Ayer estuve tratando, primero de activar el Windows a la laptop Samsung de un amigo, y despu茅s intentando reinstalar el sistema operativo.
Ni las consultas en internet, ni las llamadas a otros amigos resolvieron el problema. Perd铆 4 horas en eso. En todo este tiempo utilic茅 el monitor de mi computador, el viejo Gigabyte de mil batallas, la pantalla de mi amigo, estaba destrozada.
No pude escribir ni atender otras cosas. 驴Hice bien? 驴Hice mal?
Yo lo intent茅. Empec茅 por lo b谩sico: entrar al setup. Apret茅 F2, F10, ESC, como un ritual olvidado, hasta que por fin entr茅 a la BIOS de esa Samsung. Verifiqu茅 el orden de booteo. Puse el USB primero. Guard茅 los cambios y sal铆. La laptop intent贸 bootear desde mi pendrive, pero a veces fallaba. Otras veces, llegaba a la pantalla azul de instalaci贸n de Windows.
Ah铆 comenzaba el suplicio.
El proceso de instalaci贸n parec铆a ir bien hasta que ped铆a la clave de producto. Yo hac铆a clic en "No tengo clave" para saltarlo, pero sab铆a que era solo posponer lo inevitable. M谩s tarde, en el escritorio, ven铆a el intento de activaci贸n. Abr铆a la ventana de activaci贸n, probaba los m茅todos antiguos. El comando slmgr /ato en la ventana de ejecutar. Nada. El error era claro: no se pod铆a conectar al servidor de Microsoft.
Busqu茅 en internet scripts de activaci贸n, esos archivos .bat que prometen milagros. Los ejecutaba, pero los antivirus los borraban o simplemente no funcionaban. Era un c铆rculo: bootear, instalar, error de activaci贸n. Reiniciar. Intentar otro m茅todo.
Mis herramientas eran las de siempre: un USB booteable creado con Rufus, el viejo monitor Gigabyte que nunca falla, y mi paciencia, que esa s铆 ten铆a l铆mites.
En el fondo, yo sab铆a que el problema pod铆a ser la propia licencia de Windows, que era una versi贸n vieja y esa laptop ya no era compatible. O que el hardware, con los a帽os, simplemente no pasaba la validaci贸n digital. Pero segu铆 adelante, como si con pura fuerza de voluntad pudiera enga帽ar al sistema.
Yo hice bien porque no me rend铆 al primer obst谩culo. Porque cuando alguien te pide ayuda con su computadora, te est谩 confiando un pedazo de su vida digital, de sus recuerdos y sus trabajos. Yo us茅 lo que sab铆a. Revis茅 el setup. Asegur茅 que booteara correctamente. Intent茅 todos los caminos de activaci贸n que conoc铆a y algunos que aprend铆 sobre la marcha. Le demostr茅 a mi amigo que su problema me importaba lo suficiente como para pelearme con men煤s de BIOS y mensajes de error durante horas. Eso vale. Le di tiempo, atenci贸n y sudor digital.
Eso es hacer bien las cosas en el plano humano.
Pero yo tambi茅n hice mal.
Porque despu茅s de la primera hora, de la segunda, ya no era ayuda. Era obstinaci贸n. Era mi orgullo peleando contra una m谩quina que ya hab铆a dictado sentencia. Yo dej茅 de bootear para solucionar y empec茅 a bootear para ganar.
Cada reinicio era un desaf铆o personal, no un paso l贸gico. Mientras yo estaba enredado en pantallas de setup y c贸digos de error, mis propias tareas, mis palabras por escribir, mi vida, esperaban en pausa. No supe ver el punto de quiebre. No supe decir "hasta aqu铆".
Un t茅cnico profesional habr铆a diagnosticado el problema de licencia o hardware como fatal en media hora. Yo le dediqu茅 cuatro. Fall茅 en la gesti贸n del recurso m谩s valioso: mi propio tiempo.
Al final, la laptop no se activ贸. Yo apagu茅 el monitor Gigabyte, desconect茅 el USB, y devolv铆 la laptop con la pantalla rota y Windows a煤n en modo desactivado. No hubo final feliz t茅cnico.
Pero tal vez, solo tal vez, hubo otro tipo de activaci贸n. La de un v铆nculo. Mi amigo vio el esfuerzo. Vio que su problema, aunque insignificante en el gran esquema de las cosas, fue mi problema por cuatro horas. Eso activa algo entre las personas.
No obstante la pr贸xima vez, sin embargo, yo activar茅 mi sentido com煤n mucho antes. Bootear茅 a la realidad despu茅s del primer intento fallido. Usar茅 el setup de mi juicio para poner un l铆mite de tiempo. Y activar茅 la opci贸n m谩s importante: la de ayudar de verdad, que a veces significa decir "no s茅, pero busquemos a quien s铆 sepa", y poder atender, al mismo tiempo, las otras cosas que tambi茅n son mi vida.
C贸mo emprendimiento para m铆, creo que por ah铆 no es.
Despu茅s de todo no fueron cuatro horas en vano. 驴No creen?
馃寪 Art铆culo original escrito en espa帽ol, mi lengua materna. La versi贸n en ingl茅s ha sido traducida mediante Google Translate.
馃捇 Samsung, For Better and For Worse (ESP-ENG)
Yesterday I spent time trying, first to activate Windows on a friend's Samsung laptop, and then trying to reinstall the operating system.
Neither online searches nor calls to other friends solved the problem. I wasted 4 hours on it. The whole time I used the monitor from my own computer, the old Gigabyte veteran of a thousand battles, because my friend's screen was shattered.
I couldn't write or attend to other things. Did I do the right thing? Did I do the wrong thing?
I tried. I started with the basics: entering the setup. I pressed F2, F10, ESC, like a forgotten ritual, until I finally entered that Samsung's BIOS. I checked the boot order. I put the USB first. Saved the changes and exited. The laptop tried to boot from my flash drive, but sometimes it failed. Other times, it reached the blue Windows installation screen.
That's where the ordeal began.
The installation process seemed to go well until it asked for the product key. I clicked "I don't have a key" to skip it, but I knew it was just postponing the inevitable. Later, on the desktop, came the activation attempt. I opened the activation window, tried the old methods. The slmgr /ato command in the run window. Nothing. The error was clear: it couldn't connect to the Microsoft server.
I searched online for activation scripts, those .bat files that promise miracles. I ran them, but the antivirus would delete them or they simply didn't work. It was a loop: boot, install, activation error. Restart. Try another method.
My tools were the usual ones: a bootable USB created with Rufus, the old Gigabyte monitor that never fails, and my patience, which did have its limits.
Deep down, I knew the problem could be the Windows license itself, that it was an old version and that laptop was no longer compatible. Or that the hardware, over the years, simply couldn't pass the digital validation. But I pressed on, as if sheer willpower could fool the system.
I did well because I didn't give up at the first obstacle. Because when someone asks you for help with their computer, they are entrusting you with a piece of their digital life, their memories and their work. I used what I knew. I checked the setup. Made sure it booted correctly. Tried all the activation paths I knew and some I learned on the fly. I showed my friend that their problem mattered enough to me to fight with BIOS menus and error messages for hours. That counts. I gave them time, attention, and digital sweat.
That's doing things right on a human level.
But I also did wrong.
Because after the first hour, the second hour, it was no longer help. It was stubbornness. It was my pride fighting against a machine that had already passed judgment. I stopped booting to solve and started booting to win.
Every reboot was a personal challenge, not a logical step. While I was tangled up in setup screens and error codes, my own tasks, my words waiting to be written, my life, were on hold. I couldn't see the breaking point. I didn't know how to say "enough."
A professional technician would have diagnosed the license or hardware problem as fatal in half an hour. I dedicated four. I failed to manage the most valuable resource: my own time.
In the end, the laptop wasn't activated. I turned off the Gigabyte monitor, disconnected the USB, and returned the laptop with the broken screen and Windows still in deactivated mode. There was no technical happy ending.
But maybe, just maybe, there was another kind of activation. That of a bond. My friend saw the effort. They saw that their problem, though insignificant in the grand scheme of things, was my problem for four hours. That activates something between people.
However, next time, I will activate my common sense much earlier. I'll boot to reality after the first failed attempt. I'll use the setup of my judgment to set a time limit. And I'll activate the most important option: the one to truly help, which sometimes means saying "I don't know, but let's find someone who does," and being able to attend, at the same time, to the other things that are also my life.
As an entrepreneurial venture for me, I don't think that's the way.
After all, they weren't four hours in vain. Don't you think?
馃寪 Original article written in Spanish, my native language. The English version has been translated using Google Translate.