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From Not Always Right: Bow Before The Beefy Brains Of Beard Guy!
One fine day, while attempting to work, I got the call weāve all gotten. Mom was in an absolute tizzy because her computer didnāt work. Agh.
My retired mom loved to Click All The Things, as moms do, and had gotten one of those viruses that lock your computer for āsecurity violationsā or something, with a dire warning to call āMicrosoftā at the number provided.
Sadly, she actually called the number and listened to the pitch in broken English. Happily, once the guy at the other end started demanding a credit card number, she finally got suspicious and hung up (despite her mortal fear of appearing ārudeā) and called me.
However, she had recently moved to a farm several miles from her remote ancestral village, at least four hours away from me, and there was no way this was something I could coach her through without tears on both sides.
Man, I would give $100 to get out of this predicamentā¦ and thus the light dawned.
Me: āMom, on the tiny road to your remote village, there should be a little house with a sign outside saying āCOMPUTERSā or āCOMPUTER REPAIRSā or something like that. Do I guess correctly?ā
Mom: āUm, yes, Iāve seen something like thatā¦ā
Me: āGood, thereās one in every village, even yours. Okay, hereās what you need to do. Take your laptop, along with the power adapter, to this house tomorrow morning. Inside that house will be a man with a large beard.ā
Mom: āWait. How do you know he has a beard?ā
Me: āHe will have a beard; trust me. The bushier the better. Anyway, give this man your computer, tell him exactly what happened, and ask him to fix it.ā
From Not Always Right: Bow Before The Beefy Brains Of Beard Guy!
One fine day, while attempting to work, I got the call weāve all gotten. Mom was in an absolute tizzy because her computer didnāt work. Agh.
My retired mom loved to Click All The Things, as moms do, and had gotten one of those viruses that lock your computer for āsecurity violationsā or something, with a dire warning to call āMicrosoftā at the number provided.
Sadly, she actually called the number and listened to the pitch in broken English. Happily, once the guy at the other end started demanding a credit card number, she finally got suspicious and hung up (despite her mortal fear of appearing ārudeā) and called me.
However, she had recently moved to a farm several miles from her remote ancestral village, at least four hours away from me, and there was no way this was something I could coach her through without tears on both sides.
Man, I would give $100 to get out of this predicamentā¦ and thus the light dawned.
Me: āMom, on the tiny road to your remote village, there should be a little house with a sign outside saying āCOMPUTERSā or āCOMPUTER REPAIRSā or something like that. Do I guess correctly?ā
Mom: āUm, yes, Iāve seen something like thatā¦ā
Me: āGood, thereās one in every village, even yours. Okay, hereās what you need to do. Take your laptop, along with the power adapter, to this house tomorrow morning. Inside that house will be a man with a large beard.ā
Mom: āWait. How do you know he has a beard?ā
Me: āHe will have a beard; trust me. The bushier the better. Anyway, give this man your computer, tell him exactly what happened, and ask him to fix it.ā
Mom: āOh, gosh, Iām so embarrassedā¦ā
(Contd)