The contact manager I use, Outlook, refuses to open. No matter how many times I click, it pretends to be loading. However, it’s not telling the truth.
The understanding seeps into me akin to a gradual toxin. My whole existence revolves around Outlook. Unlike others who store their lives on phones. A smartphone, coupled with an easy visit to the Apple Store, could resolve this for anyone else. However, dealing with Outlook means wrestling with Microsoft—a company known for being tight-lipped and withdrawn. It’s not possible for me to simply appear at Bill Gates’ doorstep bearing my laptop. (Especially since the previous attempt didn’t go well; I’m definitely avoiding another encounter.) All of my meetings, correspondences, contacts, and crucial information about practically every individual I’ve interacted with over the past quarter-century reside within the confines of Outlook. This data is locked away inside the Outlook PST file—an exclusive domain accessible solely by Outlook itself.
I tap the icon once more. The software remains unhealed. Google acts as an irritating observer, offering advice that proves useless. I test every suggestion, provided they align with practicality. Ever since incorporating AI, Google seems to have gained a vivid imagination. However, this does not prove beneficial.
Restarting Outlook might solve the issue, but "you'll lose all your configurations." That’s worse than losing a kidney for me. (I’m down to just one anyway). In this world, there are aspects I comprehend; such as why nobody started a Ted Cruz Charm School business. Yet, I can’t fathom why not having a handkerchief causes my nose to run. Additionally, I am baffled by the complex web of obscure settings controlling my different email accounts across multiple devices. Even though I created these setups, I doubt—without some form of miraculous help—that I would be able to rebuild them from scratch.
Nevertheless, I exhaust all my alternatives. In desperation, I press the reset button. It doesn’t change anything; nothing at all. Reinstalling Outlook seems like an option, but I would require the numerical activation code. Naturally, this key is stored within Outlook itself.
I might simply purchase the newest edition of Outlook. Actually, though, buying it isn’t an option; you can't get it outright. Instead, one would have to sign up and keep making monthly payments indefinitely. Additionally, this new version doesn’t support Outlook PST files—current user data won't be compatible with it at all. And as for customer service from Microsoft? Well...
Obviously, either my copy of Outlook or its PST file must be corrupted. But I can't keep Outlook from trying to open the file without getting into Outlook. Then, in a stroke of genius that would have occurred to a chimpanzee at least a day earlier, I RENAME THE FILE! I click the Outlook icon for the seventh thousandth time. A message box opens. It's a note from Outlook. It can't find the file. Another box opens and asks if I'd like to use another Outlook file. Yes, I would. I try the backup copy.
When Outlook ACTIVATES! The church bells echo throughout the region. It seems my emails aren’t functioning—presumably, someone foolishly reset Outlook. Yet, filled with joy, I dedicate an entire day to fixing my email settings. Finally, whether by chance or divine assistance, I press “send/receive all folders,” and the cherished green bar verifies every one of my email accounts efficiently.
To prove my brilliance, I dispatch a test email to myself using a different account. However, scrutinizing wonders too meticulously invites celestial disfavor. The message fails to arrive. Next, I attempt sending one via Outlook. This also evaporates without trace and does not appear in the sent items folder. Despite Outlook operating correctly, all inbound and outbound communications seem to be swallowed by some digital abyss, taking with them what little faith remains in an orderly universe.
That's enough! Should anyone require my presence, I will be at Bill Gates' place on his porch.
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