What I Learned from Blowing Up a PC

July 10, 2009 · by Joanna Paterson · in

I was already feeling just a little bit stressed.

Already that Saturday morning I’d finished sorting the clothes for our family holiday; made a detailed shopping list; left instructions on completion of the shopping, chores, organisation of the children and packing up of the car; gone into town to get my hair cut; phoned home to indicate that supervising children watching breakfast TV wasn’t on the list of things to be done; and left the hairdresser’s with hair still wet, unstyled, to avoid a parking ticket.

It was half past ten.  The clock was ticking but I still had time to finish what I had to do.  Ignoring the chaos at home I sped down to the office block where I worked, signed in at the security desk, noticed but didn’t stop to read a large poster about ‘TESTS’ with that day’s date on it, and crept through the silent, eerily half-lit building to my desk.

There was still Work To Be Done.  I had a letter to write, a piece of ministerial correspondence. I was working at the time as a civil servant, and part of the job involved drafting replies on behalf of government ministers to send out to other politicians, dignatories, members of the public and so on.  It was Important Work.  It was a Green Folder, and Green Folders were Important Work.

(The letters, draft replies and accompanying notes used to get passed around the office in a green folder, hence the name.  Although everything was done by computer even in the olden days of 12 years ago, they were still known as Green Folders.)

I settled down at my desk, in the half-light, and set about the work.  Half an hour later and my fingers were flying.  My brain was whirring and the words were pouring forth.  This letter was nearly done, I could send it off, switch off, and go home and rejoin the fun chaos.

Then… boom!

Okay, it was just a dull boom, more of a puff really, but as the computer sighed the screen went dead.  Black.  Empty.  Silent.

Don’t panic, I thought.

I checked the computer.  Applied all my technical expertise.  Switched it off, then on.  Then off, then on.

Nothing, nada, niente.

The machine was dead.

Don’t panic, I thought. You’ve still got time.  Use another machine.

I moved round the corner to another machine.  Switched it on and got back to work.  The draft was gone but the words were still flying around my head.  I could recreate it.  I could still finish the draft, add the notes, send it on, switch it all off and be back at home in time to resume the chaos fun.

The clock was ticking faster.  My fingers were slipping on the keyboards.  The words were jumbling as I tried to formulate the perfect sentence to get the dratted thing finished and sent off in time.  The clock kept ticking, but I was nearly there then…

Boom.

That dull boom, or was it a thud or a puff… No matter.  I recognised the sound.  I saw what it did to the screen.  Dead.  Black.  Empty. Silent.

I started to cry.

Determinedly applied my technical expertise once again: don’t panic, switch off, switch on, switch off, switch on… but I knew what the outcome would be.

Nothing.  Nada.  Niente.

Fixed by Don Fulano on Flickr

No Green Folder for me.  Out of time to try again.  A broken machine on my desk.  And a silent, empty screen on my colleague’s work station.

I started writing notes of explanation, of apology and regret.  Offers to fix, and recompense, and do penance on my return.

But finally, regretfully, realising that I was out of time to do more.

I walked quietly back out of the building.  Noticed once more the poster at the front desk, just fragments of words… warning, testing, electrical surges, do not use… and emerged, blinking, into the sunshine of the day and the start of my family holiday.

And when I got back to work, some two weeks later…

Was there hell to pay about the lateness of the Green Folder?

Was my colleague spitting mad that I’d blown up her PC?

Was the IT guy standing over my desk, demanding an explanation?

Was there a bill from the Finance Department asking for compensation for the exploding PCs?

Not a bit of it.

Just friends and colleagues asking: “Did you have a good time?  Did you enjoy your holiday?”

And the friendly chatter and exchange of news, places, stories and photos before we drank more tea, and slowly got back to work.

Nothing else to show from the stress of that morning.  Nothing.  Nada.  Niente.

Except my own, vivid memory of that heart sinking moment when the screens went dead, and the lessons I hope I have learned.

Namely that:

  • Stress and machines don’t mix
  • Some office notices are meant to be read
  • When the universe tells you to slow down a bit, don’t push your luck and ignore her warnings… or
  • If you blow up one PC you shouldn’t try using another
  • People don’t really care about deadlines, or machines, or broken objects: they care about you
  • Holidays should always come before writing projects, whatever the colour of the folder

~~~

This story is from about 12 years ago… hopefully I’ve learned my lessons now.

Thanks to Robert Hruzek at the Middle Zone for the chance to look back and reflect on past errors and lessons learned.

For yes, this post is a contribution to the group writing project: What I Learned from Bloopers, Mistakes and Embarassing Moments

If you want to take part, there’s still time: the project closes this Sunday evening.

Photo Credit: Fixed by Don Fulano on Flickr