Choose Another Hobby!
I have two reactions when subjected to a computer problem: #1. Fit of rage. #2. Weepy mess.
I used to teach piano lessons and I believe there are, basically, three kinds of “learners”.
First are the truly gifted - musicality oozes out of them and there’s almost nothing you cannot teach them. These are the ones who are “called” to their instrument and, perhaps, will even make a living using the gift God has given them.
The second group - the majority - are teachable and have some level of musicality. They make themselves, their parents and others smile at their accomplishments.
The third group - a rare group of people who, even when shown the same things over and over… just don’t get it. They may be able to pull off playing a song or two but… really… they need to choose another hobby.
Truth be told - I’m exactly like the third group when doing anything computer-related. If someone instructs me in the exact steps to accomplish my task, I can usually manage it. But as soon as there is a sniff of a “glitch” I completely panic, bang on the keys (because THAT’s going to help!) and have the urge to throw my laptop at anything or anyone in the room. Then I cry.
Something like that happened recently and it involved an important document with a deadline. I, of course, asked the one person who sighs deeply, shakes his head and tells me to calm down but then, thankfully, figures out the problem. This time, however, my husband couldn’t get things to work so I called a friend of mine who is in the computer “biz”.
After moving past the anger stage and into “meltdown”, I called Al. Perhaps I should have ceased weeping before speaking with him but after explaining that I wanted to smash my computer, my current hero quickly assured me he’d figure it out. I became instantly hopeful and excitedly told him I would come to his house and bring my laptop to watch him work his magic. Perhaps I’d even learn something!
He agreed, with what seemed like hesitation, but I ignored that and went on my way.
After a challenging time, Al did fix the problem and he realized, up close, how little I know about computers. Lucky him.
When we were done, however, he admitted that he’d been most worried that I would be a blubbering mess when I arrived at his place. (Apparently hysterical women aren’t appealing to him but he can withstand a computer-challenged one.)
If it had been me I would’ve been more concerned about the possibility of a computer being thrown at my head, but I didn’t share that.
I’m sure he’s too kind but what he should have thought was: “she really needs to choose another hobby”.