Making friends is hard.
You know it, I know it, and anyone who has ever set foot in ‘somewhere new’ — whether than be a new office, or a new school — knows it. I know it all too well, after placing myself in a position where, on Thursday, I found myself needing to make a new friend. I want to tell you about it.
Last Sunday, I found myself partaking in an activity which, if you’re anything like me, you’re all-too-familiar with. That activity is, of course, online shopping — it’s OK: this is a safe space. Here, we can obsess over our internet shopping habits; mine are, at best, shameful, and at worst terrifying. I was on an internet-shopper’s favourite site (although I have refrained from making it my browser’s home page): Amazon.
Amazon is a shopper’s best friend — it’s addictive! There’s something so hypnotic, and so satisfying, about scrolling through pages and pages of items, with invariably increasing price tags, each more outlandish and unnecessary than its predecessor. Alas, I was scrolling, but scrolling with a purpose (cue Pink Panther theme…)
I clicked ‘Buy Now’.
The MacBook was sent.
Now, I’m that friend that you hate — I’ll even tell you that, free of charge, because I’m trying to make up for it. I am the friend — the obligatory ONE friend — who has a spreadsheet on their laptop (well, their iCloud, actually). That spreadsheet is entitled ‘Weekly Budget’, and within that spreadsheet lies some of my deepest, darkest secrets. If you ever want to blackmail me, that spreadsheet is all you need — it makes me blush with shame. (Yes, I spent £45 on coffee last week and I HAVE NO SHAME.
I have a lot of shame.)
** ** **
The doorbell rang. I rushed to the door…
OK, I must stop myself right there, for I have sinned. I lie — the doorbell did not ring. Our doorbell has a dead battery. However, “the door knocked” just doesn’t have the same, uh, ring to it. (Pun absolutely intended.)
The FedEx delivery driver handed (nay threw) me a large cardboard box, spinning on his heel as if running from the scene of a crime, which indeed he was: I just murdered my bank account — yay!
Gently, I carried the box into my living room, treating it with love, care and respect: I always feel it’s best to greet technology with respect, in case the robots strike… Upon opening the box, I found a sea of those stupid little polystyrene balls — what are they about?! How does a box full of squeaky plastic balls protect, well, anything at all? (Quick hint — it doesn’t.)
Within the box was — can you guess — another box, this time wrapped in thin, unbreakable plastic. Thanks, Apple.
Eventually, I held in my clammy, unworthy hands, my beautiful new MacBook Air. It was — and indeed is — so smooth, so weightless, and so bloody expensive! I loved it.
After spending a few seconds (fine, 20 minutes) trying to figure out the charger — don’t judge me, I’m thick —, I excitedly switched on my brand new laptop, and cautiously-yet-deliberately pressed the appropriate keystroke to start the in-built screenreader. As promised, it started flawlessly, and guided me through the frankly-complicated set-up process.
I pressed a button, completely accidentally.
The whole thing turned Chinese.
With English restored (I don’t know how TBH), I valiantly pressed on, and eventually set-up, updated and prepared my laptop for our next few years together.
I like to think that my MacBook decided to begin initiation at this point, assessing how worthy an owner I am. For the records, I’m an extremely unworthy owner, and my MacBook knows it. It decided that, having survived set-up, it would just spontaneously shut down on me. I mean, like, why not?
We went through a ‘I want to turn off” cyclic tantrum for around half-an-hour, before Kel — your personal champion — emerged, victorious.
Next, it stopped talking. “Big deal,” I hear you saying, “get over it.” Well, in fact, it is a rather big deal indeed if, like me, you’re blind, and can’t see the screen. It just stopped talking — bam, just like that —, and remained silent for 5-10 minutes, before bursting into life, gabbling and gabbling and gabbling. Clearly, this was another test from the robots, but your carrier stood brave and defiant, and, once more, won the battle.
My MacBook has been much more tame since. Maybe it has accepted its new life; maybe it’s plotting its next attempt at world domination, or at the very least how to wind me up. I will keep you informed, but for now, I hope you enjoyed this post!!