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The successful candidate need not be charming, loyal, funny, warm, considerate or even friendly.
No, I'm merely looking for someone who can fix my computer when it crashes, solve my PVR dilemmas, impart smart phone wisdom, help me edit HD videos, correct router snafus, repair moody laptops and, in general, serve as a personal tech guru.
The wireless printer isn't printing? No problem, I'll call my new friend. The DVD burner won't recognize the coaxial input? I have no idea what this means but my new friend sure will.
The toaster oven now thinks "light" means "scorched"? Honey, unhand those charred bagels and enjoy a bowl of cereal until my new friend restores our toasting equilibrium.
Socializing with my new friend would be limited to emergency Q&A sessions. Our relationship would be predicated upon the shared belief that instruction manuals are increasingly evil – of course I checked to see if batteries were installed! – and tech support is often not very supportive at all.
And that's assuming you can decipher the multilingual booklet that came bundled with your new gadget. You know, the one that's riddled with spelling mistakes and appears to be the work of a team of pictogram-obsessed sadists?
It also assumes you deftly navigated the labyrinthine choices at the other end of a 1-800 line and snagged a real, live human instead of tumbling into a purgatory of voice-prompts as articulated by a mellifluous but insufferable robo-guide:
"At the sound of the beep, please tell me what you are calling about."
"Technical support."
"You want to change your mailing address. Is this correct?"
"Tech-Nic-Al. Sup-Port!"
"You want a ride to the airport. Is this correct?"
"TECHNICAL SUPPORT!"
Sadly, I have failed to expand my inner circle with such an all-knowing geek. But, clearly, I'm not the only one looking for this specialized friendship.
According to a new survey from the Pew Research Center's Internet & American Life Project, 48 per cent of adults who use the Internet or own a cellphone admit they needed "someone else to set up a new device" or "show them how to use it."
What? Does this not mean we are virtually imprisoned by the newfangled products that promise to liberate us? What good is GPS if you're lost inside your own home? Why are we voluntarily becoming so technologically dependent? Why does a computer freeze now make our blood boil?
When Pew researchers asked about "technology failure," 44 per cent said their home Internet connection had failed to work at some point during the past year; 39 per cent reported computer problems; 29 per cent said their cellphones had malfunctioned; 26 per cent encountered setbacks with their personal digital assistants; and 15 per cent said an iPod or other MP3 player required troubleshooting.
It almost makes one long for the days of rabbit ears and land lines.
"Many users find it difficult to set up these devices and frustrating when they break," the survey found.
Frustrating? That's rather polite. I know people who have karate-chopped keyboards and drop-kicked monitors after suffering the trauma of one too many "system error" messages.
But the most disturbing statistic in the Pew survey may be this: 15 per cent of respondents gave up on a seemingly broken product before a solution could be discovered.
I hate sounding like a cranky neo-Luddite. But, really, maybe it's time we unplugged for a while to catch our breath.
Or befriended people who can help navigate this brave new world with less trouble.
