No Problem...
How I detest that phrase, as it has become an integral part of the lingua franca, the flippant response given so thoughtlessly to any and all - usually irritating - situations.
So when our good neighbour Mohindar, came knocking on Sunday evening, son Ineran in tow, he was greeted like the good neighbour he is. We're always glad to see him, and his son, too. Mind, the timing wasn't considerate, just a tad after six in the evening, and we were already seated at the table, having our dinner.
Mohindar is usually sensitive, careful to be obliging, not to offend. So, we felt there was a little urgency in the matter, but in fact, it was a rather routine matter. As Mohindar explained it, they just wanted to know if Ineran could use our computer, access the Internet and arrange for a subscription to a new Internet provider; their contract had lapsed, and they were looking for an alternate, less expensive source.
He apologized, of course, when he realized we were having dinner. Ineran, all of 15 years old, had had a late hockey practise session, and they'd had lunch at two in the afternoon, so they'd be having their dinner late; he hadn't foreseen we would be eating. No matter, we told them they could work upstairs where the computer is located, and we'd get on with our dinner.
When they left, mission accomplished, fourty minutes later, I tried to use the telephone; busy. We've got dial-up service, so up I trudged to have a look at the computer. Monitor off, but computer on. Ineran hadn't gone off line. So I right-clicked the monitor icon to go off line, but instead of the usual rapid response, there was no response. Did it again, and repeated it once more.
Something was awry, so I just put the computer in rest mode and it went off line. Later, when I went back up to go on line myself, there was the icon back in place and informing me that I was on line, but I wasn't. And no amount of clicking to and from, using any of the various options, seemed to do any good.
Nothing for it, but to try shutting the computer down, and that did it; once up again the icon behaved as it should, was responsive to my commands.
Later, when I accessed various web sites common to my evening practise, I discovered that all of my password settings had disappeared. So for every single one of them I had to re-set the passwords. What about courtesy, I fumed, what about simple computer etiquette? I've had many people use my computer, and never, ever, have I encountered this kind of nuisance residue of their use.
Each of them have respected my privacy and the integrity of my personal computer. We've known Ineran since he was an adorable toddler. True, he wraps his parents around his little finger. The household beats to his tune, and none other; his is the deciding voice in all matters. He's a quiet, not a boisterous boy, although he loves competitive sports.
I'd always thought of him as being cerebral, bookish, and was shocked when, in response to my query, he said he never reads anything, neither newspapers nor books of any kind. So? Most young people today naturally gravitate to other means of entertainment, information-gathering, all related to computers, games, electronic devices.
I haven't asked him since what or why he did what he obviously felt compelled to do.
His parents know nothing whatever about computers. He obviously feels we know next to nothing about them, as well, and he's partially correct. We're not 15-year-old kids who delight in fads and gamesmanship and electronics. He's outwardly respectful, and a very decent young man. Why would he deliberately compromise someone else's computer, in such a petty manner?
Later, I put the computer through some paces, looking for the possible presence of malware interference, or viruses: clean. Merely childish mischief? One of life's little mysteries.
So when our good neighbour Mohindar, came knocking on Sunday evening, son Ineran in tow, he was greeted like the good neighbour he is. We're always glad to see him, and his son, too. Mind, the timing wasn't considerate, just a tad after six in the evening, and we were already seated at the table, having our dinner.
Mohindar is usually sensitive, careful to be obliging, not to offend. So, we felt there was a little urgency in the matter, but in fact, it was a rather routine matter. As Mohindar explained it, they just wanted to know if Ineran could use our computer, access the Internet and arrange for a subscription to a new Internet provider; their contract had lapsed, and they were looking for an alternate, less expensive source.
He apologized, of course, when he realized we were having dinner. Ineran, all of 15 years old, had had a late hockey practise session, and they'd had lunch at two in the afternoon, so they'd be having their dinner late; he hadn't foreseen we would be eating. No matter, we told them they could work upstairs where the computer is located, and we'd get on with our dinner.
When they left, mission accomplished, fourty minutes later, I tried to use the telephone; busy. We've got dial-up service, so up I trudged to have a look at the computer. Monitor off, but computer on. Ineran hadn't gone off line. So I right-clicked the monitor icon to go off line, but instead of the usual rapid response, there was no response. Did it again, and repeated it once more.
Something was awry, so I just put the computer in rest mode and it went off line. Later, when I went back up to go on line myself, there was the icon back in place and informing me that I was on line, but I wasn't. And no amount of clicking to and from, using any of the various options, seemed to do any good.
Nothing for it, but to try shutting the computer down, and that did it; once up again the icon behaved as it should, was responsive to my commands.
Later, when I accessed various web sites common to my evening practise, I discovered that all of my password settings had disappeared. So for every single one of them I had to re-set the passwords. What about courtesy, I fumed, what about simple computer etiquette? I've had many people use my computer, and never, ever, have I encountered this kind of nuisance residue of their use.
Each of them have respected my privacy and the integrity of my personal computer. We've known Ineran since he was an adorable toddler. True, he wraps his parents around his little finger. The household beats to his tune, and none other; his is the deciding voice in all matters. He's a quiet, not a boisterous boy, although he loves competitive sports.
I'd always thought of him as being cerebral, bookish, and was shocked when, in response to my query, he said he never reads anything, neither newspapers nor books of any kind. So? Most young people today naturally gravitate to other means of entertainment, information-gathering, all related to computers, games, electronic devices.
I haven't asked him since what or why he did what he obviously felt compelled to do.
His parents know nothing whatever about computers. He obviously feels we know next to nothing about them, as well, and he's partially correct. We're not 15-year-old kids who delight in fads and gamesmanship and electronics. He's outwardly respectful, and a very decent young man. Why would he deliberately compromise someone else's computer, in such a petty manner?
Later, I put the computer through some paces, looking for the possible presence of malware interference, or viruses: clean. Merely childish mischief? One of life's little mysteries.
Labels: Personally Dedicated, Whoops
posted by Pieface @ 5:46 PM
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