Dear Computer Professional
I am streaming live. All day, every day. What I mean by that is that I live a life that is reality-based. I go outside (yes, I’m brave enough to wander out despite global warming and potential for zombie attack). I interact with actual human beings and other creatures rather than adopt a pseudo persona and try to pick them up in virtual bars or kill them for fake-stealing my car. I frequently, and I know this will be hard to believe, have lunch with friends–and we eat real food and drink real drinks. It’s freaky.
In other words, I’m ancient.
And not only I do not know certain things about the technology in my life, I don’t care. And no matter how far back your roll your eyes or point and laugh with your similarly clad coworkers, you can’t make me care. I care about the environment, dogs (those who live with me, those in need of homes, those strapped to the roof of cars by uncaring politicians), chocolate, friends and family, social injustice, reproductive freedom, chocolate, kittens drinking from the shower, art, music, chocolate… but not upgrading from 3G to 4G. You are speaking robot to me and when I get in my car I roll my eyes at you and point and laugh.
I do not know how to download photos from my smart phone to my computer. In fact, my phone is in the bottom 10% of its class; I prefer it that way so that I can at least be smarter than one piece of technology in my house. Even stranger, I’ve never used it to send a text. That’s right, you heard me! And I have no idea what operating system my computer uses. I figure that’s a private matter between my computer and its maker.
The following sentence does NOT make me hot: The new laptop comes packed with an Intel Core i5-2467M processor, 8GB of RAM, and a 128GB SSD. It also features built-in Wi-Fi 802.11n/a/b/g, a built-in webcam and microphone, and a full-size backlit keyboard. It runs a 64-bit version of Windows 7 Home Premium, and relies on integrated Intel HD 3000 graphics. This one does: His breath is so close and so hot my neck melts a little each time he exhales. As he moves his rough hands from my hair to my shoulders, I lean back against the wall, waiting for his lips to find mine, for his…
The next time I come in to your store and ask you if a piece of technology is good, just nod yes or no. Please do not try to explain why you believe this to be true because in my head your voice sounds like a swarm of locusts hovering right above me, looking for a place to land. And for pete’s sake, don’t try to sell me the warranty. I may be old, but I know that whatever I’ve chosen to purchase will be outdated and no longer manufactured the second I hand over my debit card.
Okay, you may proceed to roll your eyes now. I know I am.