Hello all,

My topic may seem tame to those of you who got to go out and test-drive all sorts of fun and fancy vehicles, but due to circumstances involving my younger sister and a smashing hall party, I no longer have a driver's license. I sorely regret not having the opportunity to dress up rich and try to take out a Porsche or something shiny and leathery-smelling, because - contrary to some opinions - some girls do like to drive fast. Regardless of my disappointment at missing out on a social/literal thrill ride, I will get to the point by prefacing my experience of "buying a laptop" with some background information you may or may not choose to mock me for.

Nearly everything to do with computers stresses me out. I was going to say nearly everything to do with technology, but I'm working on being less dramatic. I even started with nearly, not everything - progress already. I can handle simple functions, such as Word, (not 2007- oh, the devastation) and checking my e-mail, but that is the limit of my suspicious, hesitant relationship with the computer. Please keep this in mind throughout the piece; it may add new elements of humour and pathos.

I rode my bike to the downtown Futureshop at about 830 Thursday night. (I was being uncharacteristically proactive, my procrastinating instinct combined with dread normally would have staved off this assignment until Monday night, or possibly even late Tuesday afternoon). I locked up to a rail near the back of the store, and, feeling quite proud of myself for attacking this assignment so early on in the week, strutted through the automatic doors. The ceilings were higher than expected, and I felt a sudden rush of vertigo, brought on I suppose, by my eyes adjusting to the glare of fluorescent lights and the flicking and flashing of so many electronic screens and signals.

It really was dizzying, thrown at you all at once like that.

I made my way to the far right quarter of the store, and stood directly under a huge red sign promising: COMPUTERS & ACCESSORIES. I thrust my hands into my pockets and looked around helplessly - honest and effective - and before a minute had passed, I was approached by two eager-to-please stereotypical salesmen, both with out-thrust name tags pinned to their chests, one announcing STEVE, and the other STEPHEN.

Salesman #1: "What can I help you find today?" with a winning smile.

Salesman #2: "What can I do for you?" sidestepping around the first.

These two opening greetings ricocheted off each other in a confusion of anticipation. I put on my best 'overwhelmed' face and smiled apologetically.

"Well, I don't really know. I guess I'm just looking for a basic laptop..."

I immediately felt guilty. They looked like my younger sister back when she still worshipped me, before the hall-party days, so eager to please, so willing to do anything. So I indulged a spontaneous rush of good intention - mercifully crushing them before they had a chance to build up hopes of a big sale.

"Which is the cheapest one you have? Oh - and I won't be buying it today."

Their enthusiasm predictably waned, and the rest of the pitch was unremarkable. I was shown a few basic models and recited features I couldn't understand. I shook the salesman's hand goodbye, and thank you, squeezing harder than necessary to have him look me in the eye again. This was Salesman #2, as Salesman #1 had wandered off some time ago. I navigated my way out of the store, pausing only to shake my head in disgust at a sign that read something like: If you've been in Futureshop for more than 6 hours, alert the police you're not missing! I'll never understand it, and so, as people have a habit of doing, I pretend I am above it.

I left the glare and the hum of machines behind me with a shrug of relief, and happily sucked in the cold night air as I walked around the store to my bike. My bike... that was now only a cut cable lock, twisted up as if nursing it's severed, splayed guts. My own guts squirmed as I stared at where my bike had been about 30 minutes ago. I took about 10 minutes to pass through the 5(?) stages of grief, lingering a bit long on anger, before starting the 19 block walk home, fuming the whole way. A sufferer of a mild strain of agoraphobia, buses have always been a last resort for me, so the loss of my bike was a devastating thing. I did however, discover that I walk faster mad.

Still (somehow) in my proactive mind frame, I decided to stop by Compusmart on the way home to check their hours, as I was supposed to compare/contrast two stores. Compusmart had closed down. I stood outside the doors and felt a twinge of satisfaction. It certainly wasn't compensation for my bike, but I wasn't going to another computer store, and maybe - just maybe- I thought, they would put in something useful, instead. Something like a used bookstore, or a hookah bar, something I can understand, something I can relate to, something I can see has a purpose that's good, a purpose that is nothing near light pollution or computer-glow headaches, stolen bikes, or a name-tag that says: STEVE.