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Monday, May 8, 2006
Battling the virus that ate my computer
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
I’ve had such a difficult time with my computer this month that I feel weary, like an explorer who has just made an arduous trek through a dense jungle in uncharted territory.
It started when my hard drive crashed. I was in Jacksonville that weekend. I came home, went to catch up on e-mail, and the computer was turned off. It’s never off. My first thought was that there had been a power surge (that happens in my condo when a dust mite sneezes), and that the computer just hiccupped.
I pushed the power button. The computer’s reaction resembled that of a cartoon character that had just been run over by a train. It sat up, looked around wildly, saying, “Where’d they go?! Where’d they go?!” Then, with a gargantuan gasp… THUD. It was dead.
I called my buddy Kevin. He’s a lawyer by trade, but he’s also schooled and certified in computer service and repair. I mostly resist technology; I almost have a phobia about it. Kevin says I am the only man in North America who doesn’t have a cell phone, and he may be right.
Kevin and I (well - Kevin) built this computer about two years ago, so I turned it back over to the creator to be healed. Of course, he had a brand new 160 gigabyte hard drive lying around in his basement (doesn’t everybody?). And, of course he was able to pull a lot of files from my old hard drive. However, I lost a lot of programs.
Kevin explained to me what happened and why it happened with the matter-of-fact delivery of a neurosurgeon. I will spare you the painful details, good reader, and sum it up by saying it “got fried.” He took the software CDs that I had and loaded them onto the new hard drive. Windows XP. No problem. Antivirus. No problem. Drivers. No problem. Stuff from the old hard drive. Turned the computer on, and I heard the whirring and beeps with which I am now so familiar, my mad scientist voice saying, “It’s alive! ALIVE!”
I had a Barney Fife-like smugness, like he gets when a problem is resolved and life in Mayberry goes on, even though Andy did all the work. I had gone from panic to despair to confidence, and I was feeling pretty good about myself. Though Kevin was the healer of record, he taught me enough about what he was doing that I felt like a trusted colleague and consultant. I went back home and plugged in my computer. My games were accessible, I was again connected to the information superhighway, and life was good.
Two weeks later I was playing gin on the Internet with this guy from England, and my antivirus software started scanning my email. But my email program wasn’t open. Wait a minute…I was SENDING email. One, two, three, four…17 emails it was scanning at one time. My computer began to groan under the strain of running so many functions, and my gut wrenched as I was hurled back into reality: I had a virus.
A Trojan program, to be exact. My antivirus software popped up a message identifying the intruder. Didn’t stop it, but it knew what it was. No problem, I thought. I’ll get an update, run a scan, remove the program. Such was my confidence and smugness regarding my newfound computer knowledge. I smirked arrogantly as I watched my antivirus program identify, quarantine and delete the invader. Reboot the computer, and….
It was still there.
I did a search at the antivirus software’s Website. AbWiz.F was the name of the virus. They knew of it. This virus embeds itself deep in the computer, and it tricks the antivirus software into thinking that it can get rid of the virus. So when everything is removed, the virus sees that it’s all clear, and it makes 50 more copies of itself. Insidious. The Website has a patch for this and that makes the playing field level.
I had to restart my computer in Safe Mode and execute the program. Safe Mode? What’s that? Oh, yeah! The TV commercial with the kid and the two cops. Press the F8 key during boot-up and enter Safe Mode. Got it!
I was so proud of myself. HAH! I understood! This technology stuff isn’t so bad after all. I did as I was instructed, ran the patch, and the virus was gone. I am a computer guru!
Two days later I was on a sports Website reading some NFL draft hype, and this message popped on the bottom of my computer: “Your firewall has been disabled. Click here to enable your firewall.” Without a second thought, I robotically moved my mouse, clicked and continued reading.
It was like walking into a swarm of mosquitoes. Pop-ups flashed across my screen like fireworks. I was directed to an adult Website, then another, and another. I turned off my cable modem, cleared my screen. Ran my virus scan. Ran my patch. Everything was gone.
But it wasn’t gone. In fact, it’s still there. Now, I am only able to get to one Website on my home computer.
Interestingly enough, the Website sells anti-spyware software. This virus has taken over my computer to direct me to a Website to by anti-spyware software.
Oh, the irony…
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Should I have paid for chocolate cream pie?
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
One recent beautiful Saturday afternoon after a day filled with chores, errands and shopping, I treated myself to dinner at a local cafeteria-style restaurant.
Moving through the line, I made minor culinary decisions about whether I felt like a green leaf or fruit salad; whether I wanted carved roast beef or baked chicken; and whether mashed potatoes or macaroni and cheese would delight my palate.
Finally, I got to the dessert portion of the line and, after salivating over the array of cakes, pies and puddings for what seemed like a pleasant eternity in a sugar factory — I chose a piece of chocolate cream pie.
I had no idea that choosing a dessert would engage me in a minor moral dilemma.
At the end of the line, a person issues a guest check, but you do not actually pay for your meal until you are ready to leave the restaurant. The woman who gave me mine was not particularly friendly and she barely made eye contact.
I did not think much about it, except that maybe she was tired or had limited English skills that might make her hesitant even to engage in the smallest of small talk. The woman gave me a weak cursory smile and handed me my guest check.
When I got to the table, I noticed that she had not charged me for the pie.
I thought for a nanosecond: She wasn’t really friendly so I should keep the pie without paying — as compensation for weak customer service.
But that thought quickly faded: Even if no else knew or cared that I could get away without paying for the pie, I knew—and that was sufficient for me.
I summoned the woman who clears the trays in the dining area and pointed out the error. She never said a word, but took my guest check from me and had the pie added to my bill.
Then, while waiting in line to pay, an older woman in front of me explained to the cashier that she had not been charged for her beverage.
The cashier, unlike the lady who cleared the trays away in the dining room, made a really big deal about this woman’s honesty and rewarded her by not charging her for the beverage. Then she asked the manager if she could give this honest soul a gift check for a free meal on her next visit. This customer almost floated out of the restaurant on a cloud of righteousness.
The cashier, manager, and the other honest customer did not know that I too had an item omitted from my guest check. I never even had the urge to mention to them that I had asked for my bill to be adjusted to reflect the price of the pie. I was satisfied with knowing that I had not sold out my values for $2.79.
Would I have been a ‘bad’ person if I had eaten the pie without paying? Is there any price that makes it worthwhile to sell out your morals?
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