I didn't send the affidavit. Instead, I called the support number. After 47 minutes of hold music—a tinny, looping version of a song I now hate—a human named "Kevin" answered.
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
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." I didn't send the affidavit
Kevin sighed. It was a sigh that contained multitudes. The sigh of a man who had seen the seventh ring of tech support hell. Within an hour, I received an email
I hung up. I sat in the dark, the corpse of my ASUS Zephyrus glowing faintly under the light of my monitor. The warranty card sat beside it. It wasn't a promise. It was a maze. A beautiful, labyrinthine, legally-binding maze designed to protect the Minotaur, not the hero.