Computer Complications

Written for a
NEW PROMPT: Since I was delayed due to computer issues, y'all get to make lemonade out of the lemon I got handed. Write a story or poem about being late for something important because your computer refused to cooperate.

683 words.

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Jack Alfonso Westbrook the Third was a successful business man climbing up the corporate ladder. He had an office with an actual door, complete with high-speed internet connection, an advanced shredder, and a chair that wasn't too small.

It was a luxury office, that is, if your high-speed computer and advanced shredder cooperated with you.

It started out like a good day. The intern didn't accidentally put salt in the coffee pot, and Jack had a meeting with the vice-president of ACME Corporations. He strolled down the hallway cheerfully and opened the door to his office, in a bit of a hurry. His car had been stubborn this morning, and he had to finish something for The Meeting.

Adjusting his glasses, he shook his mouse impatiently and opened his word processor. "File... file..." he muttered, double-clicking the file name. He scrolled down, searching for the spot that needed serious work, when the PC began to bleep.

"What the...?" Jack reached to turn the volume down... something, when the screen went gray and then black. "No!" howled Jack, because right before it crashed he saw it delete the whole document. "NO!" he repeated, jamming a key.

He rebooted and took a look. "Oh..." he sighed. The document was still there. Which was good, because it had to be ready in...

TEN MINUTES?

When did time fly so fast? he thought irritably as he scrolled through the report again. Hey, what was that? He didn't write THAT!

Jack could almost swear the shredder winked at him. His computer had scrambled the words and letters around so it was a report on the Incan monkey economy.

Not good...

"RESTORE!" squeaked Jack, glaring at his computer. He got as far as "File... edit" when the computer bleeped again. "Not this again," he groaned.

This time he got up from his chair and went around to find what the problem was. He leaned over the shredder and felt his tie fall into the slot. Which normally would be okay, because the shredder was off.

Whirrrrrrr....

Jack snapped his head up, swearing, and looked down. The bottom half of his tie was completely shredded.

BLEEP!

The computer was blinking red, and he dove for it, but it was too late. It crashed.

"DON'T!" he begged it, nearly falling to his knees. He looked at the clock, which ticked and cheerfully told him he was ten minutes late to his meeting.

Jack nearly burst into tears, but he gathered his manuscript and marched to the vice-president's office.

Better make a copy, he thought as he passed the copy machine. He fed the papers in and waited,

And waited, and waited, and waited and waited.

"Come ON!" grumbled Jack, waving his arm. It knocked down a mug of coffee on the table and  soaked his white shirt. "It's not even fair," he said, looking at the ceiling and feeling the hot coffee drip off his shirt.

"Jack?" the vice-president's voice called out. "Is that you?"

Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside the office. "I can explain," Jack cut in quickly. "See, my computer crashed, and then my shredder decided to turn on when I leaned over it while trying to fix my computer, and then the copier was slow and a mug of coffee--"

Frank Graham skimmed over Jack's manuscript, the one about the Incan monkey economy. "I... think we have enough to go on here," he finally said carefully. He turned. "Jack..."

A deep breath. "I think your talents would be better suited elsewhere."

"You're... firing me?" Jack felt his tie droop, too.

Frank laughed. "No, I'm promoting you."