My Pal Bert*

About six months ago someone in my department had some sort of computer problems. Being part of a university, we’re able to call our computer support department and have someone dispatched to our off-campus location.

The gentleman who came out for this problem…we’ll call him Bert…seemed to be lacking in social graces. I get it, my future husband is in IT so I know all about the social ineptitude of the technologically inclined (he’s the exception to the rule). Bert, however, seemed to take this social retardation to a whole new level.

After fixing my colleague’s computer, Bert came out to the waiting room where my desk is situated. I have a countertop about eye level when I’m seated at my desk. Bert unloaded his equipment on the floor, leaned on my countertop, then proceeded to take out his cell phone and have a loud conversation. After a few minutes he made some sort of lame joke which barely registered on my radar. When he repeated it, I realized he was speaking to me while he was put on hold. I gave a weak chuckle and appeared to be very immersed in what was happening on my computer monitor.

Bert did not pick up on the very obvious cues that I was giving. Clearly, I was not interested in forming a lasting friendship with him. Still on the phone he came over to my countertop and leaned on it while taking to someone. I tried my best to ignore him, if for no other reason than that he was on the phone. After hanging up Bert drove his crazy train off the tracks of acceptable social norms. He went "Whew!" and lifted his shirt to wipe the mid-December sweat off his face, exposing his voluptuous stomach and fully-formed man breasts (B cup at least). He didn’t even have the decency to face away from me to do it. I’m sure my face registered my disgust, because he promptly dropped his shirt and left.

Alas, that was not the end of the ballad of Bert.

Last Friday my computer decided to contract a virus which claimed to wipe clean my hard drive. After spending almost an hour on the phone with a perfectly pleasant and competent technician, I was told that an emergency tech would need to be dispatched. I explained that I would be going to lunch shortly and asked if someone could be sent around noon. I was assured that someone would be at my office by 1:00pm and that they would call first.

At 1:45pm I grew bored of sitting at my desk eating Skittles and reading Time magazine, so I called to see what was going on. At about 2:30pm who should waltz back into my life?

Bert.

He spent the next two hours trying to get my computer fixed, while being somewhat appropriate with his interactions. By shortly after 4:00pm my computer appeared to be restored to its original pre-virus glory and Bert bid me adieu. I checked for my important programs (Outlook and Pidgin), found them to be in working order, then left.

Monday morning I came in to find that my computer did not want to allow me to log in. Frustrated, I called the help desk again and was told that someone would be out shortly. How empty my life had been without Bert, so we were reunited once more.

This time, Bert felt more brazen and discussed several topics with me such as the trials of living with his parents and the joys of watching the Disney channel. Despite the "QUIET PLEASE" signs throughout the department and the signs asking people to silence their cell phones, Bert’s cell phone kept blaring forth with a country song. One of of these calls it became apparent that he would not be able to keep a lunch date with a male friend. I was made to feel responsible for his missing lunch, despite the fact that it was obviously due to him not properly fixing my computer in the first place. After an hour of tinkering, Bert declared that he would need to take my computer back to his shop to reimage and try to salvage my documents. He hooked up a PC that belonged to a co-worker before she upgraded switched over to a Mac so I wouldn’t be completely useless in the meantime.

Today, Bert bid me what I hope is his final visit. Showing up unannounced during my lunch break, another secretary had to let me know he was here. I left the lunch room and approached my desk asking if I needed to log off my other computer. "Nope," he declared with an undeserved sense of accomplishment, "I just shut it off…hope you didn’t have anything important running."

While I babysat Bert, he decided that we were close enough bosom buddies to cross line after line of etiquette and tell me that he was sorry he didn’t have my computer back to me yesterday…(okay, fine, don’t worry about it)…because he took a half day…(okay, I don’t care)…because he went to the doctor…(that’s none of my concern)…because he had a fever…(stop)…from a bladder infection…(please stop).

Bert finally finished my computer after fixing yet another error he had made and left. Somehow I don’t believe I’ve seen the last of Bert, although one can hope.

*not his real name