Appendix J - Ginger's Story
I don't need another shithead running my life.
Based on baby pictures and family stories, I was born as bald as a cue ball. Even at one year old, I didn't have even a hint of hair. But despite this ambiguous beginning, my parents named me Ginger. My mom is your classic sundrenched blonde, and my dad is a dark brunette. So, I guess you add those together, and you get a soft reddish-tan. Not strawberry blonde, and not a burgundy-brunette, but Ginger.
My parents couldn't have picked a more perfect name for me, even if they had known all along what color my hair would have turned out to be. And the interesting thing is that, as I became of age, all of my body hair was Ginger, from my eyebrows, to my underarm hair, to my - well, you know.
My parents met while they were both students at the University of Southern California. My mom was pre-law, and my dad was pre-dental. I'm not sure exactly when they met, but I think they had already dated for several years before graduating. But I do know that upon graduation, they moved in together. My mom went to work for an LA law firm, and my dad continued on at USC as a dental student.
And as USC is a private school and is stupid expensive - they don't call it the University of Spoiled Children for nothing. My dad joined the Navy in order for them to pay for his dental school. Of course, that meant he had a six year commitment after graduation. And that explains why I was born in Okinawa, Japan. Upon my dad's completion of dental school, my parents were married, and after completing OCS, my dad's first duty assignment was Hawaii. If my math is correct, that's where I was conceived. And by the time I was born, the family had been transferred to Okinawa.
My younger sister, Natalie, was also born there. However, my dad was out of the Navy, and we had moved back to California for the birth of my baby sister, Heidi. We settled in Pasadena, and that's where I grew up and attended school - all the way from second grade through high school. My mom never did get to go to law school. But she is a paralegal for a large Pasadena law firm. And my dad partnered with several other dentists in the Huntington Memorial Medical Center.
I have to admit, I led a pretty sheltered and upper-middle class life. I was given a car when I turned sixteen. I was active in various school activities, including sports and various academic clubs, and I made pretty good grades. But despite all of that, I was unable to get into UCLA - my dream college. Now I could have gotten into USC. Not because the admission requirements are any lower. But with my parents both being alumni, and that the waiting list is not quite as long due to the high cost. But I just didn't want to go there. I love my parents, but I didn't want to follow that closely in their footsteps. I wanted to blaze my own trail. Even though they were paying for it.
So, after high school graduation, I enrolled at Cal State Los Angeles. It was only eight miles from the house, and that allowed me to continue living at home. You see, I didn't really know what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. I knew I wanted to go to college; I just didn't know what I wanted to study. I think I had it too easy growing up. I was never under any pressure to do this or that, and though I was a good student, I spent most of my free time just hanging out with my friends.
One thing I did seem to have an interest in was shopping, and since CSLA didn't offer a degree plan in that, I chose the next best thing - Fashion Merchandising. The first year was your basic freshman college classes. However, by my sophomore year, I was able to start my introductory business and marketing courses. Now, these I found more interesting, and I was actually starting to get interested in a career. I was enjoying school, I worked part-time as a sales clerk for Macy's, and I still lived at home. All was going fine until my cell phone died. I say died; it still lit up. It just wouldn't do anything. I was at school, and I needed help.
"Ricki," I said to my best friend as we were sitting in the Student Union. "Something is wrong with my phone. It just doesn't do anything."
"What's wrong with it," she replied, as she stared aimlessly at her own phone.
"I don't know. It lights up, and I can see all my apps. But it doesn't matter which one I tap - nothing happens." I admit I was somewhat of a technology dork. I used technology every day, but if it didn't work, I'd just ask somebody what to do instead of trying to figure it out myself.
"Do you know Daniel Ross?" Ricki mumbled as she continued to stare at her phone.
I thought for a second, before answering, "No."
"He's a techno-geek," Ricki said, still without looking up. He can fix just about anything."
"How do I find him?" I asked.
"I just texted him," she said, still not looking up from her phone.
Ricki and I had been good friends since tenth grade. And since moving up to CSLA, she was probably my best friend. So, I trusted her. I just wondered how she knew this guy, and I'd never heard of him. But, whatever. If he could fix my phone, then I was good with that.
Ten minutes later, he met us at the Student Union, and five minutes after that, my phone was working fine. "What did you do?" I asked, somewhat embarrassed that I couldn't have figured that out for myself.
"I just rebooted it," he said, rather nonchalantly. "You got anything else that needs fixing?"
Actually, I did. Plus, Daniel was a lot cuter than I had expected. So, I didn't mind getting to know him a little better. I reached into my backpack and pulled out my laptop. "It takes forever to boot up, and sometimes it takes several tries," I said as I handed it to him. "And when it does finally come on, it is just so slow. I don't know what's wrong with it."
Daniel popped it open and waited while it tried to boot up. After several minutes, when it had not fully loaded, he snapped it closed, and said, "I can fix it, but I need my black bag. Can you leave it with me?"
I trusted him, as Ricki clearly knew him. But I needed my laptop, and I didn't really know this guy, so I said, "I need it for class today; where is your black bag?"
Oh, it's at my apartment. Ten minutes from here," Daniel said casually. "You want to follow me? It will only take twenty minutes to fix it."
I looked over at Ricki, who now was at least looking at us and not her phone. "What do you think?" I said, looking directly at Ricki as if to ask for her permission.
"Sure," she said. "He's a techno genius."
"I mean, do you want to go with us? Over to his apartment," I said, a little flustered that she didn't take the hint that I didn't want to go alone. I'm sure there was nothing to worry about. But she knew this guy, and I didn't. Besides, I had a class in less than two hours, and I didn't want to be stuck at some dude's apartment that I didn't even know.
She looked at me, a little surprised that I felt that I needed a chaperone just to get my computer fixed. But after pausing for a second or two, she said, "Sure, let's go."
My car was the closest, and it was less than a ten minute drive to his place. It was built as your typical Southern California garden apartment. But time had not been good to it, and it looked pretty dumpy. We quickly hiked up the outside stairs to the second floor, and moments later, we were in his apartment. If I felt the outside of the units were a dump, you should have seen the inside. It didn't smell bad, but that was about the only saving grace. There were clothes, shoes, dirty dishes, and just general trash strewn everywhere. And his room looked like an electronic lab that had exploded after being hit by a train or something. I have no idea how he found anything.
But, he knew precisely where his black bag was. Grabbing the bag, he headed for the dining table and after pushing dirty plates and bowls out of the way, sat down with my laptop. "I think there are drinks in the fridge if you want anything," he said, as he quickly went to work on my computer. Ricki nodded, and walking over to the refrigerator, grabbed three bottles of cold water. She never said anything. She just handed them out as I stood there, hoping and praying that I hadn't made a mistake trusting this guy with my laptop.
To my surprise, twenty minutes later, he turned to me and said, "Here, it should work better now." He turned the computer to face me and pressed the power button. Within seconds, it lit up, and within less than a minute, it had fully loaded and was ready to use.
"Wow," I said. "What did you do?"
"I cleared off a bunch of old dead files, cleaned up your start-up sequence, and updated your operating system," he said casually.
