For the last two weeks I've been spending quite a bit of time with the Geek Squad at Best Buy. For over two weeks I've had to keep returning to the store with my (heavy)computer in my arms, stand in line, and then explain the problem, which had not been resolved by previous visits and repairs, to whichever "Geek' was behind the counter. But that was nothing compared to the anxiety I began to feel at the possibility of their not being able to fix my computer--AKA my lifeblood. What if they couldn't fix it? Would I need to buy a new computer? If so, should I get a MAC instead of a PC? Would all of my data transfer? What about Photoshop-I only have it for PC's and the new format involves a monthly fee to download it from the cloud. Expensive, unknown. And on and on and on, the broken record of my anxiety starting to spin out of control. Finally fixed, the problem turned out to be a virus, which had arrived as a download in the belly of something else--a "Trojan Horse".
A month ago, I was on the phone for 4 1/2 hours with a man from India trying to figure out why we couldn't stream Netflix to our TV. We did many different things, none of which seemed to work. At one point, he informed me that I would have to pay his company $120 in order to get my problem solved. I paid the money, and only as the MasterCard bill came through did I realize that the company I thought I had been talking to wasn't this man's company at all, but one that sounded and looked just like it. At the very bottom of the Internet page that I had gotten the contact number from, in tiny print, was a disclaimer, saying basically, we aren't who you think we might be. After I'd hung up, exhausted and depressed, I sat on the couch, in front of our non-streaming Netflix TV, and cried. Of course, it was another Trojan Horse, pleased with just how far into the protected space of my psyche and my MasterCard it had gotten.