None of our wedding vows Wonder, my wife, agreed to be my IT, or information technology person, or agreed to listen to me mutter, “The beautiful thingamajig won’t cooperate. @#$%$#! No wonder it is called a curse. ”
But since I’m semi-retired, Surprise is my best option to keep a computer running and not smash it with a sledgehammer.
Despite the setbacks, 73% of people 65 and older are now on the internet train. That’s up from 14% in 2000.
This is similar to the Baby Boomer generation in the early 20th century moving from horse and carriage to car. We would jump on the internet to pay bills, look at medical reports, connect with high school friends, play solitaire and Wordle, and argue with complete strangers over whether there should be open carrying of guns. in churches.
I, for one, accepted the technology and gave it a sloppy, wet kiss. Technology responded by slapping me.
One day recently, as I was trying to finish my computer work, Apple News flashed on the screen. “Half of America’s kids‘ own ’a smartphone by the age of 11,” the news headline shouted. Well, bully them, I thought. When I was that age, my main concern was skipping creek rocks and flying “wheelies” on my Stingray bike that wouldn’t soften my face.
I went back to work.
A moment later, Apple News appeared again. “Washington is rated the third most rude state on MoneyWise.com.” Although you are twice as beautiful Walla Walla? I was surprised.
I started working again and another Apple News headline came up. “Washington has the sixth largest population of active military personnel.” Here’s a salute, I think, angry at the interruption. At this rate, I thought, I would do this project the morning of my funeral.
Not all Boomers love the internet. Some do not have a computer or even a cell phone. They are the famous grandparents at birthday parties, because they don’t kneel on the couch and in seconds have faces glued to their phones.
Like them, I was skeptical of technology. Retiring early thanks to a pandemic removal, I am thankful to no longer have to fight at a computer eight hours a day, five days a week, 50 weeks a year. I was no longer dealing with error messages and the epic computer failed the deadline. I no longer have to deal with 30 email messages at a time, many with no more consequences than a moth shining.
Even if I limit my computer time, I still need to update passwords. If the passwords are cow, I am the richest rancher in the Columbia Basin.
Facebook, a bright star in the internet sky, offers its own challenges. The other day, for example, I showed interest in a boat. Now every 10th item in my feed is an advertisement for a boat, so much more modest that “Big Brother” seems to know that my budget is “poorly comfortable.” Little did you know that you could float a boat the size of Davy Crockett’s lunchbox.
If working, I’m in the first name with a help desk. Hi, Adam! Now Wonder has replaced that role, which is fine unless my wife is a fabric artist deep in the neck to make a quilt.
“Just turn off the computer, hon,” he said. “Then turn it on again. That needs to fix it. ”
Usually that works – and even fixes the “curser.” However, failure is felt. I want to throw the computer in the creek and get rock skipping again.