The form was a test of will. Describe the issue. "Liquid damage. Will not power on." Was the damage caused by misuse, neglect, or an act of God? I paused. Was celebrating an act of God? I selected "Accidental Damage."
"Sir," he said, "I can see your case. The system flags it because your sticky note in the video was green. The example photo shows a yellow sticky note. You will need to re-film the video."
Within an hour, I received an email. Not a shipping label. Not a confirmation. A riddle. "Dear Customer, Thank you for contacting ASUS Warranty Support. Your case number is #W12345-6789. To proceed, please upload a video of the laptop failing to power on, including a close-up of the serial number and today's date written on a sticky note." A video. Of a dead laptop. I filmed it. Thirty seconds of me pressing the power button over and over. The sticky note fell off twice. I emailed it. my asus warranty
Panic is a funny thing. It gives way to a frantic, bureaucratic hope. "It's okay," I whispered, my hand trembling as I opened my browser. "I have the ASUS warranty."
Not a spill, mind you. A drop. A tiny, round, glistening droplet that launched itself from my mug during a celebratory fist pump (I had finally closed a particularly nasty bug in my code). It arced through the air like a liquid meteor and landed squarely in the ventilation grille of my beloved ASUS ROG Zephyrus. The form was a test of will
"Kevin," I said, my voice a low, dangerous whisper. "The laptop is dead. I have the top-tier warranty. Just send me a box."
It began, as all great technological tragedies do, with a single, perfect drop of coffee. Will not power on
A wave of relief. I clicked "Submit Repair Request."