Human Error

Sorry you're still having problems, the tech support guy - a safe distance away in California - told me reassuringly, I know how frustrated you must be.

Unless you're spending a third of your every day trying to access software and convince the people you work for that you are capable enough and bright enough to type in a simple password, I doubt it! I snapped at him and while I immediately regretted my tone, it made me aware of just how close I was to the edge. I take my work and ability to do it well seriously - having it compromised on a daily basis infuriates me and makes me feel like screaming. Sorry, I told him, without meaning it the least little bit, But I'm at my wits end here.

Three hours of my day had been spent in a futile confrontation with technology that had left me drained, enraged, defensive and worn out. The software, designed to make my life easier and more productive, had clearly become the enemy - Washington crossed the Delaware with less hardship - I was tired, behind in my work, unable to answer the doctor's questions, and seriously at odds with continuing what now appeared to be a useless war with no chance of prevailing. I wanted to be done with it, had in fact been halfway to the door when the call from California finally came. Cut your losses, a voice in my head was saying, There are other doctors and other jobs. Another voice, that of reason and calm protested, That's anger talking, it said, you're overreacting to all this nonsense. Take a breath and settle down.

It's a rare occasion when I follow my own advice but in this case it seemed the only available course. I re-took my seat in front of the hated monitor and began answering his questions, punching keys as directed, and glaring at the screen as if I could evaporate it with a death stare. I watched as he attempted to log in under my name and saw the results - locked out each and every time. A small sense of satisfaction came over me and I began to relax, at the very least someone else now knew that it wasn't simply a case of inadequate or careless keyboarding.

The following morning, due to whatever adjustments he had made over night, all was well. I logged in easily and trouble freely although I preferred to believe it was the effectiveness of the death stare.
Feeling vindicated and proven innocent, I went about my day, level headed and marginally more tolerant of the presence of the evil technology.

I was never moved to such emotional chaos by an abacus and yet I still learned to count.