Editor,

As an artist, my computer is extremely important me. I have a special relationship with the laptop (nicknamed “Baby”) my husband bought me; it’s exactly six months old today. With a special art tracking program and my camera, “Baby” helps me keep track of every piece of work I produce.  Baby knows the size of each painting and the price and location of each piece – whether in the studio or in a gallery. She keeps track of sales, customers and potential clients. Together we maintain my website and return inquiries about commissions, shows and exhibits. I use Baby to print shipping labels; she remembers when each piece was shipped and how much it cost. There are thousands of photographs on her hard drive, which I often reference for ideas or for details when painting or sculpting.

In other words, my computer contains a big part of my life and career. Imagine my horror when I spilled hot tomato soup on her keyboard!  I was so stricken that I can’t remember for sure, but I think my first words (after OH !@$%$#) were “I’m sorry!  I’m so sorry!”

I reached for the phone, dialed 9-1 ….. and caught myself just in time. Instead, I turned off the power, unplugged the cord, turned her upside down over the sink and wiped off what I could – my version of electronic CPR. Then I phoned my husband. He advised me to remove the battery and leave her on her tummy, which I did. I think I may have rubbed her back for a few minutes. It’s still a blur.

Tom went to the store where he purchased our Baby and told them what happened. They assured him that if we had purchased the optional handy-dandy insurance policy at the time of purchase that there was nothing to worry about; just bring her in and they would take care of everything just as they had promised.

Hurray! There were three levels of insurance available and we, not wanting to be cheapskates about our newest addition to the family, opted for not the least expensive, but the upgraded version. This one, the sales person assured us would cover anything that could go wrong.
“Why, if you drop it in a river or if its run over by a truck, we’ll repair or replace it at no charge!”  Yep, that’s the story we fell for.  Big mistake.

The next day, I took Baby back to the big box electronic store where I was told that the insurance policy covered virtually nothing but dust, power surges and moisture (isn’t soup moist?).  They could send it to the factory and if I declined the estimate, which would probably be around $150, I’d have to pay for shipping and handling. This could take a couple of weeks. I explained how important this machine is and was told they could download the information from the undamaged hard drive for a mere $150. I could purchase an external hard drive for about $100. All this was adding up to the cost of a new computer. Yes, I was told, I could buy one exactly like it and they would transfer the information – for $150!

I took her back home and began talking with other artists and friends who have had the same experience.  Many were talked into purchasing a policy like this, only to learn the hard way, as I did, that it’s not worth the black tie it’s bound with.

I’ve tried to phone the store manager but he’s never available. I’ve e-mailed him but he doesn’t return my e-mails. After pressing “1” for English and listening to music for what seems like hours, I’ve spoken to several people at the corporate level. No one is very interested in anything after that initial sale.

Meanwhile, I’ve contacted a local start up computer service and we are being taken care of.  The hard drive was immediately backed up and copied to an external hard drive at no charge. I’m able to write this column tonight because Nick Rendulic’s company has attached a temporary keyboard to Baby until the new one arrives.

So, artists, beware! Back up your work weekly if not daily. Buy your equipment from reputable dealers. Just because a store is big and has locations all over the world, don’t think that automatically makes them honest. I had been hoping to report on a positive outcome to this story, but it seems that it’s not to be.

Jo Watts

Smithville