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Spacecrab's Journal
LB in SF
A little peace and happiness 
12th-May-2004 03:31 pm

My friendly neighborhood coffeehouse has a young counterperson who plays "The Kink Kronikles" and Van Morrison's "Astral Weeks" (among other infrequently-accessed, but not forgotten musico-cortical experiences).

Violin strains of the Jack Nitzsche/Neil Young "Emperor of Wyoming" move me to set aside my work-for-hire dissertation on the ATA classifications of IDE hard drives, and come here.

The music gives sweet respite from the lottery ticket process of invoking Dell technical support -- which is how I've started the last several days. Laptop part breaks. Onsite service call brings replacement. Replacement part breaks again. Dell L2 supervisor refuses another onsite service call: "Too many broken parts for you, Mister! You'll have to mail the box to us." (L2 supervisor enters note in customer profile: "Do not provide onsite service or ship any more plastic parts to this user. Unit must be returned to the Depot.")

Time passes. Repeat calls for help and pleas for mercy to other support reps:

"All I did was open the lid. It made a creaking sound and a crack appeared in the lid. I know how you feel about these things. I tried to pretend it wasn't there. But the crack got larger every time I opened the computer. Maybe the fastening screws to the LCD cover were in too tight."

((Stress points, plastic. Maybe your current parts distributor for this three-year-old unit has lower quality standards than the last one. Here I am: unworthy destroyer of computers, public enemy of profitable business, pleading for mercy and honoring of the service contract.))

"Oh, you will. Thank you, thank you. I promise I'll be good to it." ((And never call again, until the next time the LCD panel goes out with a series of vertical stripes, or the PCMCIA controller on the motherboard fails and no longer recognizes my network card.))

My counterperson-dj has the recessive, but existent, "I like Dylan's voice" gene (which may be similar to the "I like/hate/can't taste cilentro" gene). So I've been slipping some live Rolling Thunder stuff into her playlist.

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