Don't get jealous, but I have my own tech guy. You've probably figured out by now, it's my software engineer husband, Dan.
In this high-tech world, it's pretty fabulous to have your own tech guy. It beats waiting for someone to answer your help ticket or watching in horror as someone unplugs and re-plugs cables into strange orifices just to "see if this will work."
A couple of years ago, all of our work computers came down with a terrible virus (cough, cough). Turned out, someone forgot to load security software during the annual re-imaging. But my computer was just fine because I had my own tech guy. He had already loaded antivirus software on my system as soon as he saw my unprotected system.
This year, we received new computers, and I had to hook up my own surround sound equipment because the people who plugged in the new computers left a mess of speaker cables on my desk. (I get it. Plugging in stuff is tiring.) But it was fine. I had my own tech guy.
Not only does my personal tech guy have to put up with my nonstop cries for help, but he has to solve my tech problems over the phone, while I am having an anxiety attack: "What do I do? What do I do? The kids come in any minute. I'm running out of time!"
Or he has to talk me down from throwing my device against the wall: "What if I just kick it really hard? Will that work?"
Or he has to put up with being blamed for every computer ill in the entire world: "What did you do to my computer?"
The other day, I spent much of the morning on the phone with my husband, attempting to figure out some strangely-behaving software. He solved my problem by my fourth class. That evening, we were discussing, yet again, his miraculous save.
"I should start answering my phone at work, 'Duggan Tech Support,'" Dan said.
"But how would you know it's me?"
"I do have caller ID, you know."
Of course he does. He works in technology. Oh wait! I have caller ID too. I guess it is not that unusual nowadays.
"But how will you know for sure it's me? What if you answer the phone, 'Duggan Tech Support,'" I lifted my hand to my ear like a telephone, "and the school says, 'Uh . . . your wife just had a stroke. We're sending her to the emergency room?'"
"I'd say, 'Did you try rebooting her?'"
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