Series: Vignettes - #57
Title: Modern Technology
Author: Sassette
Feedback: Can be sent to
pink_overalls@yahoo.com , or posted here.
Spoiler Warning: W/T are way gay, and in love. There – you’re spoiled.
Summary: The wonders – and horrors - of modern technology.
Disclaimer: I didn't create these characters. I’m just borrowing them, because it’s lots and lots of fun.
Rating: PG-13
Author’s Note: This vignette brought to you by
What Would Willow and Tara Do? by dlline,
damnyouautocorrect.com, and the number 8. Also, the keyboard mentioned in this vignette does exist. Also, Also, if you don’t know who Steve Wozniak is, you lose nerd points. I hate to do that to you, but it’s in the rules. You can get your points back by looking him up on Wikipedia.
Modern Technology
By Sassette
“Problem?” Willow asked innocently, looking up from where she was leaning against the wall in her office, reading her email on her phone, trying not to snicker at the poleaxed expression on Matt’s face as the PC Tech sat at her computer to install the new anti-virus and spam-filtering software.
Like she couldn’t do that herself, Willow internally grumbled. But there were >procedures<. Only PC Techs did installs, period.
Matt looked down at her keyboard – her >blank< keyboard – then looked back up at her with an expression that clearly said he had no idea what to do with this.
Willow smiled pleasantly, keeping a gently inquisitive expression on her face, then looked back down when her phone beeped.
T: CarThe one-word text-message from Tara told Willow that Tara was going somewhere. After Willow’s very bad texting-while-driving habit became apparent, they had instituted a rule: they would announce when they were getting in the car, so they wouldn’t receive any text messages from each other while they were driving.
And since Willow only checked her text-messages while she was driving on the off-chance it was Tara, that had solved the problem.
“Here,” Willow relented when she looked back up and saw that Matt’s confusion had morphed into distress.
Poor guy.
She pulled open a drawer of her desk and took out the company-issued keyboard – with letters – that she had replaced with the blank one.
She loved that keyboard. The fact that it was blank was a fun novelty, but what she really loved about it was the clickety-clackety noise of the keys.
And, she loved it because it had been a birthday gift from Tara - after Willow had circled it in a catalog using red ink with five stars and three smiley faces next to it, of course.
With quick, efficient movements, she swapped the keyboards out, moving the blank keyboard out of Matt’s way and handing him the one with letters on it.
“Thank you,” Matt said, letting out a relieved breath and getting to work.
Willow just nodded – she always felt a little bad that she found PC Tech reactions to her blank keyboard funny, and didn’t want to laugh at Matt - and leaned back against the wall, her fingers itching to text Tara to tell her that she was now up to three confounded PC Techs who couldn’t handle her blank keyboard.
It was funny, really, how much her life had changed as an adult. College first, and now here at her Grown-Up Job, she had all the respect and admiration she had so sorely lacked in high school.
She was, undoubtedly, Queen of the Nerds.
“So you actually use that? The blank one?” Matt asked as the install progress bar popped up on her monitor.
“Yup,” Willow said cheerfully. “You do realize they always send the new guy to do my installs because of that, right?”
T: Out of car. At gorilla store. Want anything?Matt let out a bark of laughter, then shook his head. “Oh, man,” he chuckled. “No wonder they were all staring at me and whispering to each other when I got tagged to head over here. Glad it’s not just me.”
“Don’t be surprised if the wallpaper on your desktop has been replaced with a picture of you when you saw it,” Willow said as she typed out her reply to Tara’s text.
W: Where are we gonna’ put a gorilla?“You took a picture?” Matt frowned.
Willow pushed off the wall and reached out to tap her web cam, where the light that indicated the web cam was on glowed. “The network guys – they can remote these, and they think they’re hilarious. But don’t worry about it,” Willow offered a reassuring smile. “You’ll get treated to pictures of the last two guys who did the exact same thing.”
T: Damn you auto-correct.Willow snickered at Tara’s reply, then looked up at Matt with wide eyes. “I’m not laughing at you,” she said quickly, waving her phone. “Text from my wife. Auto-correct,” she said, then shrugged.
She didn’t have to say anything else, and that was another thing that had changed in her adult life. Sure, she went on long rambles sometimes when she was trying to explain something, but she didn’t really have to explain things very often anymore: her coworkers either took her word for it, or they understood what she was saying in the first place because they spoke nerd.
Matt chuckled, then turned back to the install, entering in settings and clicking through to the next progress bar.
T: GROCERY store.“So, iPhone or Droid?” Matt said conversationally, his eyes trained on the slow crawl of the progress bar.
W: No, I don’t need anything from the grocery store. Kinda’ disappointed there will be no gorilla.Willow wrinkled up her nose as she typed. “Old Moto-Q,” she said absently. “I hate touchscreens.”
Steve Jobs may have been a genius visionary who put together a beautiful, elegant electronic consumer product, but Willow was more of a Steve Wozniak kind of girl: she liked gadgets that let her go in and fiddle, not gadgets that assumed she was an idiot and had all the interesting bits locked down.
Matt chuckled. “Wow, that’s old-school,” he said, and he look impressed. “And, yeah, if you type on a blank keyboard, the touchscreen probably slows you down.”
“Exactly,” Willow looked up, and they shared an understanding smile of pure nerdery.
T: Where would we put a Godzilla? :)T: Dammit. GORILLA. :(“Also, I don’t have to deal with auto-correct,” Willow chuckled, giving that last text a fond smile. Tara would type "dammit" into a cell phone and send it as a text message, but she wouldn't >say< it. “My wife has an iPhone, though, so I get all the hilarity and none of the frustration. It’s a minor miracle when one of her texts actually goes through as intended.”
T: Hitting liberty, Magic Box and Galileo after gorilla store.W: What did liberty ever do to you? And I think poor Galileo has been through enough. You can hit the Magic Box, though – I’m sure Anya deserves it. Willow typed back with a chuckle, her phone immediately beeping with another text from Tara.
“She’s not a techie?” Matt asked.
“No, she’s an art-buyer for a gallery downtown,” Willow said, reasonably certain that Tara’s itinerary for the day was library, Magic Box, and gallery.
T: Will be home late – 8ish?Willow’s lips quirked ruefully. And that … was the terrible, awful downside of the life of a Grown-Up. Tara working late, Willow working late, both of them out half the night periodically doing Scooby Stuff.
T: LIBRARY, GALLERYWillow chuckled. Tara always corrected her auto-correct errors with all-caps, and she could almost see Tara pouting.
Really, if it weren’t for Angry Birds, Willow was pretty sure Tara would have tossed her iPhone in a lake by now. Willow still preferred Tetris as her time-killer, on her indestructible old-school Moto-Q with the full qwerty keyboard.
W: 8-ish? :(“That’s cool,” Matt nodded. “My girlfriend writes copy in the marketing department here. That’s how I found out about this job. I just finished up my degree.”
“Information Technology?” Willow asked.
“No, Computer Science,” Matt said.
“Really?” Willow asked, head tilting to the side. A Computer Science degree made him overqualified to be a PC Tech, but it was the standard entry-level position in the IT Department. “Interested in looking at a coding project?”
T: No later than 8. Buying whipper screams.Willow blinked down at her phone.
“Really?” Matt asked, his face lighting up. “That would be so cool!”
“I can’t guarantee we’ll have a developer opening any time soon, and it’ll probably mean extra hours, but it would put you on the short-list if a dev spot opened and your code doesn’t suck,” Willow said as she typed her reply.
W: Okay, I can’t even make a joke about that one. Whipper screams?“My code is awesome!” Matt said, his face shining with enthusiasm. “Thank you so much!”
“I’ll shoot you the specs in an email,” Willow said.
“This is so cool,” Matt breathed. “And … you’re all set – just needs a reboot, but I’ll let you handle that and get out of your hair,” he logged off her computer and stood up. “Thank you so much, Ms. Rosenberg,” he held out a hand.
“It’s Willow,” Willow shook his hand and smiled as he left, practically tripping all over himself.
T: WHIPPED CREAM. BUYING WHIPPED CREAM. HOME BY 8. BE SNAKES WHEN I GET THERE.Willow squeaked as the air left her lungs and her throat closed up at the same time. Her free hand flailed for her door a few times, her eyes glued to that last text message, before she successfully swung it closed.
W: Please tell me “snakes” is auto-correct for “naked”, she typed furiously with her thumbs, happy visions dancing in her head.
T: Dammit NAKED. WTF Snakes!? There will be no skanks!T: SNAKES. NO SNAKES, JUST NAKED WILLOW AND WHIPPED CREAM.W: Baby, you know I’ll be your skank, Willow typed back, grinning widely. Tara's auto-correct issues, excellent evening plans, >and< Tara dropped a "WTF"? This was just ... she giggled. The very, very best day ever.
Breathe, sweetheart, Willow immediately fired off another text.
You know auto-correct messes with you more when you’re upset. I got the message. You, me, whipped cream, 8pm. It’s a date.T: I love you.W: I love you, too.T: I hate auto-correct.T: Remember: 8pm. SNAKES. This is manatee.T: NAKED. MANDATORY.T: I am never attempting the texting of spicy-talk again.W: :(T: See? Auto-correct didn’t mess with that one. It objects to our sex life. It is evil. Butter should slay it.W: Apparently, auto-correct objects to Buffy, too.T: Doesn’t Like Slayer. See? Evil. In car.Willow put her phone down with a chuckle knowing there would be no further texts from Tara until she was at the library, and swapped her keyboard back out, sitting down at her desk and grinning like an idiot.
“My life? Much with the rockage,” Willow said happily, glancing at the clock and frowning for a moment when she saw it was only 3pm. “Well,” she decided, lips pressing together. “I’ll just have to get enough work done so I can come in late tomorrow.”
She wiggled her fingers briefly before she got to it, her fingers flying over the keyboard, code appearing on her screen, the rapid clickety-clackety noise of the keys filling her office.
Willow chuckled to herself. “Snakes,” she mumbled, shaking her head. Really, she was starting to wonder if there was some kind of … mystical/technical energy interference in regards to Tara being a hereditary witch and her constant difficulties with auto-correct.
And, from Tara’s end, today had been particularly difficult so far.
From Willow’s perspective, of course, it had just been hilarious.
Though, Willow mused, her fingers slowing, and then stilling completely – the last time Tara had such a bad day with auto-correct …
Well, there had been scowling, a rare but decidedly hot expression on Tara. And all that frustration and tension to work off, and … forcefulness … she was pretty sure the dent in the wall was still there.
“Bless you, auto-correct,” Willow whispered.