Many years ago, in my very first apartment as a newlywed, I kept a fish tank on top of an aging unit of shelves. Behind the unit was the nerve center for my entire entertainment center -- all the wires, etc. that kept the TV and all the other gadgets humming.

One night, the TV picture was a bit wobbly, and I kept going behind the shelves to tighten the cable wire. My wife, who saw what was coming, said "Leave it alone, it's fine." As a born anal compulsive, I was determined to fix the reception problem. It took only 10 minutes or so for this simple episode to become a major crisis. I don't remember how, but during one of my many visits to the entertainment center, the fish tank suddenly collapsed through three or four sets of shelves, bringing my entire nerve center down and liberating -- for a brief moment -- the little fish I so loved to watch. "See, I told you to leave it alone," my wife said calmly. I spent all night cleaning up the mess and went straight to work without sleep.

I recall this incident because something very similar happened last week when, in the time it took to switch a computer off, I nearly lost the lifeblood of my business: my entire database of writers and editors -- the candidates that we use to fill positions for clients.

The network administrator in my office decided to realign the entire network over a weekend, and in doing so, took our system down. When that occurred, the contact manager software we use to keep track of our candidates lost a crucial file it needs to boot up. Not knowing how to recover this file, I began fiddling. Only this time, it wasn't little cute neon tetras that were at stake.

At one point, I tried to restore this lost file from my workstation since my computer acts as the server for this database. In a flash, I too lost access to the database. OK, I said, I'm ready for this. I'm backed up! I went to a drawer and confidently put in the Jaz backup disk which contained my entire database. I also rebooted my machine, hoping that some lost files would magically reappear. Now, maybe someone out there can tell me why this happened, but when Windows NT booted up and recognized the Jaz drive, it proceeded to eat and corrupt every single file on the disk. In an instant, I saw my backup disappear and wondered why I don't keep an extra set of underwear in the office just for these occasions.

Unable to access my database and my backup destroyed, I gave in and called tech support at GoldMine, the company that makes the contact manager software. I tried to stay calm, but at $2 a minute for advice, I probably sounded like I was calling "911" to report a murder. The techie on the other end was extremely calm, explaining what each file extension meant and advising me to actually piece together the lost files. "They have to be somewhere on your hard drive" he explained.

Using Norton UnErase, I tracked down all the little files that had anything to do with my contact manager and like a maniac working on a 3,000-piece puzzle, I started gluing the system back together. I don't know how, but eventually it worked, and practically all my files are now restored.

I also made several backups and brought in some fresh underwear just in case I decide to once again "fiddle" with things I know nothing about. Just another week at the office. See ya' around.

George Giokas is the president and CEO of StaffWriters Plus, a specialty agency that places writers in temporary and permanent positions with corporate and other employers. It also provides editorial consulting work. His database includes 2,500 writers and editors specializing in more than 60 categories. His Web site is located at www.staffwriters.com, and you can E-mail him at george@staffwriters.com.