I don’t want to be here.
I wanted it to be so different.
I had hoped that my triumphant installation of a new PC as previously reported would be a highwater mark.
The truth is I made a bad decision about which interweb dooverwhacky delivery person-thingo I would go with.
I went for “Fred’s Fruit Shop & Wireless Broadband (not its real name) instead of “Big Bastard We Charge More Pty Ltd”.
I repented at my leisure.
That leisure was often spent waiting to get to some complicated destination like yahoo.com.au or abc.net.au.
b is for bloody as in hell.
p is pissed as in pissed off.
s is for … you know what !
So I went back to the shop and then spent a couple of hours on the phone talking to nice folk in Bangalore, but the outcome was inevitable.
Goodbye “Fred”, hello “Big Bastard”.
And apart from the FIVE phones calls and approximately TWO hours spent on the phone trying to do the highly unusual operation of installing the software, it’s been a triumph.
I should have known what was to come when I opened the booklet and I read the terrifying sentence “it’s really simple to get online and start FaceSkyping with your net budderoonies”.
No it isn’t, no it wasn’t.
But why can’t it be or is frustration/anger/bewilderment as you install a PC some kind of deliberate bastardisation ritual ?
There’s a Nobel Prize out there for the smart girl or guy who can make setting a up a computer and the other bits and pieces a breeze.