Jackie Wells-Fauth
Now, you’ve heard me whine about technology in the past. Probably louder whines come from any of the people who must deal with me on a technological level. But I have decided that this is too bad. People will have to accept me with all of my technological deficiencies.
My daughter spent a few days with me recently and while I used to call these family visits, I’ve decided I should just call them what they are: service calls from my IT person.
I was working with my e-mail (my lifeline for any work I do) when I received notice that I would have to undertake a procedure to make the email more secure. Oh lord! I immediately shot back a panicked notice to the tech person who had alerted me to this problem: Do I HAVE to do this???
Something in my grunting and profuse sweating set off the alarm bells in my daughter. Without asking me too many questions, she contacted the tech people (who obviously had no idea the low level of tech they were dealing with) and when she was done, the new level of security was no problem. The only difficulty I had left was the extra “app” I had managed to load on my phone that it turns out I didn’t need. I still have it because I hated to admit to her how completely I had screwed up, and I have no idea how to “unload” it. (I don’t think that’s the right reference.)
Moving right along, she noticed that I have a brand-new DVD player (it’s not a VCR player, but I frequently call it that). She asked if I was enjoying using it and I said, “I don’t know. There’s something wrong with my cable service and I can’t switch from the cable channels to the DVD player setup and back again. I’m going to call them and get them down here to straighten that out.”
While I was ranting and raving on that topic, she began randomly switching from cable to the DVD player and back to the cable. “How are you doing that?” I demanded, forgetting that I should probably be grateful that I hadn’t called a cable guy down to my house for a simple switch of a button on the remote.
“It’s simple,” she explained more patiently than she should have, “You were just pushing the wrong button. This one will handle it for you.”
She looked awfully smug for a woman who once depended on me for food, clean pants and support while she learned to walk. Could it be that this is payback for my ineptitude at dealing with those things?
Technology experts surround me: they are called “anyone younger than me.” I break into a cold sweat if I have to go online to do anything—I can barely deal with business over the telephone. Some people zip onto the online programs, do whatever they need to, effortlessly and zoom on to something else. Me? It took my two-year-old grandson to show me that there was an outside button to get in the trunk of my car!
I find some kindred spirits among those my own age, but I also find some older people who can actually handle all that technology and age as well. In my jealousy, I refer to them as turncoats. The least they could do is act like they can’t use technology; then I would feel better.
I keep reminding myself that these young tech wizards grew up with computers while my first experience with a computer was the giant one filling a room at college. They gave me a bunch of cards, which, after I punched the appropriate holes in them…caused the computer to spit out a piece of paper with a short, wavy line on it. This was indeed, the sum total of my technology skills and they haven’t increased much since then!
As for the technology it took to secure my email, I assure you it’s now in place and all of you tech types who got that done have my undying gratitude and my confession that I have no idea how you did it! And the caution that this is not likely to change! Sorry!
dropsinthewell 