IT Hardware Technician

Facebook threw up this memory from 23 May 2015, nothing much has changed ...

I’m thinking of adding "IT hardware technician" to my profile.

I have spent most of this lovely afternoon setting up Fester’s (aka Grumpypants) new desktop pc and putting/switching preferred keyboards and monitors onto the computers used most by him or me.  I now have the oldest keyboard which is the sturdiest and has direct email and www buttons:  but, since the man with three degrees used to use it for writing papers, it has now lost most of the letters on the keys. Good thing I learnt to touch type.

And what do I get for my troubles?

Grumpypants "It's gone! Where's it gone?"

Me "Where's what gone?"

Grumpypants, waving vaguely at my old computer screen, "The thing that lets you look at your files!  The Windows Explorer thingy?!" meaning I suppose the shortcut button/icon.

Me (with decreasing patience and increasing incredulity) "It hasn't gone anywhere.  It's a new computer.  It's a new desktop.  So you have to pin it to the start menu and put up the short cut yourself."

"Where is it?  Where do I find it?"

Me through gritted teeth "Click on start and go into programs"

"But where is it?"

"Oh For Crying Out Loud! Get up, get out, let me be and I'll flaming well do it" (or words to that effect)

... and yes I know he's probably being deliberately technically obtuse so someone else will do it for him ...

That Is Not The Bag

Facebook threw up this memory from Star Wars Day two years ago …

Thursday 4 May 2017 ·

Fester went to the pub last Wednesday and again this Wednesday night to pick up the kit for Strawshop Rapper.

When I came downstairs this morning there was a red cloth bag of stuff dumped on the dining table.

This evening he comes in and asks me where "the bag with the rapper jackets has gone/been put".

I indicate the red bag.

"No that's the stuff I picked up last night.  I mean the bag I brought home last week"

I was in bed at the time so had no idea he'd brought a bag home.

"That's what I went down for" indignantly as if I should know the motive for his every move.

Apparently he'd come in and "dumped it somewhere"

Mistake:  we're not called Chateau Midden for nothing.

I have a system.

In the living room there is a big red box for paper recycling.  

As our local council no longer recycles fabrics, next to the box there is a carrier bag for kit-formed t-shirts (a Ferretfingers speciality), clean but holey underpants, holey socks and other items of clothing beyond use or repair. When that bag is full I carry it up to our local hospice shop for their rag bag.

He discovers this bag is not his bag.

I try and remember the last time I went up to the hospice shop; because if he left his bag next to the red box I may well have shoved a kit-formed t-shirt into it, thought it was full and taken it up.

What colour was the bag?

"Blue"

I try and remember the colour of the last bag I took up to the hospice shop.

"Or it might have been white."

Then

"When was the last time this table was sorted?"

Tuesday when Ferretfingers's enablement officer was due.

"Oh you will tidy things!!"

At this point I give up trying to help and take the boys up to our local polling station to vote in the local elections.

When we get back there is the bag of rapper jackets on an armchair.

The blue or white ordinary carrier bag is actually a green M&S bag and he had found it "down the side of that chair you were sitting on."

So you see he can actually find things when he wants to...