I'm Crashing and I Can't Talk Now...

Next to hurricanes, flood, fire, disease and death, the worst thing that can happen to a Ruby Lane shop owner is a computer crash.

All I could do was stare at my screen as it succumbed to an alien takeover of some dreaded virus. Threatening warnings flashed in red while pop-ups promised to ‘FIX IT’ if only I filled in my private account numbers and paid them.

I was frozen in my chair and did the only thing a tech-challenged person like me could do – I yelled to my husband – 'COME QUICK – I’M CRASHING!’. Good guy that he is, Bob leaped over living room clutter, nearly breaking a hip, to find me blubbering about my impending doom. He tried what he could. He called our anti-virus company, got nothing but a zero in all my files, and finally turned to me, almost cheerful. ‘Guess you’re getting a new computer.’
Men like buying new computers but this gal liked her old one just fine. It had everything I needed. I had trained it from birth and even though it rebelled sometimes and did strange things and moved slower than a sleepy turtle, it was ‘old faithful’ to me. It made it easy to do my business, sell my treasures, research any obscure thing that came up. I could stay in touch with old and new friends and it played Scrabble with me and even let me win once in a while. It welcomed me in the morning and shut its eye with me at night.

Now, I was suddenly a ship without a rudder, a ham without my egg, a yin without its yang. Everywhere I turned in the comfort of my clutter, were things that longed for their debut on Ruby Lane. These were fine things from the best homes, wasting away in a sea of forlorn and neglected antiques and collectibles. I felt helpless. ‘Hang in there’ I mentally whispered to the dust-covered treasures, ‘someone will love you soon – there’s a knick-knack shelf with your name on it and I’ll get you there – if I ever get back on line again’.

Two days later, Bob came home with my new computer. I looked at the big black box with the suspicion of a new wife meeting her husband’s ‘ex’. I still had my old screen and keyboard so at least something was familiar. But when Bob got ‘it’ hooked up, we stared at each other like two boxers before the first round bell. My look said ‘ You win.’.

My cherished contacts were gone. Who would I annoy now with my joke and political cause emails? How would I get my photos? Why did I feel like I’d been abandoned in Siberia without a compass? Where was my Scrabble game?

Bob must have run a marathon, running back and forth between rooms, trying to help me through each roadblock. And every day, I got control of another puzzle piece. And then, I was finally able to list something on Ruby Lane. I could get email and news, garage sale listings and the price of gold. But still no Scrabble.

Being ‘connected’ really means BEING CONNECTED. It means being productive, knowing what’s going on, having a place to goof off. It means my treasures will find their knick-knack shelves. It’s like having a crystal ball that knows almost everything except the future and it’ll even take a guess at that.

My new computer is still a stranger. But we’re trying to make the best of our new electromance.

Rita Brand
Visit: Great Vintage Stuff

User login



About Ruby Lane

Vintage Begins Here: Explore the exciting world of Ruby Lane. Discover thousands of independent shops showcasing quality Antique & Art, Vintage, and Jewelry items from the world's largest curated marketplace.

Follow Me on Pinterest