But no big deal. I simply ran down to the local UltraOverLord Computer SuperStore and Coconut Emporium in search of a new keyboard. The search took an extra 40 minutes of wandering the aisles (at one point I managed to tackle an employee, but he thought keyboards came only on accordions).

I eventually realized that I couldn't just buy a keyboard. My computer, a Seppuku 12345, was a notebook.

So I returned home and prepared for a long day devoted to calling tech support. The experience started out, as always, with a recorded message: "Welcome to Seppuku Systems Technical Support. For home desktops, press 1. For home notebooks, press 2. For large corporations actually worth our time, press…"

I pressed 2. "If Windows won't boot, press 1. If you spilled coffee on your keyboard, press 2. If it was tea, press…"

I pressed 3. "Thank you for selecting the 'If you spilled tea over your keyboard' option. Please hold and someone will be with you eventually." After 15 minutes on hold, Seppuku Systems hung up.

Numbers Racket

So I called again. This time I didn't press any keys, but waited through the first round of voice mail 18 times before a human finally picked up the phone. "Seppuku Technical Support. Can I have your stupid number, please?"

"My what?"

"Your STUPID number, sir; your System Transaction Unique Personal ID number."

"I have a 12345," I answered.

"Then the STUPID NUMBER is on the bottom of your notebook," she answered. I flipped over the PC. "What does it say?" she asked.

"'Flipping over your notebook voids your warranty.'"

"Is there also a white tag with the word STUPID and an eleven-digit number?"

"There's half a white tag with the word STUPID."

She thought about this for a minute. "I'm sorry, but we can't help you without a STUPID number."

"Is there any way you can look it up?" I asked.

"Well, it would be listed along with your personal information in our customer database."

"Great! My name is…"

"I'll need your idiotic number," she informed me.

"My what?"

"Your IDIOTIC number, sir. Your IDentification for Independent Online Typical Individual Customer. We can't look you up without it, sir."

I was beginning to panic. "Can I find it on my computer?"

"No."

"How about on my sales receipt?"

"No."

"What about my birth certificate?"

"Unlikely. But it would be on your income tax statement."

"My income tax statement?"

"Yes, only they call it a social security number."

I gave it to her, and she gave me my notebook's STUPID number for future reference. Then she put me on hold to talk to a technician.

Near-Service Experience

Fifteen minutes later, someone else came on the line. "Seppuku Systems Technical Support. What seems to be the problem?" I told him about the tea in my keyboard. "Can't help you," he replied. "Take it to a local certified repair shop."

After half an hour on Seppuku's Web site, I had the name, phone number, and address of my local Seppuku certified repair shop. It was the UltraOverLord Computer SuperStore and Coconut Emporium.

Since the store has a "No phone calls answered or returned" policy, I took the notebook there in person. I eventually found the service desk tucked away in a corner only 3/4 mile from the entrance.

I put my notebook on the desk and explained my problem to the man behind the counter. After I was finished, he nodded knowingly, looked over the Seppuku 12345 with an expert eye, then asked "Would you like to speak to a technician?"

After I explained everything again, the technician nodded knowingly, looked over the Seppuku 12345 with an expert eye, then asked "Do you have Seppuku's Extended Warranty with Special Klutz Coverage?"

I admitted I didn't.

He sighed. "Okay, first of all, I'll have to take apart your notebook to see if the keyboard was made by Anonymous Technologies or the Company With No Name. Either way, I'll have to special order the keyboard from Seppuku. But the Anonymous keyboard costs $294."

I winced. "And the No Name?"

"$438. There's a possibility that the liquid passed the keyboard and damaged the system board. A 12345 system board will run you…" He consulted a terminal by his side. "…$739."

"Are you telling me that repairing my notebook will cost me anywhere from $294 to…$1177."

"Of course not. Figure another $400 to $600 for labor."

This had me a bit concerned. The 12345 was not an expensive notebook. "So the best case scenario is that repairing this computer will cost as much as buying a new one."

"True, but if we're really lucky, it will cost as much as buying two new ones."

"Is there any good reason I should repair it rather than replace it?" I asked.

He looked at the notebook. "Is the data on this hard drive backed up?"

"Well, no…But I've been meaning to do it."

He took out a piece of paper. "Okay, first I'll have to assign you a TOTALLY ASININE AND RIDICULOUS number…"