The joke around Los Angeles is that everyone is a script writer. As you check out of the grocery store, just casually ask the cashier how her script is coming along and she’ll probably answer, “Not too bad, but the second act’s a little thin.”

It’s like that here in Redmond as well. Except up here, they’re all computer heads. Sure, Microsoft is the big dog on the block, but we also have Nintendo and Adobe, along with a few hundred garage companies. Home-made signs on the side of the road offer services like “PC Running Slow? Call Me!” and “Build U a PC — REEL CHEEP!”

This high-tech mindset was driven home a few months ago when my barber, John, was making the requisite small talk as he clipped away. (On my honor, the following is a true conversation.)
 ”So, how are things, Ken?” (snip, snip)
 ”Oh, not bad. My PC is giving me fits.”
 ”What’s the problem?” (clip, clip)
 ”I’m having trouble with file sharing on my home network.”
 ”Running XP Pro?”
 ”Of course. And I’ve set up a shared folder on my desktop, but I can’t see it from my wife’s laptop. It’s frustrating.”
 ”Hmm… could be a firewall conflict. Make sure you’ve turned off the Windows firewall and are just using the one that comes with your security suite.” (snip, snip)
 ”Really? I’ll give it a go. Thanks.”

The funny thing is that this isn’t an isolated incident. Around these parts, you kind of expect people to know what they’re talking about when it comes to computers. Like basketball in Indiana, and Country music in Nashville, people in Redmond just seem to have a natural handle on computers. [Enter your own anti-Microsoft joke here.] And since I’ve lived here, I have to admit that, when faced with a computer problem, I’m more inclined to listen to a Redmond barber than to a professional computer technician in Chattanooga, my former residence. Maybe it’s all the rain that keeps people indoors up here. Maybe it’s their desire to build another Microsoft and become the next Bill Gates. I’m really not sure. But one thing is certain: the people around Redmond have a definite passion for all things hi-tech that I never saw in Tennessee.

Skeptical? Just two days ago, I was using my debit card to buy some stuff at The Home Depot. The check-out lady, orange apron and everything, takes one look at my card and says, “Hey, looks like an Asus brand motherboard,” referring to the picture that my bank, First Tech Credit Union, put on the debit card.

“An Asus brand motherboard?” said I. “What are you talking about?”
 ”See these jumpers here? Doesn’t that look like an Asus?”
 ”I can honestly say that I’ve never looked at it that closely. In fact, until this moment, I thought it was supposed to be an ant farm.”
 ”No, sir. I assemble PCs in my other life. You can be sure it’s an Asus. You have a nice day now.”

Despite all the franchising and cross-pollination that goes on in this 21st century, each American town seems to somehow find its own unique personality. For whatever reason, the Welcome to Redmond sign board claims that the town is the “Bicycle Capital of the Northwest.” I’m in Redmond every day and I can tell you with conviction that the town doesn’t have any more bicycles or bicyclists than your average northwestern city. My bet is that the Redmond Chamber of Commerce got together one day and decided that they wanted Redmond to be known for something other than Bill Gates’ playground, so they made up this bicycle thing and put it in all the newspapers and travel literature. But that’s like me trying to come up with my own nickname. (”From now on, everyone should call me The K-Man.”) It just doesn’t work like that. If you’re ever going to have a nickname, others will create it for you based on your personality. If the Chamber of Commerce had let things run their natural course, the sign board would say: “Welcome to Redmond, the Computer Nerdiest, Microsoft-lovingest, Bill Gates-hostin’ Town in the World.” Now that’s a nickname.

Turns out my barber was dead-on about my file sharing issue. I turned off the Windows firewall and now I’m sharing more files than a Cold War spy during the Eisenhower administration. The next time I got my hair cut, I thanked John for his advice and asked him, with his obvious penchant for fixing computer problems, why he wasn’t working for a computer company.

“Because I’m doing what I like — cutting hair,” he said so matter-of-factly that I felt embarrassed to have even asked.
Hmm… can’t argue with that.