I’m sure you all know Ziggy, the cartoon character who seems to have a perpetual black cloud over his head. You may call me Techno Ziggy.
As you know, I live in fear of fooling with Mr. Template, or anything that has the word “config” in it. I wonldn’t go near an SQL, even if I knew what it was. I am battle scarred from tangling ass with Mr. Laptop.
Still, I keep trying.
I got the message from Symantec informing me that my anti-virus software is about to expire.
I read the message with dread, as I sensed the dark cloud already beginning to form. Knowing that this was a task I could not ignore, lest my computer become completely devoured by viruses, I followed the links. In so doing, I learned that I could “renew” my current subscription, but that my current version (2002) is considered a cyber-relic not worthy of ownership (and not “supported” – I loathe that word). Clearly what I needed was the souped-up 2005 version.
I noted that the “cloudette” was beginning to become a genuine cloud.
I followed all the links, provided all the requested information, choosing the “download” version. I printed all my confirmations, and now it was time to click the “download” button and watch the magic happen. I stared at it for a while, hoping against hope that everything would work out fine. I took the plunge.
The download window appeared and, in short order, did nothing – zero, zilch. The damnable thing just sat there in freeze mode only to be followed by one of those really scary “error” windows. The instructions advised that I should feel free to try again (Thanks a bunch), which I did. I held my breath and again pushed the button that now mocked me by calling itself “Download.”
NOTHING. Nothing, that is, but the same lifeless download window appeared, only to stare at me in hateful defiance and download nothing. Abso-farookin’-lutely NOTHING.
The cloud has now fully formed and is getting ugly.
Seeing as how I had just paid for “support” (Did I mention that I loathe that word?), I called the Customer Service number and was connected to a nice fellow with a Canadian accent. I explained the problem, and he had me look in my current files under “Norton.” I did that, and confirmed that the only Norton anti-virus software that is on my machine is the current version (i.e the one I’ve been using). Call me a smartass, but I believe that all that exercise accomplished was to confirm that the software I just bought and which I could not download was not on my machine. Gadzooks! Imagine that?
I stupidly thought that confirming a non-download would be the stepping-off point for solving my problem. However, the nice fellow said, “I’m afraid that there’s nothing I can do for you other than to change your order to the disc set, which you can install locally.” (I’m sure I’ve mentioned how much a truly loathe the word “support”). Feeling like I did in calculus class decades ago when I was too lost to even ask a question, I simply sighed and replied, “Sure.”
The ferocious dark cloud just emptied its contents on me.
My order was duly changed, and in three to five working days, I will receive a box via UPS containing the necessary disc and instructions.
At that time, the cloud will again form, I will speak again with a nice fellow for “support,” and I will end up with a computer that is a virus magnet.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll tell you about my call the other day to Comcast about my Television cable service. Right now, I’ve got to get out of these wet clothes.