Blog de Puree

Randye had a hell of an IT day today. A crack squad of suicide gremlins attacked her computer and the printer connection, delaying and lengthening her work day by about 3 and a half hours.

Here’s a quick synopsis of what happened.
Problem one: Randye’s Quark Xpress application, which she uses to create print page layouts, had a corrupted font file that kept screwing up the works every time she tried to create a PDF file to print. She called the Quark help desk earlier in the day and was able to fix that problem by doing some fancy footwork with a particular Courier font file.
Problem two: Every time Randye tried to print large color prints of magazine covers with her Epson printer to send to her clients for proofing purposes, it stopped dead in the middle of printing. The solution involved a team effort, of which I’m happy to relate.

By the time I got home from work, around 4:30, she was beside herself, but in good spirits, over the fact that she researched, troubleshot and almost solved the first problem herself. She was in the midst of trying to solve the second problem.

After I had finished taking care of a few odd chores around the house and squelching my enthusiasm over the fact that my new DeWalt drill/driver actually did drill into the concrete in the basement to allow me to patch some leaks with hydraulic cement (another story, another time), I came upstairs to find Randye about to wrap up her second help desk call, this time with Epson, the manufacturer of her color printer.

“Wait a minute,” she said to the phone. “My husband is here. I have a second pair of hands. Let’s continue with this call.”

Taking my cue, I stood at attention, front and center.

“Paul, I think I unplugged the computer’s power cord from the CPU by mistake. Can you crawl under the shelving unit and see what’s happening and plug it back in?”

“Roger,” I replied, and proceeded to crawl under the shelf and behind the CPU , which doesn’t come out fully because the cords are too short. I then discovered that I had successfully wedged myself in, under and behind the shelf, unable to come out, like a submarine sailor crawling under the floor grates in the engine room, frantically trying to stop the leak of sea water that threatened to drown the entire engine room crew that is trapped there. (Movies that come to mind are Das Boot and U571.)

I saw the problem. The cord had been detached somehow from the back of the CPU, and not from the plug in the power strip. I plugged it back in and there I stayed. Trapped. Awaiting my fate. A calm submariner resigned to a grisly end at the hands of thousands of pounds of pressure forcing salt water in at immeasurable speeds. That salt water, of course, being the sweat pouring off of me as I lay in the dark, dusty, and deathly hot corner under the shelf. Meanwhile, Randye calmly ran through the troubleshooting sequence to fix the printer issue with the IT help guy on the phone.

During a lull, as we waited for a sample to successfully print from the printer, I called out to her from my dark, hot corner to let her know that my new drill worked with the masonry drill bit.

“See my happy dance?” I asked, as I tried to wriggle my hips and legs that stuck out from under the shelf. She acknowledged with a smile and I was happy with that. Why? Because anyone who has ever dealt with a frantic woman, at her wit’s end with computer issues, especially when it may stop her from earning her salary, knows that the slightest positive look or comment that emanates from her tortured soul is to be cherished like the gift of fire from the gods.

Luckily for me, Davy Jones was not going to drag me to the deep, dark abyss of his oceanic locker. To my good fortune, there are two fans placed at the back of the CPU that help to cool the insides and all the computer technology that can run hot. Every couple of minutes they would turn on automatically and blow luke warm air on my face. A life-line from Apple computer.

About twenty minutes after I managed to wedge myself into my precarious spot, Randye and the help desk technician were able to sort things out. It turned out that the problem was that the cable to the printer needed to be plugged directly into the CPU, not to the old USB 1.0 hub that I gave her. (For those unfamiliar, a hub is plugged into the computer and all your peripheral tools like printers, scanners, etc. can then plug into the hub. It’s great for when you don’t have enough, well, plugs!)

And so, the call over, and everything sorted out, Randye declared she needed a drink. I managed to wriggle myself out from under the shelf and behind the computer, and I told Randye that I should have been a submariner, as I remained cool, calm and collected in such tight quarters during a crisis situation. Then, I went to cook dinner. She still had work to do.