Tall, Dark, and Mysterious


Apparently problem solving isn’t my forte

File under: Meta-Meta, Know Thyself. Posted by Moebius Stripper at 5:23 pm.

Last weekend, I took my new laptop to Vancouver, and when the two of us returned to Island Town, the sound system didn’t work. At all: I couldn’t play CDs, I couldn’t use headphones, I couldn’t get any audio on streaming videos. And this is a new computer! After several iterations of the Universal Computer Troubleshooting Procedure (shut down computer; turn it back on), I consulted the control panel for assistance. One of the questions in the help file was, “Have you checked ‘mute’ on the volume control?”

“No, you idiot,” I answered aloud to an empty room, “What do you think I am, stupid?”

Nothing worked, and after three days of computer silence, I got ready to phone the long-distance help line, when I noticed a little dial on the side of the laptop.

It was the volume dial, and it was set to minimum.

This is my excuse for not having posted anything for the last couple of days: it was out of a justified fear that the resulting entries would have been commensurate with the intellectual capacity that left me unable to turn up the volume on my computer for three straight days.

However, I do have a big post (which may turn into two or three smaller ones) about IQ, achievement, and socialization in the wings. With a graph and everything.


  1. Done that, several times, until eventually I started checking the volume before I even turned the thing on.
    I blame the people who put the volume controls on laptops in such stupid places. I can’t recall EVER seeing one that wasn’t somewhere on the outside, where putting it in a bag would turn it without the user noticing. How hard is it to put it somewhere it will be covered by a closed lid, or put a sliding cover over it (not uncommon for power switches, but they’re usually harder to accidently activate anyways), or something of the sort?

    - dave — 1/27/2005 @ 11:42 pm

  2. Hey - yesterday I spent 5 minutes rifling through my bag when I got to work — no ID. I figured Maureen had pulled it out the night before, and I didn’t catch her. I had to wait on my floor until someone else showed up to let me in.

    When I got to my cubicle, my ID was sitting on the middle of my desk. Good thing I hadn’t set any of my crap on top of it, otherwise I would have had Stu go looking for the ID in the apartment. And that would have been a fun time for all.

    - meep — 1/28/2005 @ 3:18 am

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