Ironic was the operative word for our office last week. At least I thought it should be.
We engaged in a semi-sweep of old, disengaged computer equipment to send off to the recycling depot. At least I hope that鈥檚 where it went.
We dumped servers, a few dozen monitors, keyboards, and stuff those of us who continually fail Computer Class 101 don鈥檛 care to know much about other than to hope it works when we want it to work. I don鈥檛 want to code programs or troubleshoot Wi and Fi.聽 I need to write stories.
So, all this relatively new, not-so-new and, unfortunately, some pretty new stuff that never really worked too well, went out the back door and into cyber-heaven or hell or at least, the recycle bins.
We were happy to see the electronic junk go because it freed up space for us to collect more of it because the computer companies are leading proponents of the great consumer game of ensuring all of their shiny new entries in 2015 are totally and completely obsolete by May of 2016 or, at the latest, January of 2017.
That鈥檚 just the way it has to be they say. And they rule.
So, while we were happily and loudly bidding adieu to useless electronic stuff, we quietly said hello to a very old and still quite functional office friend.
Someone unearthed our old wall-mounted pencil sharpener and re-attached it, to a desk.
This is just crazy, I thought. Fifteen servers, 28 keyboards and two dozen monitors went out the door and one pencil sharpener came in. Maybe our office angel found it hidden behind some desktop wires in a cupboard.
I last caught a glimpse of our beloved sharpener in the early 1980s during one of our fairly frequent geographic moves within the confines of the Energy City.
Ever since then, whenever one of us needed to sharpen a pencil, we鈥檇 victimize Kim or Gayle in the front office and they鈥檇 have to go looking for that thimble-like single blade My Little Pony thingy that only pretended to sharpen a pencil. That old crank and pencil wood grinder was long gone.
Well, now it鈥檚 back and on Saturday I gleefully sharpened three pencils, including one new one, within 12 seconds.
Now when I temporarily lose my note-taking iPhone or it runs out of juice (again) and when a ballpoint pen ceases to make itself readily available, I can once again grab a reliable ten cent pencil with H2 lead. And if the lead breaks, I can now walk 10 steps to the sharpener and fix it in four seconds.
When my computer goes down, I generally have to wait hours, if not days. And then I am instructed to 鈥渢ry this, or access it through that, or change your password, identification, wife, lawnmower and car 鈥� maybe that鈥檒l work. If not, phone (using old technology I guess) our help desk where you鈥檒l be greeted by a superior being who knows how to argue with cranky computers and you while ignoring all social skills taught to him by his mother, grandmother and Grade 1 teacher.鈥�
I quietly comply, listen to elevator music while waiting for somebody named Lance or Malcolm to join me on ye olde telephony so we can engage in an old fashioned voice-to-voice conversation which is unique for him, irritating for me.
He鈥檒l fix my computer. And if he ever comes across a pencil, I鈥檒l be able to help him fix it if it breaks, and how to keep it serviceable for 60 years, by dumping the wood shavings regularly. 聽 聽聽
