[“Let
Inga Tell You,” La Jolla Light, published August 15, 2018] ©2018
I’ve
been using computers, printers, and scanners for several decades now so you’d
think I’d have the hang of them. But every new version becomes increasingly
unfriendly and unworkable. Am I just getting stupider? No, don’t answer.
My
personal theory is that technology has just become too technical.
When
I had to replace my 2005 3-in-1 printer-scanner recently – a machine that was so
user friendly that I never had to read the instruction manual – I ended up
returning two of its successors as being so utterly user-hostile that I simply
couldn’t make them work. It goes without saying that there is no longer an
instruction manual and that the machine itself is entirely icon-driven rather
than using words. I suppose this is so the machine can be used across many
languages but in actuality ensures that no one on any continent can actually
figure them out.
On-line
help doesn’t speak English. (Actually, human help doesn’t either.) That is to
say, you have to know the technical term for your problem or it can’t help
you. (I once discovered – or Olof did – that the problem I was trying to fix
was “icon overlays.” Why anyone would even need to overlay an icon is beyond me
but suddenly my screen was riddled with them.)
Not
too many years ago, if your computer was working fine on one day and you didn’t
mess with it, it would be working fine the next day too. Not anymore.
There
are infinite numbers of things that can go wrong with your computer. And
Microsoft thinks of new ones every day. They’re called “updates”. Unsolicited
updates and undesired upgrades are the curse of the modern world. They
guarantee that whatever worked before will never work again.
If
you change one teeny weeny little thing on your computer, it’s like the
butterfly in Australia that flaps its wings and causes tornados in Kansas.
Trying to fix that problem changes enough things to add monsoons in Asia.
Error
messages, meanwhile, are a cruel psychological test. The one thing you can be
assured of is that whatever it says is NOT the actual problem.
One
thing I’ve learned over the years: electronics are sentient beings. Technical
gadgets sense fear and totally take advantage of it. Laugh if you will, but I
have found irrefutable evidence over the years that while computers like to
jerk around people like me just for the fun of it – it knows deep in its little
microchips that I am afraid of it – they themselves are terrified of actual
techno-geek people like my former work colleague, Dave, or my engineer husband,
Olof. As soon as they sit down in my desk chair, the printer that wouldn’t
print color for me suddenly produces brilliant rainbow images, or the document
that wouldn’t format correctly miraculously prints exactly how I’d been trying
to make it print for the last FOUR HOURS.
I
really do try to fix these problems myself. For most new software, there IS no
tech support other than “community groups” for which you are dependent on the
kindness of totally inept strangers. My experience with community groups is:
(1)
nobody answers your question
(2)
lots of people answer your question but none of the solutions help
(3)
I can’t understand any of the solutions
(4)
the solutions will mess up my computer to the point that the original problem
will seem insignificant.
Personally,
I think there is a lot that could be done to standardize electronics. For
example, if I were President, I would make it a law that all documents have to
be fed either face up or face down.
If
an electronics company had asked me, and inexplicably they never do, I would
help them design a computer that real people, especially aging non-technical
but really nice people, could actually use. The Clairvoyance Model. Your
computer would get to know you, realize that those nasty keystroke commands
that are the boon of techno types, but the bane of the techno challenged,
should be ignored at all costs. The Clairvoyance Model would quickly learn
that you have the frustration tolerance of a gnat. It would sense when you are
so aggravated with your computer that you are ready to drag it out to the
driveway and run it over with your car.
My
one hope is that Alexa, the voice-controlled Amazon robot that everyone except
me seems to own, will ultimately become the tech support that seems to have
globally disappeared. Maybe she has connections with Microsoft that we mere
mortals don’t. Unlike tech support, she’ll actually answer. No hold time!
“Alexa,” I’ll say, “my ruler disappeared from my Word documents after the last
update. Please find it and put it back.” Or maybe, “Alexa, please install my
new “self-installing” (ha!) printer before I give up and throw the effing
thing in the pool.” And it will be done.
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