An Ode to Zach Who Fixed My Mac
Twas a dark night, or day, several months ago,
When my MacBook Pro started going slow.
And Classroom Suite, I’m an Intellitools geek,
Would suddenly freeze, and refuse to speak,
I would click and press, the screen stayed still,
And despite my trouble shooting skill,
Nothing would happen, children’s minds would wander,
Where was the computer wonder?
I uninstalled, I reinstalled.
I deleted and updated.
I upgraded to another cat,
If you’re a Mac you know about that.
I checked permissions, and then I did,
The last thing from which I hid.
Although I knew bad news, a risk,
I ran the utility, verify disk.
And then the news that I feared most,
An error found, the hard drive its host.
Alas, alas, no system disc,
My CD drive wonky, and always a risk.
Aha! I know, a place I can go,
Mr. McGonegal, a good guy to know.
“Can I borrow your disc, and give it a try,
I’ve damaged my MacBook, I really might cry!”
So he gives me his disc, and into hiding I go,
I insert it gently, and restart just so.
The computer thinks for a moment, then the grinding is NASTY,
Much like I would imagine a cheap rhinoplasty.
(I totally threw that in for the rhyme)
For reasons unknown, it could only be fate,
I am looking beneath when with one final grate,
The disc slides back out and I catch just a peek,
Of what looks to be paper, then back in it does sneak.
“Oh, no! That’s not good!” I think in a fright.
“Mr. McGonegal will kill me when I tell him my plight.”
“I’ve ruined his disc, I’ve ruined my life,
From this day forward nothing but strife!”
“Take a deep breath, calm down,” I think to myself,
“If all else fails, you can dig into your wealth.”
(Buy a new copy in other words)
I press eject and grab the disc,
But the paper was too brisk.
I hemmed, I hawed, and then once composed,
So carefully with tools in the drive I probed,
But no luck in getting the feisty parasite,
It cleverly stayed hidden out of my site.
What to do, what to do? This has gotten much worse!
This is going to take a large chunk from my purse.
Then a flash of inspiration, not the software, no, no!
To the computer, to Firefox, to Google I go.
“Paper in slot-loading optical drive” I type,
Is there nothing too weird for Google or Skype?
A long story short, there are plenty of tips,
A Post-it retrieved it with a couple quick trips.
A communication symbol, “I want” it said,
Yes, that, Eileen, was what filled you with dread.
“Okay,” you say, “Enough of this marathon,”
“Where is this Zach, let’s get this story moving on.”
Fixing my Mac now is a challenging chore,
But just for fun I’ll try the Apple store.
I’ve not much hope for the Genius Bar,
I’ve only observed them from afar.
For real repairs, you should go pro,
Like Computer Loft, they really know.
I walk up to the concierge, ask for an appointment
“Zach’s available right now,” to my disappointment.
I gently hand this young man my Mac,
My hard drive has been the victim of an attack.
He deftly plugs in an external hard drive,
Runs a diagnostic in less than five.
(Z)“I can fix that, it will take some time,”
(E)“You can do it here, that would be sublime!”
He checks this and that, he gives it some pokes,
We joke and we laugh and make Star Trek jokes.
“Go shop for a while, when you come back we’ll test.”
So out into Burlington Mall I dash feeling blessed.
I have some lovely Chick-fil-a.
Those fries enough to make my day.
I return to see my Mac still thinking,
“about a minute,” and thinking, and thinking.
A Mac minute is a mysterious thing.
Related to time growing and shrinking.
“Don’t Panic” says Zach, “We’re doing fine.”
“42,” I think, but keep it in my mind.
At last its done, my machine reboots.
I cross my fingers, my toes, my undyed roots,
It comes alive, a planet shines,
I put that there; I know it’s mine!
“Let’s check some stuff to make sure it works,
Let’s run that program, the one that jerks.”
I open Suite, I type stuff in,
I watch the deadly rainbow spin.
I collapse and cry, I want to die,
Oh why, oh why, did I even try?
“Relax,” says young Zach, with uber calm.
“It’s the partition break, I have the balm.”
“Go shopping again, I’ll repair the permissions,
Go forth, go forth, on a clothes finding mission.”
So shopping I went, and bought a nice shirt,
Some capris, some socks, but never a skirt.
(all on sale)
I return to see my Mac still thinking,
“About a minute,” and thinking, and thinking.
(yes I copied and pasted)
It’s done thinking, and Zack reboots it,
I open up Suite and prepare for a fit.
I type and it talks,
I click and it walks,
It sings and it dances,
It runs and it prances,
It jumps and it shouts,
It appropriately pouts.
I jump up and down,
I act like a clown.
I bow down before him, to say I’m not worthy,
He looks at me like; I’m a sailor with scurvy.
“Let’s update your software,” he says quietly.
Poor Zach, not quite sure what to do with someone like me.
Have I mentioned before my wireless card?
It only picks up signals with a square yard.
“Oh, that,” I said, “Well it’s rather wonky.”
But leaving it for fixing would make me quite funky.”
“We can do it right here, it will take a Mac minute.”
“I’ll go get some ice cream so I don’t fidget!”
Some chocolate yogurt, some raspberry cream,
Some chocolate sprinkles, oh what a dream.
Then back to the Apple Store to see my friend Zach,
I anxiously await his return from the back.
There he is, there he is, I scream like a girl,
Who is seeing the Beatles, her head all-awhirl.
“Let’s see if it works,” he opens my Mac,
And there are four arcs, just staring me back.
So he writes a receipt, 99 bucks with tax,
No labor, no stress, no big bucks, a few wisecracks.
I pay for my Airport card, walk out with my Mac,
From now on for me, there’s no looking back.
When it comes to my Mac,
There’s only you Zach!