That’d be my work computer. Thankfully, we have a new one on the way, but in the meantime, it’s somewhat akin to interacting with a 79-year-old angry woman who is insisting on wearing a beekeeper’s hat and a muumu and tries to shout her drive-through order at the post office drop box. I saw that Kristin was sending me a Spark message (our interoffice chat software) and yet? I couldn’t open it up. Or rather, I could open it, but all I got was a big white screen. So, I reverted to my Usual Form of Chat Software, which is talking loudly over/through the wall that separates us. I continue to defy the concept of CHAT.
And don’t even ask Madge (that’s what I’m going to call this computer until she leaves me) if she wants to play the iTunes. I might as well play the autoharp in the deep end of the pool. Freezing, paralysis, general confusion and threats of shutting down completely ensue. I thought perhaps it was just a phobia against “fun” things that make my workday enjoyable, but Madge also has a deep-seated hatred of anything Adobe, and plays russian roulette when I open Excel.
The good news is, my IT folks are fully supportive of an Office-Space-esque Michael Bolton full-on freak out on this machine once Madge II gets here and is up and running. Until then, I’m just going to let her wear her crazy outfits and speak in soothing tones and hope she doesn’t spread her gospel of confusion and hatred to the printer/photocopier.