Many times in my life, I have thought that I should not be allowed to drive because of how little I know about vehicles. Today, I’m thinking the same about my iPhone.

Last night, my screen went wacky. All the letters were giant, and I couldn’t swipe or minimize anything. Emergency services received an automatic call in my attempt to shut it down for resetting, and my three kids received emergency alarms. I was lucky a big red truck with flashing lights didn’t appear in my driveway.

I left my phone turned off all night, and this morning, I spent two-plus hours on the phone with Apple and Verizon. Apple said my phone was working fine and likely a provider issue. Verizon said, “Apple shouldn’t have told you that.” I said I still had the red SOS (Morse code distress signal) letters showing on the top of my phone, and I feared, by accident again, I would have a repeat of last night’s fiasco. I just wanted the SOS letters to go away on my home screen.

The process of trying to solve the problem made me think of what it would be like to go to the emergency room with a convulsing stomach. The doctor takes my temp, draws blood, checks my feet, feels around my ears, has me walk a straight line, asks me to repeat ten numbers, and then tells me everything is fine and to go home.

“But what about my stomach?”

I know this is a first-world problem, but it gives new depth and width to the word frustration.

I consider myself technically normal, but I’ve just been proven wrong—I have LTK: Lousy Technical Knowledge. Additionally, my voice likely says something about my age, and my hesitant responses to their questions did not convey competence. It makes me wonder if I’m
smart enough to have a smartphone. Not.

We depend too much on those expensive, skinny, little plastic boxes that perform magic. Last night, I had my computer, so I could at least text—but what if? What if the electricity was off for days? What if we had no other means to communicate? I could go on and on, but you get the picture. We would be in deep doo-doo.

I had trouble with my phone one night, and it wasn’t comforting to go to bed without my phone’s security on the nightstand. It was also frustrating to acknowledge how few troubleshooting skills I have.

The last fourteen hours were a lesson in humility and a very effective means of getting phone calls from all three of my kids. I now know what to do when I’m home with only Lucy and a good movie. SOS is there for me.

Until the next time: Live while you live.

Jennifer Goble, Ph.D., LPC, is the author of “My Clients…My Teachers,” and the blogger and writer of Rural Women Stories: www.ruralwomenstories.com.

Powered by WPeMatico