Henry, Fixer UpperPosted on November 28th, 2006 2 comments
My name is Henry the Adequate, and I am a superhero.
I relax in the plush leather office chair, behind my plush leather office desk, feet propped with much coolness like one of those guys in the movies. I sure do like my new office, and I sure do like all of the excellent superhero business it is bringing me. That kitten rescuing certainly does the soul good, not to mention the pizza. I grab another slice and munch munchingly.
“Hello?” Ah, it appears I have a client. Again. Phew. Images of rest and relaxation flit briefly across my brain, but only for an instant, for duty calls, like a particularly insistent duck. I check the charge on my flamethrower in anticipation of yet another perilous battle against the forces of darkness. “Can you fix my computer?”
“Of course,” I nod wisely, “It does not say ‘Henry the Adequate, Superhero, Greengrocer, and Computer Guru’ on the door for nothing you know.”
“Great.” He dumps the computer box thing on my desk and I get to work. Expertly I reach out and, using all of my tremendous experience and guruness, press the power button. I can tell it is the power button because it is bigger than the others, and because it is labeled “Power”.
Nothing happens. This is bad. Really bad. I am uncertain how to break it to the poor sap, so I muster my not-inconsiderable mental forces, turn my subtlety and empathic powers to maximum, and say, “This is bad. Really bad.” Then I give a slightly sympathetic smile, which is where the empathic part comes in. “Wait here while I get my axe?”
“Axe? Don’t you want to try plugging it in first?” Ah. Right.
“Normally, yes. But this time I think I shall try plugging it in first,” I announce.
“Isn’t that what I just said?”
“Please, sir, you must allow me to do that which I do, so I will ask you to stop interrupting my professionalized diagnosorizing techniques.” I plug in the machine and press the power button again….. “Oh, no!” This is worse. Way worse than even I could have anticipated. “Windows!”
“Yes, it gets part-way through where the line thingy is going across the screen, then restarts again, and again, and it keeps doing that. Uh…. what are you doing?”
I pause. “What?”
“Is that, um, petrol you’re about to pour on my computer?”
“Napalm actually,” I respond, helpfully, “It is the only surefire cure for a Windows infection. Trust me, I’m a superhero.”
2 responses to “Henry, Fixer Upper”
You need something between you and your clients and I don’t mean your flamethrower or your power thingy…You need a non-fascist-yet breathing and living receptionist. I’d apply but I need to go buy chocolate
You can’t rush these things.