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Mar 29
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I bought my first computer during my final year of college. Custom built for me by my best friend, it sported a processor that smoked (compared to the school lab computers, that is) and came with its own copy of Leisure Suit Larry. I was hooked from the moment I heard it go wrrrroooooooooo! as my own, personal copy of Windows 3.1 came to life.
I’d recently finished making thin sections for the geology department lab, and had taken a new work study position as a computer lab assistant. How I got that job is a mystery, given that I was in school for geology and creative writing (yes, I chose two majors with no job prospects), but I was instantly hooked.
That ugly little box was connected to maybe a thousand people! And they were all mean and snarky! I wasted no time learning the ropes, figuring my natural disposition would fit right in with the rest of the chaos.
A few of the lab assistants took me under their wings early on, showing me how to unfreeze the lab computers for the students and also how to waste time on the internet. This was the early days of the internet, before the web was really rolling. Back when we still got regular warnings from snotty system administrators that every word we wrote was being transmitted and re-transmitted all across the world, and all the pennies needed for connection fees added up to something like the price of a small island.
So because every word written supposedly cost the world eleventy-billion dollars, we didn’t get a Netscape license for the computer lab. Instead, we all logged into the web with a text program called Lynx. It was kinda cute, but the real action was in Usenet, where there were topics about anything you could think of, almost a thousand different topics.
It didn’t take me long to realize my empty soul would only find solace in PC ownership. Sitting around in the lab all night was attracting attention from some of the CompSci students; their aggressive “recruiting” efforts were starting to get freaky. So I got a gadget that I couldn’t afford, like any good American.
The first thing I did was install WordPerfect; the second was to figure out how to use my modem. I was in! Connected! In no time, I’d found my first flame war.
Mid-terms were only a few days away, and I’d written three papers already. It was nearly midnight, and I was working on a critique for someone in my writer’s group, when I encountered my first problem; I was out of disk space! Obviously, things needed deleting.
At first it was old files in the temp directory. That didn’t help much, so I deleted other old files and non-essential programs. And I still didn’t have disk space to spare. Perusing the file system, I saw that there were a few large programs that I never used (such as Word). Looking deeper, I came across one program that was not only enormous, but I had never even used it. Obviously, it was unnecessary. It needed killing! I deleted it, then rebooted my system.
Nothing happened. I pushed the power button again. The disk revved up, but it wouldn’t boot. Just as I was ready to smack the side of it (hey, it works on TVs!), the monitor lit up. And it told me to put in the boot disk. Having no idea what this “boot disk” thing was, I did the one smart thing of the day: I called Chris.
“Hey, something’s wrong with my computer,” I got right to the point. “It won’t start up and I have a paper due and I’m freaking out here. Help!” I was getting more frustrated and upset by the second. I was starting to rant. My brand-new, expensive computer that I was so proud of was now a doorstop.
“Don’t worry; we’ll fix it. So, what did you do?” Now, most people probably wouldn’t ask that. Most people would probably assume that something was wrong with the computer. But this is me we’re talking about, and Chris has been my friend since we were teenagers, so he knows better.
“Nothing! I was out of memory, so I deleted a few things. But that’s all, I swear!” I kept pushing the button. It didn’t make the box light up, but the clicky noise made me feel better.
“You have plenty of memory. You must have been out of disk space.” Memory, disk space, whatever. Good thing he couldn’t see me roll my eyes at him. Then he cautiously asked me, “What did you delete?”
“A bunch of college papers, a few games, that Word program, and some other stuff,” I rattled off a few more things, then said, “Oh. There was one program that was really big, and I never use it, so I got rid of it too.” This conversation was going nowhere. He wasn’t listening to me!
“Um, Vic, what was the name of that program?” He croaked. He sounded frightened, with a dash of hopeful thrown in for good measure.
“Dee Oh Ess. Or whatever.” I was getting crankier by the minute.
“You mean… DOS?” This time, I could swear he was choking back laughter.
“Yes, that one! I never use it. I only use Windows. It was huge and I didn’t need it sucking up all of my memory.” You see, I didn’t know much about computers, but I was smart enough to know that I had Windows. But I didn’t do any of that DOS stuff because Windows was so much, um, prettier. So I got rid of it.
(Note to Self: This was a bad thing. A realllllly Bad Thing.)
“Oh, God. You didn’t!” But yes, I had. I’d deleted DOS. “Oh, man, Vic, this is bad, this is very, very bad.” My heart crushed, he ground it in a little, “You NEVER delete DOS.” My heart rate doubled and I felt sick. No one had ever told me you needed DOS in order to run Windows. And it was now sounding like I’d destroyed the poor thing that I couldn’t afford in the first place.
After he’d had his fun with me, making me think the little computer chips were melting and a bunch of other evil stuff, he got down to business. Three hours later, Chris was out of Mountain Dew, so he set me free. He said that any of the guys down in the computer lab would be able to help out (thank you Matt, wherever you are.)
It was a long night. I was exhausted, and I think I may have had a tiny heart attack. Possibly even a stroke, judging from the new facial tic. But on the bright side, I did learn a valuable technique for keeping future husbands on their toes.
