He looked like a Spanish Hottie from behind. Skinny with a smart kick to voice and walk. I was mentally exhausted from the four hours of phone calls and tears the day before when I realized the only digital copy of my novel was on the iMac with a blinking question mark cursor. Two years of graduate school, hundreds of pages of revisions and critiques. My mentor told me the average writer revises a work at least 18 times; true, true. But the notes, ah the notes. After seeing a film the napkin scribbles I would rush home, type them into the computer in a neat and organized folder that was now dead on the other side of some authentication rule.
I couldn’t talk. So Ducky made it easy. “Just buy this. It will take care of your problems and it’s the least expensive one. But have you heard of mac savers?”
“Yes, when I called yesterday they told me about them. It’s pretty expensive though.”
“Well, how important is your novel to you?”
I shrugged, poker faced. ” I just didn’t want to lose it this way… you know. Setting it on fire would do it more honor than being lost in zero’s and one’s. An artificially intelligent chip as small as a cube of butter. It’s not how it should have gone.”
Ducky was sympathetic. We walked to the register.
“Did you bring it in for our guys to look at?”
“I called to talk to a service person and your front person didn’t like that much. We went a couple rounds. And when I did talk to them, they didn’t want to talk, they just wanted me to bring it in. The last time I did that, they quoted me 600.00 for a cable receptor issue. I had a consultant come in to look at it. He fixed it in 10 minutes and charged me 25.00. So I just wanted to run this by them, you know….first.”
“Oh, I see. May I see your license? You’re hair was redder then.” He said.
“The Duck doesn’t lie. Do you need a hug? I think you need a hug. A hug from Ducky from the Mac store.”
“Oh…really?” I laughed.
“Well, uh…you know I really got that hug vicariously. You have a very forceful hug vibe.”
And then…as usual when put on the spot I say something stupid.
“Well, I know a guy who wrote a novel called Duckworth about a lawyer who made a ton of money because he was so…you know…memorable.”
Ducky gave me his card and a big smile and said ‘call me’ for anything!
Dakota said he would have stomped on my head a few times if I’d named him Ducky. And then even a few more should I ‘date’ a man named Ducky.
PS: I was able to retrieve my novel. A very nice man reminded me of Firewire. Apple was ready to have me erase the drive. When I asked how I could repay his heroic help, he said just let me know when you publish that novel. It sounds interesting. Some people are just ‘gold’ aren’t they?