Mom Versus
Computer
by Shawn
Underwood
My nemesis,
the computer, completely frustrates me to no end
and this is where my tale begins…
I approach the
computer with trepidation; yes it appears
innocuous, as there is food spillage on the
keypads, making it a rather friendly looking
piece of hardware. I convince myself that yes, I
can work on “Word” without mishap even
though my twelve-year-old daughter is not here to
help me. I am really tired of her looks of
sympathy and then her looks of despair at the
ineptitude of her parent.
I recall an
amusing story and happily type it all out and
proceed to send it to my agent (harassed friend). I
push what I believe to be the appropriate key and
then to my utter dismay all of my work disappears. Quickly
back pedal or what is known as backspace. Nothing. Look
in the “Teenagers and Driving” file...nothing.
“Teenagers
and Driving” isn’t even in its own file.
What is wrong? Maybe I should take a computer
class; perhaps I am wasting a lot of time trying
to navigate my computer. I hate to think that my
husband and kids are right. Maybe I am inept at
working my own piece of equipment. I can manage
to do a lot of other things; I did drive a pea-viner
for a living for two weeks in Mount Vernon. So
what if it was twenty-five years ago, that is one
mean piece of machinery. They have heard the pea-viner
story before and commence with the chortles and
guffaws. This is the usual response I get to,
“I remember when” stories. I decide to
wait for my daughter to come home. She will help
me; she at least likes me most of the time.
I eagerly pick
up my twelve-year-old computer savvy daughter at
school. Attempt to bribe her with after school
treat. She suspects something is up when I offer
to clean her room. She asks how my day went and I
admit that perhaps I had the smallest problem
with my nemesis the computer. She rolls her eyes.
I am used to this and take no offense.
After I show
my daughter the extent of my damage, she sighs
loudly and suggests that perhaps her fifth grade
teacher can tutor me in the mysterious ways of
“Word”. I of course readily agree and
ask if she can solve my now solve my problem. She
pushes all sorts of keys with rapid finger
movements. I feebly ask if she can explain
things to me but she is immersed in the problem.
Perhaps it is best to keep quiet. Finally she
announces that indeed this time I really messed
things for good. I need a professional. Am aware
I need professional help but do not like hearing
it from my daughter.
Tomorrow I
will pick my daughter up and hope that she has
arranged my tutoring lesson with her fifth grade
teacher. I assume this will mean many school
volunteer activities will suddenly be offered to
me as payback; it will be worth it for a tutoring
session. My esteem will rise when all family
members see me conquer my nemesis, the computer.
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