"Terry, could you come over and look at this?" As university systems
　　　　  librarian I hear such requests seven times in an average day. Five
　　　　  or six of these can be, handled in seconds because they are common
　　　　  mishaps and the solutions are in my bag of tricks. But once or twice
　　　　  a day, I face the unknown and must solve a problem with a machine I
　　　　  know little about that won't perform a work procedure that I know
　　　　  nothing about.
　　　　  Although I nod reassuringly as a colleague describes the problem,
　　　　  secretly I am terrified. My problem-solving reputation is on the
　　　　  line. Clinging to the proper state of mind is crucial. According to
　　　　  Zen masters, such things cannot be written. However, Westerners rely
　　　　  on words, so here is a list that describes this state of mind:
　　　　  1. The problem can be solved;
　　　　  2. It is my job to solve it, so the buck stops here.
　　　　  3. Once it is solved, that will be one more thing that I know how to
　　　　　　 do.
　　　　  The first tier
　　　　  Suppose the message on the screen reads "!![at]Memory device hung on
　　　　  line 44. Buffer overload exceeds density threshold." No cursor is
　　　　  visible and pushing the escape key does not work. The first tier of
　　　　  problem solving is simply turning the machine off and then on again
　　　　  to let it reboot. The second step is checking all of the cables.
　　　　  Anything that connects one part of the computer to another can shut
　　　　  down the whole operation if it is just a tiny bit unplugged. The
　　　　  final step on the first tier is turning the tables on the person
　　　　  reporting the problem--asking a lot of questions that are a
　　　　  variation on the theme of "Where does it hurt?" Caution is necessary
　　　　  in this questioning because it is easy to be led astray by wrong
　　　　  assumptions made by the person describing the problem, and a wrong
　　　　  turn may lead light years away from the solution.
　　　　  Zen and the limber mind
　　　　  That is where Zen comes into the picture. My wife frequently kids me
　　　　  about my habit of reading about Eastern religions. "You're not a Zen
　　　　  Buddhist. What do you think you're doing?" she'll say. Reading such
　　　　  material keeps my mind limber, I reply. Besides, following the Zen
　　　　  principle of nonattachment is a reminder to be slightly suspicious
　　　　  of all incoming information.
　　　　  Those pitfalls are there even when I should know better. Recently, I
　　　　  was asked to look at an OPAC terminal that had gone completely
　　　　  blank. "This happened right after I swivelled the machine. I think