I am that way about all things technical. For example, I never learned how to use that heavy little dinosaur-aged machine for VHS tape. So I probably don’t have to tell you that I still have no clue how to use a DVD player. I do know how to turn my iPhone off and on. Sometimes I can remember how to take photos with it, but don’t depend on me to always remember.
Try to talk to me about apps and you will probably see me cry.
And so, just to simplify everything, let’s say that if something plugs in – no matter what it is – I probably know absolutely nothing about it. If you try to teach me about it, my eyes will glaze over. And I will be comatose long before you are finished with your tutorial.
My confessions give you a little hint about how terrible my week became when my laptop crashed.
“I need help,” I said to one of my many geeky friends. “The screen on my laptop is black.”
She stopped by, examined my pride and joy and then spoke in a funeral director voice, “Sherri, it’s dead.”
“Yes,” she nodded. “Your laptop is dead.”
“How dead?” I asked. “As in needing a new battery dead?”
“No, more dead.”
“Tell me the bad news,” I snapped. “I need to know what I’m dealing with.”
“Your laptop is deader than a doorknob dead.”
I blinked at my beloved piece of equipment. “Is there some kind of CPR for a moment like this?”
“Your laptop cannot be brought back to life,” my friend shook her head. “The hard drive is gone. So everything you didn’t have saved is now gone.”
“What?” My face got hot. Heart palpitations immediately sent me into a hyperventilating snot festival.
“Oh no!” I sobbed. “You mean I lost my book?”
“Unless your book was somehow stored, such as on the cloud, it is definitely toast.”
“The cloud?” I whined. “What in the world are you talking about? What cloud? Why didn’t I know anything about working on a cloud?”
“You probably don’t know about the cloud for the same reason you don’t know about Blu-ray and so many other things,” my friend rolled her eyes. “You live your life in a cave.”
“Stay with the crisis at hand,” I wailed. “What about my book?”
“I am so sorry for you,” she patted my hand before leaving me alone to grieve my dead laptop, my missing manuscript and my total lack of computer skills.
Well, just as I fell down the slippery slope of despair, a miracle occurred.
And that smiling, laughing miracle is Kelly Sawyers, co-owner of The Southsider Voice. After I sniffled and snotted my way through telling her about my current challenge, she referred me to a computer whiz. And this guy, Steve Battiato, somehow retrieved my book from the corpse of my laptop.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” I cried – of course – since I cry about anything, especially happy stuff. “You have no idea what this means to me! Thank you so much.”
But I still struggled with how to truly let this guy know how much his magic meant to me.
“Listen,” I said before we hung up, “if you ever need a kidney, I’m your chick.”