My husband is a geek. As such, he is a gamer. Diablo was a game he played when he and I first started dating, fifteen years ago. When I was pregnant with Matthew, his obsession was Diablo 2. That was ten years ago. After years and years of pushed back release dates, the unthinkable happened.
Diablo 3 was finally released.
I knew he wanted this game. Desperately. He was willing to bust his butt working around the house to convince me it was a good idea to buy the grossly overpriced game. Little did he know that I had actually pre ordered it and already had it in my possession.
This weekend, between gunky pink eyed babies and multiple projects we had going on around the house, I pulled out the game. By the look on his face, you would swear he heard angels singing as he drooled over the thought of his soon to be demon slaying. It was equally adorable and pathetic at the same time.
When he finally sat down to play his coveted holy grail of video games, a problem arose.
His authentication code did not work.
For those who may not be familiar with PC games, once they are installed on the computer, they require an authentication code to access. This is an anti pirating measure that is easily worked around by the true pirates. But this game was not pirated, and there was no reason for it not to work.
Of course, all of this happened after hours for tech support. Abe’s late night demon slaying had to be put on hold. He was sad. Very, very sad. He came to bed where I was watching tv, and literally every commercial break had an ad for Diablo 3. Each time it came on, his whimper was just a bit sadder than the last.
Today, after a total of two hours spent on hold and never getting to talk to anyone about his problem, I decided that I needed to try and enter his authentication code for him. I just had it in my head that I had the magical power to enter it correctly and make it better.
Abe scoffed at this. He told me he entered the code 20-30 times. He had a support ticket out on his problem, he was ready to try and return the game and exchange it for a new one. I convinced him to let me try entering the code.
I was right. I am magically awesome. Also, I know the difference between an “8” and a “B”. You see, in all of his excitement to play his new game, he saw an “8” where actually it was a “B”. And that is all it took to break his heart. One tiny typo, repeated 20-30 times.
He gasped with disbelief when I told him I got the code to work. He was not convinced that he was entering the code wrong until I made him read it out loud with me.
He begged me not to share this story. You see, he is an IT professional and helps people troubleshoot these kinds of problems all the time. He is regularly making fun of the idiots that call and can not access this or that, all because they are mistaking one letter or number for another letter or number.
I told him my hands were tied. I had to share this story for the greater good. Well, I had to share it because it was too damn funny not to. There is greater good in that, isn’t there?
I am happy to report that I am being completely ignored right now as he is sitting blissfully at his computer, playing the hell up out of some Diablo 3.
See? A happy ending to the story. I love my geek.