On the Love of my Life

First off, the title is meant to be ironic. I don't love my work computer, but, given the amount of time we spend together it's not surprising that we've come to an understanding with eachother.

Yes, when I was first introduced to PC, I wasn't impressed. I mean look at it. It's ancient, probably powered by a hamster on a wheel somewhere inside it. Things got steadily worse - I can only imagine that it missed my predecessor and didn't appreciate my typing style...Yesterday I was told I might be getting a new one, and instead of jumping for joy, I was rather upset. You see we now understand eachother. When I come in in the morning, the PC takes a good 10 minutes to power up and outlook to open - this is perfect as it takes me a good 10 minutes to make a strong cup of coffee, chat bollocks with the people who sit around me and text everyone I need to text. By the time I'm finished all of that, PC is ready. I go to lunch at half 12 almost religiously and most days I refuse to eat at my desk. PC likes this - in fact if I'm running late for my usual lunchtime appointment, or I've gone mental and brought food into the office, PC throws a strop - programmes stop working, connections time out, blue screens of death appear. Then, by quarter past one, PC's over that and we've moved on. I've come to the conclusion, therefore, that I'm telepathically linked to this machine. When I'm angry, it gets angry and flashes angry little orange lights. When I'm feeling efficient, it does its best to keep up. When I don't want to be there, it doesn't want me to be there and makes it clear. We have an understanding. More of an understanding than I have with most of my colleagues.

What am I going to do when it's replace by a shiny new one? A shiny, arrogant, too efficient one? Bad times.

RIP PC