To the god of gadgets

Dear Sir

I hope you and the latest model are keeping well.

Pleasantries dispensed with, I suppose you are wondering why I am contacting you in writing - as all my previous interaction has consisted of less-formal descriptions of the four-lettered kind. Well, dear Sir, you can crack open a bottle of lubricant or pump up the circuits - or whatever you crazy nuts are doing to celebrate these days - because I am writing to inform you of my surrender. I give up. You win.

I won't fight it any more. Like a petulant toddler, you have worn me down. I had long ago accepted that interaction with anything involving a power cable would be testing, but today you cracked me. In the battle of wills between good and evil, the dark side has won. I'm sure you and Darth Vader are having a good laugh.

You see, Mills and I bought a computer today. We just needed a standard desktop, check-email, upload-holiday-pics, computer. That's all. Walk into shop, point at computer, pay for computer, walk out.

But you know the story already, don't you? You know how it ends. Please tolerate me elaborating anyway. I need the cathartic therapy and I'm sure you'll enjoy reliving the moment.

We bought the computer - the PC, monitor, the keyboard and the mouse. It came in a big, prepackaged box from a reputable dealer, with a one-year warranty. We got the heavy box home on the bus on a Saturday afternoon (you must have enjoyed that viewing pleasure, you sick f...). Sorry, I'll control myself I promise.

Like I was saying, we got the computer home and read the English instructions (that was a nice touch... it gave us hope. False hope is always entertaining). We attached the monitor and the keyboard and the mouse to the computer and we turned it on. There was power on the screen for a second, followed by a "No signal" error and then nothing.

We tried again. Nothing. We admitted that we may have connected something incorrectly. We tried switching cords/plugs/power points and cables. We called the computer shop. The computer shop asked us if we had plugged in the computer. The computer shop transferred us to the central helpdesk. The central helpdesk told us that we would have to take the PC back into the shop.

Were you watching this the whole time or did you change the channel while we navigated the public transport back into town?

We got back to the computer shop and explained that our same-day purchased computer wasn't working. They set it up to have a look. Oh, this is where your beauty broke me, Your Perniciousness... the computer switched on without a problem. The artistry of your work almost reduced me to tears.

I particularly liked the touch of having your human minions patronise us. And we're foreign too. Pity we're not American, otherwise we would've had the full stupid label. Oh dear... you're not American are you? No offence meant, I've just always pictured you as a god of the Indian-persuasion.

Back on the bus and home again. Plugged in the monitor and the keyboard and the mouse to the computer. Low and behold, it worked! Again, the false hope was a tweak of perfection. The ups and downs of the emotional day have exhausted me, and I commend you for it. Masterful, truly masterful.

Now Mills and I sit and stare, dear Sir, because we don't have the energy to take the computer back to the computer shop to find out why we cannot change the working language from Dutch to English. Again, nice touch. Especially as we asked if it was possible to change the language selection, and were assured that it would be the first option on the installation process; especially as we phoned the helpdesk to point out that there was no such option; especially as the helpdesk got a second chance in one afternoon to check that we had plugged the computer in.

So now, bearing my pitiful capitulation in mind, please can you stop tormenting me? I am sorry that I thought I was stronger and more resilient than you. I am sorry for thinking that being human means that I am mightier than a computer. I am sorry for my arrogance.

You know all those times that I threatened to dropkick an appliance out of our second storey window? Well, I know that probably irked you somewhat. I apologise for that too.

Now, please... please... can you find someone else to mock for a while? I'd love to set up a computer and have it work on the first attempt. I'd love to be the person at work who does not call IT every single day because the computer has forgotten my profile. I would love to be the one on whom the train doors do not slam shut.

(I realise the latter may be an indirect request, but I'm guessing you're in touch with the god of public transport, so perhaps you could share this letter with him? It'll save me the postage and give you something to talk about at the next god-like social event.)

In short, Your Nefariousness... I'm tired.
Please can you cut me some slack?

Yours in miserable deference,
Twisted Koeksuster