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Linda Howard Urbach Headshot

My Tech Support in Shining Armor

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I am a woman of the certain age and really the last thing I expected at this time of my life was to fall in love with my tech support. First there was Benjamin from Citibank support:

"I have an appointment with my with my accountant today and I can't download my account activity. I've tried everything!" I was frantic. But Benjamin, was so cool, so calm, so very, very patient.

"Don't worry about it. We'll get this fixed. I have all day," he said. Well, as it turns out he didn't have all day. "It looks like it's a Quicken problem," he said after a few minutes. "You need to call Intuit. They should be able to straighten you out."

Intuit sounded like an Indian tribe to me but I was more than willing to do anything Benjamin suggested. He sounded so sure. So manly.

There followed a brief but very tumultuous affair with Jason from Intuit.

"Where are you calling from?" I asked Jason.

"The Philippines," he said. I was right. It was an Indian tribe. Would we be able to sustain a long distance relationship, I wondered? We weren't. It ended badly. I could tell he was frustrated. Was it me or was it the software? I would never know.

I went back and forth over the next few days between other young, earnest-sounding tech
support guys who kept handing me off as "not their problem." To say I felt like a bubble dancer at a bachelor party -- well maybe I'm overstating the case -- but you get the point. I was a woman alone with so many computer glitches I didn't know where to turn. And then a friend asked me if I had AppleCare.

"I think I do. I have Apple everything else," I said. And I called them. And that was when true love walked into my life in the form of Daniel, my AppleCare dream man. I poured out my heart. I told him all my problems. The Quicken problems, the problem with syncing my iPhone and iPad and my iGod-knows-what-else to my computer. I shared with him my greatest fear: that my computer and I were terminally incompatible and that there was no hope other than to go back to Pentel and paper.

"Let's begin by rebooting," Daniel said in a low, soft voice.

"I have to warn you, my computer is really, really slow," I said.

"I have all day. Take your time. I'm not going anywhere until we get this fixed." I had heard this before. But with Daniel I got the feeling he really meant it.

We spent hours together. Wonderful, warm intimate moments while we waited for my computer to reboot. I began to ask him about himself. Is this a full-time job? Where in California are you calling from? How's the weather? What was your major in school? What do you like to do in your spare time? The more I got to know him the more I learned to love him. Finally, everything was fixed and he was about to hang up.

"Daniel, wait! Can I have your direct number?"

"Well, we aren't really supposed to give that out."

"I don't want to talk to anybody else but you. You understand me and my problems."

"We take really good notes and I give you a case number so that the next guy who gets your call will be able to pick up where I left off."

"I don't want the next guy Daniel, I want you."

Don't ask me how, but with a lot of detective work I was finally able to get his direct number. He was sure surprised to hear from me. I immediately got to the question I'd been dying to ask ever since we first met:

"So Dan, tell me, what are you wearing right now?" There was a long pause and then he said:

"I'm going to report you for sexual harassment." And he hung up.

I had to laugh. Sexual harassment! Along with everything else, he has a terrific sense of humor. But the most important thing is that I know he cares. I certainly care. And deep in my heart of hearts, I believe Apple cares as well.