The following is a re-blog from the very talented Jackie Haugh, a fellow writer and author. Jackie lives and works in Palo Alto, California and in addition to selling real estate, writes a popular monthly column for her local newspaper, The Town Crier. Her book, My Life in a Tutu, is one of my favorites.
I can’t wait to see her newest work in progress. You can visit Jackie and read all of her blogs and buy her book here. Thank you Jackie for a wonderful “Where’s The Justice”… and a week off.
When it comes to technology, I’m the classic village idiot. About the only thing I know how to do is turn a gadget on, and that doesn’t always work. So, when I was in the market for a new laptop, I decided to take my kid’s advice and purchase one they termed “user friendly.” Not only did this company offer classes for the challenged consumer, but my children would be relieved of my incessant questions.
Sitting in the crowded Apple Store in the Valley Fair Mall, I nervously pulled out my latest toy from its fashionable neon pink carrying case and anxiously waited for my first one-to-one training session.
Within minutes, a twenty-something youngster sat next to me and introduced himself as my tech consultant. But as we shook hands, his good-looking face began to shrivel up like a ripe plum in the hot August sun. Apparently, the child screaming next to us was damaging his concentration, as well as his ear drums.
“I’ll never understand why people insist on bringing their kids in here,” he hissed with disgust.
Hmm, obviously not the kid-friendly type, I thought. But as long as he can get me rolling on this sucker, I’ll forgive his flawed character trait.
Refocusing on the issue at hand, he asked in a dead panned tone, “What do you want to know?”
His dark brown eyes narrowing into slits, he seemed to dissect every feature on my sixty-year-old face (all with noticeable revulsion), as his body language screamed, Oh God, not another one of these idiots!
“Ok, maybe not everything,” I interjected quickly, fearful he’d leave before we even got started. “Just teach me the basics. What am I supposed to do with my fingers on the mouse pad?”
“That’s how you want to start?”
“Yes, teach me that,” excitement building as I trusted we were finally getting somewhere.
Curling into a pose resembling Rodin’s bronze statue “The Great Thinker,” head bowed and hand resting under his chin, he sat mute for what felt like an hour. Finally, he was ready to speak.
“Can I make a comment so this will be more productive?”
“Of course!” I said, happy to be accommodating.
Aghast that a simple request created such a volatile response, I searched nervously for a different approach.
“Ah, OK. Would you show me?”
“Please?” he added, for extra condescending measure.
As a child, I was taught to be polite, no matter what the circumstance. Fearing I offended this man/child, I internally shut down and went on a vacation for the next 45 minutes. All his vast knowledge fell on ears clogged with wet cotton.
But later, as I walked to my car, the humiliation I’d felt transformed into an emotion I often prefer to smother – anger.
How can teaching be interpreted as a bad thing? I wanted to scream. The fact of the matter is you are a teacher, mister! And it’s because of inept women like me you have a job in the first place.
Then, taking a moment to calm down, I realized somewhere there was a lesson in all this for me.
While I’ll never be able to control the human side of anyone as it gets the best of them, rather than letting it destroy me, I’ll seek to forgive. After all, they’re the challenged individual, not me. All I can ever do is lead with my heart and leave my ego at home.