So I'm on the phone with the computer company for the second night in a week.
The first time, they told me to go out and get a part that ended up not fixing the problem with my relatively new printer. I was calling again, to figure out what to do next.
The person on the other end this second time introduced himself as Robby and proceeded to run through diagnostics. Eventually, he asked if he could take remote control of my computer. Soon he was maneuvering the mouse around my desktop, silently, kind of like what happens when the spirits take over the Ouija board.
Along the way, there was a lot of down time as we had to wait for me to shut down and restart, over and over. So I started asking questions, like, where was he?
The Philippines.
Family?
A wife, 2-year-old son and 4-month-old daughter.
How's the economy in the Philippines?
Not good. Exports are down and a lot of people have lost their jobs.
Meanwhile, I'd been reading the paper and told him that I was staring at two full pages of foreclosure ads, a not uncommon occurrence these days.
He wanted to know what I did for a living, then told me how he'd worked in a restaurant before coming to this job. He's happy and said it provides a nice living for his family. While the hours can be tiring, he said that even when he's exhausted from working odd shifts, there is nothing better than coming home to hugs and kisses from his boy.
He eventually was able to isolate the problem and made arrangements to send me a new printer. Then he finished with the standard, "Thank you for contacting us, will there be anything else?"
"Uh, no," I said. "Good luck with your family."
And that was that.
I don't know what I was expecting. Maybe it was the fact that he was rooting around on my cluttered desktop, a little like having someone rummage through your underwear drawer. Or maybe it was that we'd spent so much time together on the phone -- nearly three hours. But I had begun to feel we had a bond. I don't know if I thought we might become pen pals or that I could be his new best friend in the States, and he could bring his family here for fudge and the sand dunes, or what.
But I felt a little let down for a minute, as if, with our conversations, hadn't we gone beyond being faceless customer and technician on opposite ends of the line?
No.
Maybe I just need to get another cat.
Reach Kathy Gibbons at gibbonskath@yahoo.com.
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