PC Problem

In seeking a replacement for his near-dead computer, James Holman* discovered some truths about life.

I spend a lot of time with computers. I work, rest and play with at least one hand on some form of electronic gadget. So when my once state-of-the-art PC began to take on the personality of a dinosaur, I believed I had enough experience to know what to replace it with.

I began by researching on the Internet. Warning: never type “computer” into a Google search. There are at least 10 major computer brands, each selling a range of PCs, notebooks and accessories. It took me hours to digest the stats, comparisons and the promises of nirvana in a box. Feeling compelled to buy each of them, I felt it necessary to seek advice.

The next day, armed with information like how to colour co-ordinate power couplings and which mouse fitted my hand, I left home in search of PC heaven. The first computer store I entered left me breathless. USB computer lights, flash-drives the shape of Christmas trees, wrist massagers for newcomers to point and click . . .

A smiling salesman attempted to convince me that I should immediately buy the most expensive laptop in the store. “What you want,” he explained, “is a P4 with 800 MHz cache, 512 MB of RAM and 120 GB hard drive . . .” Ugh! I was bewildered as the ever-growing list of acronyms and numbers played havoc with my mental state. Sadly, after a reality check with my credit card, I declined his fevered pitch and walked out, dejected. This procedure continued all day, as I entered and exited numerous computer retailers.
That night, after a day of IT overload, I drove home still ignorant, pondering the thought of extending a couple of years grace before extinction to my dinosaur.

In my reverie, I recalled one less-than-glitzy computer store in my local supermarket plaza—the same place I’d bought my first computer.

The next day, before work, I wandered in to browse. The friendly shop assistant explained that her husband was out for morning tea and would be back shortly. So I sat and waited. So did she. It seemed appropriate and courteous to start a conversation, and before long we were talking about—of all things—computers!

To my surprise, I discovered a fountain of computer-related tips and advice that I had searched for all the previous day—stuff that slick IT salesmen hadn’t bothered to tell or didn’t know. In the 10 minutes it took for her husband to return, I learned enough to make me at least feel like an expert. She emphasised that the most expensive computer wasn’t necessarily the right one for me, and that in most cases, a branded PC caused more complications than the custom-built ones they offered.

I thought about the options for a couple of days. As you can probably guess (and this is how these stories normally end), I purchased the no-glitz custom job from the less-than-glamorous local store—the one that had the right answers and, more importantly, the right attitude.

This simple experience taught me a lesson about life: It’s like my search for the perfect PC. We think we know what we want and rush blindly out into the world grabbing at the first thing that looks plausible. And there are plenty of con-merchants out there who are willing to confuse or persuade the unsuspecting into the wrong decisions. But as with my local computer store, there is hope out there for those who find it hard to decide on what life has to offer.

When the advice is friendly, sincere and offered without any pressure, you can trust it. And similarly, in one’s search for truth, all of the above can be found in one place, and that place is Christ.

*James is the compiler of the Our Times column appearing each month in Signs.