I Knew You Were Trouble When You Logged In

Right now I'd be willing to bet that a dial up connection would be faster than my computer.  Web pages are loading or not loading as though there's a temperamental person on the other end deciding.

But the damnedest thing of all was that my Norton antivirus was nowhere to be found.  It's like being dropped into a back of zombies and Daryll just bailed on you.  Only Daryll would never do that, would you?

Where the FUCK is my Norton anti-virus shit, what am I paying you people for?  I ran a few system searches for Norton and came up empty handed.  I felt hopeless and alone in this struggle.  Hell, I'd even take that floating paper clip with two eye balls if he'd help me with anything other than a letter.

 

Paperclip:  Hi!  Can I help you?
Me: Yes, you can help me with a strongly worded letter to Norton antivirus or a missing application report to put Norton's face on the back of a milk carton.

So I pull out my phone and call Norton's antivirus support and am greeted on the other line by a chipper fellow from India named Atul (Pronounced ah-TOOL).  I don't know where I exactly land on the customer service end whether I'd prefer to talk to a person or the automated machine.  Both can be helpful or infuriating depending on the company/customer service rep.  Atul assures me he can fix this and I believe his tone of voice which has a certain "we're in this together" quality.  I can practically feel his arm around my shoulder.  Atul walks me through the first couple sets of instructions and is extremely specific in what I am to type in the address bar.  He even goes to the point of using (that thing with the letters and the words) so as to not be misunderstood.  I don't find his accent difficult to understand and compliment his English.  Because my computer is crawling to open anything, there's ample downtime for small talk.  Atul asks me where I'm from and vice versa.  I discover that it's 9PM in New Delhi where he is compared to my 11AM.

But you know what Atul?  We're looking at the same moon.  Boop.

We've built a rapport, but we've reached the point in our relationship where Atul wants to take it to the next level.  This is a terrifying/exhilarating proposition.  We haven't even known each other that long.  He asks my permission gently, he explains exactly what he's going to do to me (I mean my computer).  I feel exposed, but I trust Atul; he's given me no reason not to.  He's going to make everything all better.  So I make the connection and Atul takes control of my computer.

Atul:  You see me moving the mouse on your screen?
Me:  Yes, yes I do.

I take a moment to wonder if he's taunting me with it displaying his control, or just demonstrating to me that I need to leave my hands the fuck off the steering wheel and Atul my Hindu brother's got this shit.  I trust it's the latter.  If I were him, I'm not sure I could resist the temptation to troll.  Meatspin comes to mind.

He opens up some sort of diagnostic scan thing (out of thin air it seems) and begins scanning my computer.  No surprise, my computer comes back positive for mal-ware, registry errors, and it's in a critical operating state.

So I hear critical and think we've reached critical mass, this is it, the computer could melt down any second!  GET DOWN!  SHE'S GONNA BLOW!  Atul, ever the professional, pulls a Third Eye Blind and talks me off the ledge.  He explains that this can all be resolved he's just going to put me on hold and get his supervisor.

Wait, what?  Atul can't handle this himself?  This must be really bad.  In my line of work this would be the equivalent of somebody's groin site hemorrhaging after an angiogram and I'm attempting to appear calm as I've got my outstretched arms on that geyser of a puncture site.  You'll be fine though, I'm going to call the Doctor.

As my panic subsides another revelation occurs.  My pupils dilate, my heart speeds, and my hands clench.  I didn't call them to diagnose and fix my computer!  I called them to halp me find Norton.  So why didn't Atul do that?!  I retrace my steps frantically googling the norton tech support number on my phone and to my horror the number I dialed was the first one!  (Stupid, stupid, stupid!)  Sure the description had the word Norton in it, but wouldn't someone trying to sell you stuff use the keywords you would search?  Especially if you were desperate?!  I recall this famous example of a google search for Dominos, and the first number that pops up is Pizza Hutt's.

Meanwhile that silver tongued Atul has been working me, greasing me up for his supervisor to come in and finish the job!  It was all a setup!    Atul!  How could you?!  I trusted you!  I told you things I've never told any other tech support person.  But no!  You're all the same! I want to call Taylor Swift and Adele and eat gallons of Ben and Jerry's.

Betrayal and hurt evaporate into quick thinking and malice as I'm still on hold awaiting Atul's supervisor.  I turn off my computer and my phone at the same time severing our connection and our friendship.  I'm pacing my living room, cursing my naivete when my phone rings a 1-800 number.  A gentleman with a stern, idonthavetimeforthisbullshit voice introduces himself as Atul's supervisor.  I don't give this bro a New Delhi minute to pitch me.

Supervisor:  Let me ask you a question-
Me: No let me ask you a question.  Do you work for Norton?
Supervisor:  We're an independant company that supports Norton products.
Me: Aha.  So it's no accident your number is the one that appears on the top when you type Norton antivirus.
Supervisor:  Sir if you just-
Me:  Nah we're done here, I've decided to take a different direction with dealing my computer problems.

CLICK CLICK BOOM!

They almost had me!  I was complacent and vulnerable and almost bought more anti virus software.  I'm convinced now that the virus makers and the anti virus companies are in it together ya know?  Supply and demand.