Thank You, ThinkPad

I work in a high throughput screening lab for the National Chemical Genomics Center, a branch of NIH. One day I'll explain what that means, but right now the only thing you need to know is that my job involves some bench work and some data analysis (aka, computer work). Because of the latter, upon starting my job my supervisor was kind enough to give me his laptop (since then, I have discovered that it was perhaps less a "kindness" and more an act of vindictiveness. I missed the maniacal laughter). Since he primarily uses his desktop this wasn't a problem for him, and I didn't have to jump through eighty bureaucratic loops and wait three weeks to get a functioning computer. I was pretty happy.

It took me a while to realize the extent of my predicament. This is partly because my first six months here were really heavy on the bench work, less on the data analysis. I spent most of my eight hours a day setting up and running experiments. I also worked primarily with an instrument in a separate part of the lab that has its own computer, which also happened to be right next to my work, so I tended to use that computer when I needed to read webcomics and check my e-mail.

Thus it has been a fairly recent discovery that my laptop is a piece of virus-infected crap. What with finishing several projects in the past few months, I have had a ton of data to sift through on my computer. Not to mention, I am currently working on a couple presentations/papers, and looking up lots of journal articles for information on some of our newer projects, all of which require programs like powerpoint, excel, and firefox. I have become veritably attached to my laptop, and incredibly dependent on it's fragile workings.

I first discovered my laptop's large potential for fail when I saved some data off my computer to a new flash drive, then brought it to one of our data analysts to upload to the shared database. Upon attaching the flash drive to his computer, a giant warning of imminent danger popped up in various bold red fonts, clearly indicating that under no circumstances should anything on that flash drive go anywhere near functioning computing equipment. I think the specific recommendation was to eject it immediately and incinerate it in a sealed container, then launch it into the farthest possible reaches of space.

"You should probably submit a ticket to get your computer checked out," the data analyst said. He looked concerned, and promptly handed my flash drive back.

I told my supervisor, and we submitted a ticket so that some computer person could hopefully come sort out this mess, install an antiviral and get my IBM ThinkPad in functioning order. Honestly I had started to have my doubts about my little laptop even before this incident, but I convinced myself that I've just been spoiled by my macbook, and this is how PCs do their thing. Maybe it takes twenty minutes to start up because it really wants to teach me the value of patience. Maybe it has really important things to do. Who knows?

Anyway, I submitted my ticket two months ago. I have yet to see anyone come near my computer, and I can't really blame them. I know next to nothing about computers, but I assume that when it runs slower than traffic on the beltway, something must be wrong. However, I have done my best to be patient, to understand that my ThinkPad is probably suffering a great deal, beset by myriad viruses and who knows what other computational diseases. I've gotten used to not asking it to do complicated things, like right click, or run two programs at once. I'm now in the habit of stopping working around 4:45 so I can log out and leave by 5:10.

(Okay, so, I admit I have thus far avoided one of my largest problems. On occasion, when I am taking a brief break and perhaps entertaining myself by reading a webcomic or two, my boss has a habit of sidling up behind me to discuss something or other. Unfortunately, due to my ThinkPad's specialness, I can't quickly minimize the screen or bring that excel file to the forefront. Instead, my computer screen delays several very long moments behind my frantic clicking, and my boss' gaze turns confusedly towards the perhaps inappropriate punchline of today's SMBC or xkcd, while I try desperately to keep his eyes averted from the screen. Thankfully, he has yet to chastise me in these moments of unproductivity, but I'm not about to push my luck. I have resorted to keeping my computer screen dim and the firefox window small).

Despite my many adaptations to working with my ThinkPad, lately my frayed patience has worn to the breaking point. When it takes several minutes to load a saved powerpoint, or transfer one excel file, or send an e-mail, or load a webpage, that all adds up. And I end up at 11, after arriving at work at 9, having done close to nothing, while the data lies, tantalizing, just beyond my reach in the depths of the shared drive.

So today I asked my boy (he knows all about the computers) what I might do. He told me to check out the system properties in the control panel to see what we're working with. That was when I discovered the sad truth. My little IMB ThinkPad is handicapped. It is handicapped with a single processor, 1.5GB of RAM, Windows XP from 2002, and old age. At six years old, my ThinkPad has the computational equivalent of Alzheimer's. When I told my boy these stats (which meant fairly little to me), it was difficult to distinguish if he might be crying or laughing. He did say (in direct response to my comments) that he wanted to take a shower.

It is thus that I have arrived at a zen viewpoint of sorts when it comes to my laptop. I have tried focusing on the things it can do, instead of it's shortcomings, and made peace with its limited abilities.

So after all that ranting, what I really want to say is thank you, IBM ThinkPad, for your service. I am sure you are trying your very best to complete the many complicated tasks I ask of you on a daily basis. I greatly appreciate the level of complexity required to open a whole program and run it, as well as your efforts trying to balance doing this not just for one, but sometimes for two whole programs at once. Thank you for providing me the opportunity to practice my typing, since I often get to rewrite things lost. Thank you for allowing me to look out the window for long minutes while you log in and log out. Thank you for the extra time to read my book while waiting for data to load.

Finally, thank you for teaching me patience, and thank apple for giving us macs.

Edit: As of this morning, my computer is humming. Not in a happy go lucky way, but in a high pitched screeching way. I feel somewhat guilty, as if my poor ThinkPad is keening in pain and misery that I somehow caused through neglect...