Wired on Friday: For many years, I have watched physicians get assailed at dinner parties. Crowds, briefly shameless, expose bruises, welts and oddly-rotating shoulders to the good doctor in lieu of normal conversation, and in the hope of a free and friendly diagnosis. I've done it myself. For most of us, it's more calming and rewarding than visiting our own medical practitioner. But it's not much of a party for the off-duty doctor.
These days, I've tasted my own doctor-prescribed medicine. Now it's those of us who are known too well as computer geeks who pay the price at social gatherings.
And Christmas is the worst: computer viruses and new hardware, a cumulative year of problems, saved up for family parties. Amongst geeks, 'tis the season to be tech support.
There's a business model here fighting to get out. In the United States, that model is exploited by the Geek Squad, a cheery 24-hour computer tech support "task force" with a distinctive orange logo, matching uniforms, and customised "geekmobile" VW Beetles. Geek Squad started out in Minneapolis in 1994, and quickly displaced the artisan computer repairmen who usually advertise in the local classifieds. By 2002, the company had spread to most of the US urban areas.
The company was then bought out by high street electronics retailers Best Buy.
Now the Geek Squad gets saturation TV and radio play, and a corner of every one of the Best Buy stores is decked out in orange, with queues of forlorn customers waving busted hard-drives and chequebooks. Last month, computer manufacturer Dell took the hint, and begun offering its home customers an installation and support service.
But even for the high disposable incomes of the US, the Geek Squad support prices are steep. Over $100 ( for an in-store virus check and de-festation. House calls costs over $300, before software or parts. Those prices are comparable to a plumber's or an electrician's bill - however, the cost of the technology these fixers work upon is always dropping. That means that a $200 charge to repair a wireless network, say, is going to look increasingly disproportionate when the equipment costs $40.
The trouble is that we are all reticent to pay for high upfront price tags, and all of us choose to stay ignorant of greater hidden costs. Computers and software are partly so cheap because computer and code makers have no liability for problems that occur later. Microsoft works hard to prevent their computers from breaking and becoming infiltrated with viruses and pop-up ad wielding clutter. But those problems exist because Microsoft originally had no incentive to ensure they did not happen.
Similarly, we get our PCs cheap because they are composed of a Frankenstein motley of commodity parts - a mix of video cards, RAM, motherboards and drives from different manufacturers, all working to near cost in hypercompetitive markets.
These spare parts can be connected together in a near infinite number of permutations. When matters go awry on a computer, it is usually because the interconnection between these parts has led to an unforeseen (and broken) combination. Now add to that the endless tinctures and cocktails that can be brewed when you install multiple pieces of software on the same PC. It's more of a surprise that modern computers work at all.
It is the fate of the Microsofts and Dells of the world that they will get the blame for all of these misconfigurations. Their defence is fair - they have no control over the software you install, and the cowboy hardware that is added to their machines. We bought it cheap, and now we pay the price.
Or, rather, the family geeks do. Usually the only way to repair a computer disaster is by careful disassembly and reassembly, picking through a machine to identify what its component parts are, then probing them to see whether they still work, and how they are interfering with all the other elements of the mongrel machine.
The comparison with a physician is far closer than that of a normal repairman. A car mechanic at least has a template of what a Ford Focus should be. Computer fixers must prod and probe before they can come to any idea of how to proceed.
Such detailed examination of computers is part of the fun of being a geek: every deconstructed machine is an opportunity to learn. But it takes its time, and, when nothing works, it takes its toll.
A broken computer can take an evening, and many more to fix, and it's hard to know, whether the patient will recover. Many a family geek has happily agreed to "have a look" at a PC, only to disappear for many hours of anguish. It's satisfying when at the end they can emerge with a smile on their face; but more often they'll stalk out, apologising for their limits, and muttering curses at some manufacturer under their breath.
The Geek Squad may be a predictor of the future, when we have a truly on-call team of well-paid family doctors - or, at least, vets - for our most complex technology. Or, when computer equipment prices vanish into the noise of the sub-$100 PC, perhaps we'll finally concede to spend a little extra for a machine that will, someday, hold priceless amounts of their personal memories and business.
But until that happens, we'll all need to depend on the free assistance of the family geek. And this Christmas, all I'll say is, do thank them sincerely whether they fix your problem or not. And, for the season's sake, pour them a drink while they do it. They'll need it.
