Technologically ChallengedA Story by Carole
Some may love 25 different remotes for 25 different things. Not me! Give me ONE with 2-3 buttons max. Let's not complicate life for God's sake. Time to simplify!
“You’re technologically challenged, Mom,” my daughter said teasing and taunting me while looking at me with exasperation.
She grabbed the remote as if I were a one-year-old picking up a glass trinket from the coffee table.
“Here, let me show you AGAIN how to use this. It’s not that hard.”
I swallowed my pride and did my level best to concentrate. Now, focus Carole. Focus. You can do this, I said trying desperately to convince myself.
She pushed first one button and then another and then another, explaining every detail as she went. My mind trailed off into oblivion, as I switched from nervously scratching my head to cracking my knuckles all in one fluid motion.
Silently enraged and flustered, I cringed while thinking to myself... Too many buttons. There are w-a-a-a-y too many buttons! NO remote should be THIS complicated! All the while, I stood there shaking my head yes, pretending I understood. I thanked her with a sheepish grin as she tossed the remote back in the basket beside the green lazy boy chair and darted out the front door.
I quickly checked the front window to make sure she was in her car and making her departure down the driveway and then returned to the trusty wire basket with the stash of remotes.
I rummaged through the basket trying frantically to remember which remote of the five my daughter was giving me the lesson on.
Was it one of the three long black ones, the long gray one, or the short gray one? "A thousand different buttons, a thousand different insane symbols,” I mumbled as I reached into the basket picking up first one and then another as if to play “Go Fish.”
“Oh screw it,” I lamented loudly, while slamming the last one back into the basket! I’ll do a little computer work instead.
Disgruntled, I plopped down in my burgundy swivel computer chair in my dining room and gave the mouse a deliberate shake to arouse it from its sleep and then clicked on Mozilla Firefox. Still seething from ‘remote rage,’ I grumbled, “Why does this blasted thing, have to be sooo slow? I thought this DSL thing was suppose to be fast, for God's sake?” If I’ve heard my husband say it once, I’ve heard him say it a thousand times: "Now Carole, don’t get click happy. You only have to click once.” That’s got to be an oxymoron if I’ve ever heard one: Click Happy? I am rarely anything but happy while I am clicking away like a raging maniac with another button under my overactive fingertip. Apparently this is part of the whole ADD thing, I think to myself while impatiently muttering “Hurry up. Hurry up! I don’t have all day here. Time’s a-wasting!”
Technologically challenged? Maybe… A pushover? Never! Not on your life! Where’s the sledge hammer? I questioned with murderous revenge on my muddled mind. I ran to the garage and started shuffling through my husbands red tool box, and at last with the sledge hammer in hand, and every one of those tedious remotes lined up in perfect symmetry next to the computer, and my right hand tightly clenched around the wooden handle, I lifted it high into the air and ker-plunk, down it went. With every angry blow, there were pieces of plastic, wires, batteries and computer glass flying to and fro, like a small twister had descended upon and strategically targeted these six items. Screaming at the top of my lungs, I let out every bit of the pent up frustration I was feeling: “Technologically challenged, huh? I’ll show you! I’ve had enough of your technology, Hewlett Packard. I’ve had enough of you crazy remotes, Dish Network. You will not get the best of me,” I said with tongue in cheek. “There! It’s a done deal!” The crime had been methodically executed with each angry and deliberate blow, the remotes and computer now barely recognizable. I collapsed on the couch, with a beet-red face, my heart pulsating a million miles a minute, and sweating profusely from the frustration laced adrenaline rush. I lay there wondering how in the world I was going to explain this maniacal episode to my husband when he walked through the front door and saw the mess I had made? And then it hit me.
My bout of hot-headed Irish blood had clouded my mind and caused me to forget his mentioning just the other day that we needed to break down ‘one of these days’ and buy a new computer. Little did he know that ‘one of these days’ had already arrived. Now he didn’t need an excuse, and I didn’t need to blame my outrage on someone or something other than myself. Maybe I'll give him a little courtesy call at work to give him a heads ups. The remotes…well, that’s another story. Isn’t that what E-bay is for?
© 2009 Carole
Added on February 5, 2008
Last Updated on January 1, 2009
Rio Rancho, NM
AboutThere comes a point in your life when you realize: Who matters, Who never did, Who won't anymore... And who always will. So, don't worry about people from your past, there's a reason why they didn.. more..
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