Just when I developed a comfort level with VHS, along came the DVD player. By the way, I have one. But I don’t have a clue about how to operate it.
I used a flip phone until it literally got too worn out to flip anymore. Then I was forced into the world of iPhones.
Once again, as soon as I got to a place where I kind of understood the dumb thing, disaster struck. It died. I lost my contacts and all of my photos.
But the most awful part of it all? A dead phone meant that I had to get a new one.
Of course I was humiliated beyond words at the cellphone store. I was too embarrassed to ask questions, such as how to turn the silly thing on and off.
After I left I made a beeline for the grocery store and randomly approached a couple of third-graders to ask for help.
Yesterday, I finally had to break down and ask my son to help with the other stuff.
“What is you Apple I.D.?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I didn’t even know I had one.”
“What apps did you have on your old phone?”
“I don’t know what an app is,” I said with a blank face. “I don’t think I had an app. If I did, it was purely accidental.”
“What’s the password for your Wi-Fi?” he asked.
Again, I sat there staring at him, like he was an alien.
“Where’s the paperwork on your TV?” he asked.
“I threw it away,” I said.
“Ma, you should never throw that stuff away.”
“I didn’t know anything about it,” I reasoned. “So I would never have a reason to read it.”
“What about the password for your blah-blah?” my daughter-in-law asked. “And your bleh-bleh.”
“I don’t know about any of that stuff,” I said sadly. “I do well to remember my name.”
“Don’t you write down the passwords?” they asked in unison.
“Obviously, the answer is a big fat no,” I said.
“What do you do when you can’t remember the password?” my daughter-in-law asked.
“I just make up a new one,” I said. “It works out OK.”
“We will add the new passwords to the notes section on your phone,” my son said. “When you can’t remember them just check there.”
“I also need help with creating a personal greeting,” I said.
My kid fiddled with the phone for three seconds and said, “OK, just record your message.”
“I’m not in the mood to do that right now.”
“Ma, why do you need to be in a certain mood?” he asked with a laugh. “Just go ahead and record it.”
“I said I can’t do it right now. I am just not in the mood.”
They tried nicely to hide it, but I saw that they had facial tics as they said goodbye.
I had a big monster headache myself.
And then it suddenly occurred to me that I had no idea where the “notes” part of my phone was located.
At the same time though, I wasn’t interested in trying to find out.
I just wasn’t in the mood.