Off The Cuff: A wry look at life

After pounding on a Remington for a couple of months like a surly government department clerk, I decided to go high-tech and buy a personal computer.

An American colleague who was leaving, said he would sell me his, cheap. There was only one slight problem, he said. The fan in the monitor wasn't working, so he had rigged up an external one.

Smug in my knowledge of computers, gleaned from a 24-page booklet in large type-face, with pictures of secretaries sitting in front of clunky IBMs and with hair styles of the 1940s, I said: "I only need it for word-processing."

My colleague brought over my computer in a couple of brown boxes and said, " Read the booklet, it's easy to set-up," and left for the airport. I spent the larger part of the day setting up the computer, cursing at all the various cords and the single plug point which was way across the room.

Grunting, I moved the huge table and finally got everything right. But now the desk faced the only door to the office and since the monitor sat on the CPU box, the only thing people saw when they entered was this machine, a jumble of cords snaking across the room and a box of Tide detergent from which went up a roll of perforated paper to the printer.

"Where were you all day"? asked one of my contacts in an exasperated voice over the phone. "I came twice to the office and you were not there."

Apparently he had not come in and peeked over the monitor or he would have seen me hunting and pecking press releases.

There was also a bathroom exhaust fan in one of the boxes and I had puzzled over it for a while and dumped it in a corner. I called the head office and explained how my computer would make me more productive. Someone said they would dock my salary if I lost the typewriter.

A couple of days later, the press counsellor of the American embassy came over to the office, hearing that I was the new hack in town. We chatted for a while, and he asked, "How's it like working here. I mean, compared to back in your home country"?

I gave him the usual spiel about how lucky I was to be here in these interesting and exciting times and how I get to see the fast-paced changes taking place in all aspects of the society. "Plus, I get to use the latest technology in my field," I said, pointing to my prized possession on the desk in front of us.

At precisely that moment, the words on the screen very slowly elongated, like the opening credits of a horror movie. Then the sentences did a swing-step to the right and then lazily went all the way to the left of the monitor screen.

It was like watching Disney's animation of drunken, pink elephants doing a dance. Then suddenly, all the words scrambled and converged into one tiny, bright, white spot, and with a tinny ping, vanished, leaving a blank, dark screen.

American diplomacy in the Middle East may not be so hot, but you got to hand it to Washington's diplomats. There was not a flicker of a smile on his face. But the conversation ended quickly after that.

"The monitor's heating up," said my friend. So I industrial-taped the bathroom exhaust fan on the top and since it had a blade missing, there was a knocking sound at every revolution.

"I see one time, plastic hat with small fan inside. To keep brain cool. Same principle," said the Taiwanese press counsellor when he came visiting. "Riyadh very hot, yes?"

I am now trawling shops on the computer street for a refurbished laptop. I am a technology-freak and like to keep up with the times.