It all started with the PlayStation. Oh, how I loved this damn machine! It's like nothing else mattered. All I wanted to hear when I came from school was "chicken"; signifying that I had picked up a familiar item in a mysterious location as I played (very badly) Tekken 3. I would often play with the neighbor kids as soon as we were finished our homework. I enjoyed the challenge of pressing buttons that I didn't know the function of. Mashing widely until K.O appeared on the screen. Even until my friend was red-faced and rage quit. Good times, until the game paused midway.
Seemingly out of nowhere, the game would stop and laugh at our inability to continue. This single moment is where I had my "Oh Hell Naw!" moment. I was determined to get that game working. My reputation as Tekken King was at stake. I had kids owing me lunch over these games, and tomorrow was a favorite, potato bread PB&J with apple jelly! I wasn't about to let this slide. At that moment, I had to make sure I showed no weakness as my friends gasped in amazement as I moved towards the console. With false confidence, I walked.
My first instinct was to jiggle the video cords attached to the console. No dice. Next the video cord connection to the TV. Nope. Then the game cartridge. Nothing. As the pressure started to mount, I decided that it was best to call the round a draw and start over, seeing as we had been so rudely interrupted. I moved the power switch to the off position almost in slow motion. I had never done this before and wasn't too sure of the outcome. My mother would always cut it on and have the controllers and TV ready to go (thanks, mom), so this was unfamiliar territory. *Click* *Click* I remember seeing and hearing those wonderful chimes that signaled the new beginnings of a good game, and some good ol' braggin' rights. The text became distorted along with the audio. Darn. That didn't work. How about if I unplug everything?
I proceeded to unplug everything that looked like it was externally attached. When I finally got it upside down, something told me to examine it carefully. Then I discovered it. This thing has cooling slots! And they were dusty! Ahah! This was my moment. I had seen enough movies to know that if you blow air into something dusty, you'll probably want to open a window or do it away from your breathing space. Well too bad. Those movies weren't enough. I proceeded to blow violently into the bottom with enough force to startle a large kitten from its slumber and enough spit to offend a garden hose. Hopefully, this would solve our issue I thought.
With a new groove, I reseated the disc to check my theory. I could almost yell. I did yell. A loud YYYEEESSS! exploded from my mouth as the Playstation loading screen finished without a pause. As the loading screen came up, I turned around towards my friends, ready to bask in a glorious light of appreciation. But this was no time to celebrate. This was prime ass-kicking time! And kick their asses I did. The next day at school, as I ate the lunch that his mom had made, my friend said "That was pretty cool what you did yesterday. My dad has one that's always messing up. Could you help out?" I didn't know it then, but this was my first REAL MONEY customer. But certainly not the last.
Seemingly out of nowhere, the game would stop and laugh at our inability to continue. This single moment is where I had my "Oh Hell Naw!" moment. I was determined to get that game working. My reputation as Tekken King was at stake. I had kids owing me lunch over these games, and tomorrow was a favorite, potato bread PB&J with apple jelly! I wasn't about to let this slide. At that moment, I had to make sure I showed no weakness as my friends gasped in amazement as I moved towards the console. With false confidence, I walked.
My first instinct was to jiggle the video cords attached to the console. No dice. Next the video cord connection to the TV. Nope. Then the game cartridge. Nothing. As the pressure started to mount, I decided that it was best to call the round a draw and start over, seeing as we had been so rudely interrupted. I moved the power switch to the off position almost in slow motion. I had never done this before and wasn't too sure of the outcome. My mother would always cut it on and have the controllers and TV ready to go (thanks, mom), so this was unfamiliar territory. *Click* *Click* I remember seeing and hearing those wonderful chimes that signaled the new beginnings of a good game, and some good ol' braggin' rights. The text became distorted along with the audio. Darn. That didn't work. How about if I unplug everything?
I proceeded to unplug everything that looked like it was externally attached. When I finally got it upside down, something told me to examine it carefully. Then I discovered it. This thing has cooling slots! And they were dusty! Ahah! This was my moment. I had seen enough movies to know that if you blow air into something dusty, you'll probably want to open a window or do it away from your breathing space. Well too bad. Those movies weren't enough. I proceeded to blow violently into the bottom with enough force to startle a large kitten from its slumber and enough spit to offend a garden hose. Hopefully, this would solve our issue I thought.
With a new groove, I reseated the disc to check my theory. I could almost yell. I did yell. A loud YYYEEESSS! exploded from my mouth as the Playstation loading screen finished without a pause. As the loading screen came up, I turned around towards my friends, ready to bask in a glorious light of appreciation. But this was no time to celebrate. This was prime ass-kicking time! And kick their asses I did. The next day at school, as I ate the lunch that his mom had made, my friend said "That was pretty cool what you did yesterday. My dad has one that's always messing up. Could you help out?" I didn't know it then, but this was my first REAL MONEY customer. But certainly not the last.