinking.

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2 thoughts on “In which Marie has a bit of a bad day and discovers the secret of life.

  1. “PAY ATTENTION!” Yes! Yes! It seems so simple, but, really, that’s such a huge thing. Because we don’t, most of the time, do we? And by “we,” of course, I mean “me,” who was so busily not paying attention today that I walked head-first into a door jamb. “Pay attention.” Yes, yes, yes.

  2. Fear not, Emma — I cannot turn a corner w/o injuring myself — I’ve come to think of it as a congenital birth defect, this walking into walls. It’s quite sad, really.

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