Worshipping false gods

I arrived for my conference in Denver on Friday night, and I pulled out my computer to do a little work. No matter what I did, I couldn't get the wireless to work in my hotel. I tried the lobby. I tried the room my friend was staying in, setting my computer in the very place that his computer successfully picked up wireless. I turned it on and off a couple of times, each time trying a few new settings. No luck. I called the technical support number, and after waiting a long time to speak to someone, I inadvertently hung up on the guy after five minutes of unsuccessful troubleshooting. When I tried to call back, the help line kept dropping me. I was ready to pull my hair out. I would have donated a kidney to someone who could fix my tech problem.

As I discussed this situation with my friend, I told him my theory about the two different responses people have when a techie helps them solve a computer problem. The first response is even greater anger once the problem is solved, because if the stupid $&!+$ had set up everything correctly to begin with, then there would have been no problem in the first place. The second response is typically my response, and that is to prostrate myself on the ground and worship the person who was smart enough to fix the problem. People who can fix these problems are like gods to me. And what I needed at that moment was a god. Maybe two.

I know that I should have been more loyal to my professed monotheistic religion—I shouldn't seek out strange gods from strange lands (the IT department doesn't get much stranger). Moreover, it is probably a wise practice to retain both of my kidneys. I felt remorse, and I tried to look for the moral I was supposed to learn from the situation. Maybe I was not meant to fix my computer. Perhaps it was heavenly intervention to keep my computer from contracting a deadly virus. Or to keep me from sending my contact information to Mrs. Martha Darling in Tunisia who needs help moving $4.3 million to the US. Or to get me to exercise a little as I jumped up and down in frustration.

Whatever the reason, the curse was mysteriously lifted Saturday morning, when for no reason I can discern, I was suddenly able to gain access to the Internet. 'Oh, how the penitent are blessed and succored,' I gleefully thought. Then I quickly put away my little impromptu shrine to Buddha and checked my email.