The Big Mac Experience

A few years back, I had my own version of a "Big Mac attack," but it wasn't the kind that involves fast food. Instead, it revolved around my laptop. Despite my belief that I had solid work habits, my computer suffered a catastrophic failure, leading to what I dubbed Central Processor Arrest. In simpler terms, it ran out of steam and could no longer keep its hard drive and other components functioning properly.

It all unfolded rather abruptly. I was parked in front of my laptop, wasting time watching a funny YouTube clip featuring a skateboarding bulldog, when suddenly my screen went grey and unresponsive. I tried all the typical troubleshooting steps: logging off, logging back on, forcefully shutting down, rebooting, and performing what I like to call CPR (Cursed. Panicked. Ranted.)

But alas, there was no sign of life.

This was a disaster. My first draft was trapped within, and like a fool, I hadn't made regular backups. I hadn't utilized cloud storage, either. To be frank, I hadn't backed anything up at all. I know! (No excuses here, but that's a different discussion.)

While I'm not completely clueless about technology—I can navigate most computers—I definitely don't feel at ease with the inner workings of them. Terms like RAM, motherboards, and firewalls seem overly aggressive to me. I much prefer software; it feels more user-friendly and approachable.

After calming my nerves with some stale water biscuits smeared with peanut butter, I carefully packed my ailing MacBook into its quirky blue bag and took it to my local Mac store. I began to feel hopeful. After all, Macs are known for their reliability, and the technicians seemed like they were on top of their game. They were all in their twenties and had a knack for all things tech-related, plus they had that cool, laid-back vibe reminiscent of the Mac commercials from years past.

After chatting with them, my spirits lifted considerably. So much so, I went to Whole Foods and splurged on a cart full of organic veggies, tofu, and some Kombucha—not to mention a fancy block of soy cheese. My Big Mac moment had got me reflecting on my own internal hard drive, realizing it was time to be more proactive.

However, the tranquility I felt was short-lived. The real panic set in when I placed my $2,534.23 grocery bag in the car. It wasn’t the exorbitant grocery bill that triggered my anxiety; it was "the call."

“I’m sorry, Carol Anne,” the Mac technician said, his tone grave yet sympathetic. “We tried everything, but we couldn’t recover your data.”

I felt a wave of heat wash over me, followed by a chill. “What do you mean?” My palms began to sweat.

There was a brief pause. “Unfortunately, your hard drive is unmountable. We did our best, but it’s beyond saving.”

Silence enveloped me.

“Carol Anne?”

“Yes, I’m still here. I... I need a moment.”

“I understand this is a tough situation for you; it’s a significant loss, but—”

“I’m sorry,” I interrupted, “but can I ask you something?”

“Of course. What is it?”

With one hand gripping the steering wheel, I leaned closer to the phone. “Can I see it? Can I see my hard drive?”

“Yes, absolutely. We’ve installed a new one, but your old one is still here. You can pick it up whenever you want.”

“Thank you. I... I just want to have it.”

“Of course. We completely understand.”

“Maybe someday, when I’m a successful author, I’ll invest in an expensive data recovery service to retrieve my manuscript.”

“That’s a possibility, Carol Anne. Hope is all we can cling to,” the technician replied, sounding less like a twenty-something and more like Yoda.

“Thanks for trying to help with my laptop,” I said, genuinely grateful.

“It’s our job. That’s what we do.”

I drove home in a haze, and over the following days, I cycled through the classic five stages of grief:

DENIAL (Those technicians are clueless! I’ll just take my ailing hard drive to someone more competent, like a place where the techs wear tucked-in shirts and know who ‘The Cure’ is!)

ANGER (I despise computers! Writing is for fools! I’m quitting this whole endeavor and getting a real job!)

BARGAINING (Oh, please, Patron Saint of Laptopia; restore my machine, and I vow I’ll never write a novel without a proper outline ever again.)

DEPRESSION (Why is there no REAL cheese in this house!? And who’s responsible for buying all these overpriced vegetables?)

Finally, I reached…

ACCEPTANCE, which is the essence of this reflection.

It’s ironic; losing countless words of what I believed to be a perfect draft was intimidating, but, dare I say, it turned out to be a hidden blessing. Looking back, I realize I had been writing that draft more out of panic than passion. My focus was solely on meeting an unrealistic deadline, and I was becoming a bit too self-satisfied with my rapid pace of writing. Losing those words pushed me to reevaluate my approach.

Hmmm...

The conclusion I’ve arrived at is this: writing a book takes time. If you’re fixated solely on the finish line, treating the process like a high-stakes competition, the beginning and middle sections will likely suffer. If you’re not immersed in the moment, enjoying the journey, and writing with an open heart and mind, your story will likely reflect that.

Needless to say, I now back up my work as diligently as I floss my teeth—which, by the way, is twice daily. I’ve embraced cloud storage, and I even have a charming vintage cigar box filled with colorful flash drives. I created a spreadsheet to track what’s stored on each of those essential little devices.

Yeah, don’t pretend you’re not impressed—especially about the flossing.

Chapter 2: Learning from the Big Mac Attack

In the wake of my experience, I found value in what it means to protect my work. Here's a look at some insightful video content.

The first video, "McDonald's Big Mac Attack (1988)," humorously explores the chaos that ensues when one is overwhelmed by a craving for a Big Mac.

The second video, "Big Mac Attack: Original Vs Double," compares the classic Big Mac to its double counterpart, highlighting the differences and similarities in a lighthearted manner.