The impossible dream: educating your parents

I love my parents… I really do. It’s just that…

My parents used to live across the country. It was very difficult to get used to not just going over to visit them whenever we wanted. Seeing them involved a long plane ride and fighting in airports. Since we fight perfectly well at home, I don’t see any reason to include airports on the resume.

Shortly after the folks moved, their computer bit the big one. Ever the dutiful son, I threw one together and sent it out to them. They wanted a different mouse or something so I called them to walk them through installing it.

“How do we make it work?”

Plug it in.

“Where?”

In the back.

“Where in the back?”

There’s a connector in the back. It’s the only connector the mouse will fit into.

“I don’t see a connector.”

It’s on EVERY computer put out. You can’t miss it. It’s black.

“I still don’t see it.”

Put Dad on the phone please…

“Hi - what am I doing?”

You need to plug the mouse in.

“Where?”

On the back of the computer.

“Ok, wait til I get under there. I don’t see where you plug it in.”

[counting to four hundred] It’s really the only place you can plug it in on the back.

“There isn’t anything that looks like it will fit.”

Do you see the keyboard?

“Yes.”

Follow the cord to the back of the computer, where it’s plugged in.

“I see it. It’s plugged into the back of the computer.”

Good. Now there’s another jack right next to where the keyboard is plugged in.

“No, there’s nothing there.”

I built it. I know it’s there. There are only three places to plug things in and two have things plugged into them.

“I don’t know what to tell you. Let me put your mother back on.”

Nooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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I am positive that people asked my parents if I was adopted more than once.  At about this point, I started to wonder if maybe I wasn’t related to them after all.  I don’t expect them to be computer experts, but they should theoretically be able to locate a jack and plug something into it.

Fast forward to 2008.  The parents are back in the state to everyone’s relief.  The only bit of confusion is why anyone would want to leave a climate that’s hot and dry for the All Humidity All the Time loveliness that is the Philadelphia metropolitan area.  Thinking about it makes my head hurt.

Now that we’re three fourths of the way through the year, my parents have decided to pursue a business they started in their previous state - dog cookies.   No, they’re not made with real dog.  They’re all natural peanut butter cookies for dogs.  My mother bakes them.

Trust me, if my mom gives the cookies to her dog, they’re very good.  This little child of theirs does not eat dog food for some strange reason.  My mother cooks for him.  I swear to you, this little fellow eats better than most people do.  The lady is a good cook.  I might’ve had pizza for lunch, but he gets a boneless chicken breast, peas, and who knows what else.

The parents sort of fell into a large client or two before they were really ready.   My presence was requested to help with some of the computer and creativity tasks (uh-oh).

There is a laptop, which shall hitherto be known as the Laptop from Hell.  This is where the folks are learning about computers.  When I say learning, I mean  when I go over, they get out the Laptop from Hell and ask me how to do stuff.  I show them and go home.  The next morning they ask my wife the same questions.  One night while I was explaining how to check their email, my mom looked at me and said that she can’t wait to have my wife come over and explain it again for them tomorrow.

In any case, my assistance this day was requested for a brochure/ad to be given out with samples.  I spent four hours attempting to corral two parents and a wife into focusing and telling me what they wanted.  The women talked at each other at the same time.  I tried to ward off the inevitable incoming headache.

Do you have a tagline for the business?  A phone number?  An email address?  Are you doing a website? (”Can we do a website?“).  No, “Your dog will love them” is not a tagline.    We went to check on the email address, at which point I had them log into their provider’s webpage.

Me: How do you get to your provider’s webpage?

Mom: Let’s see…  I think you use that program.

Me:  What program?  Never mind, I got it.  Put in your password.

Mom: I think it’s verizon.net

Me:  No, your password is not verizon dot net.  Didn’t we go through this last time you needed to log in?

Dad:  Isn’t it Password?

Mom:  No, it’s Password one.

Me: I just typed Password and Password one and it won’t accept them.

Mom:  It’s Password two.

Dad: Are you sure it isn’t Password one.  I thought it was Password one.

Mom:  It’s Password two.

Me: Ok, I got in with Password two.  You need to write that down somewhere.  I can’t help you if you don’t know your own passwords.

Mom:  It’s Password two.

Me:  Yes, I think I said that.   Ok, I got it all fixed.  These are your email addressed.  This will be your web address.

Mom:  What’s a web address?

Dad: What’s a web address?

Me: That’s where your webpage is going to be.

Dad: Do we have a webpage?

Me: No, but after it’s designed, that’s where it will be.  I put it on your brochure, meaning that we’re going to have to get that designed sooner than later.

Mom: I have to bake two hundred and forty two dog cookies for tomorrow.

Wife: We can help.  I’ll bring ourMixer of Death, which is still smaller than yours.

Mom: No, there’s no room.

Me: We can put it in the dining room.  It will help make the cookies faster.

Mom: No, there’s no room.

Me: Ok, just offering.  I know you’d much rather suffer and stand on your recently operated-upon foot than allow your kids to help you produce a ton of dog cookies by tomorrow.

Mom: Very funny.

Me:  So what else do you want on this brochure?

Mom: Aren’t you coming to the table for dinner?

Me:  Eventually.  I’d like to get your brochure done first.  Do you have the pictures of the dog so we can include them?

Dad: We have some really old ones that are good.

Me: Are they on the camera?

Dad:  No, we just have the pictures.

Me:  Ok, well, I don’t have a scanner in my back pocket so you had better forget about that idea for now.  Or take some pictures of Dad Jr now and we can take them off the camera.

Dad: Can’t we just take a picture of the picture?

Me:  It will really look crappy.

Dad: That’s what we did with the stickers.

Me: Yes, they’re tiny.  No one will notice.  The brochure is 8.5×11″.

Mom: Dad, get the camera.  What do you mean you don’t know where it is?

Dad: I found it.

Me: Put him in a well-lit spot with a solid darker background because Dad Jr is all white.

Dad:  How’s this?

Me: Fine, if you want most of the dog to be a shadow.

Wife: I’ll help.

Me: [internally]  Uh-oh.

Wife: How’s that?  No, wait.. he looked away.

Mom:  Here Junior.  Here Junior.  Here Junior.  Here Junior.  Here Junior.  Here Junior.

Me:  Do you think he might be ignoring you?

Mom:  Here Junior.  Here Junior.  Here Junior.  Here Junior.  Here Junior.  Here Junior.

Wife:  Here Junior.  Here Junior.  Here Junior.  Here Junior.  Here Junior.  Here Junior.

Me:  Ok, let’s just take a picture of the picture, ok?

Mom:  Here Junior.  Here Junior.  Here Junior.  Here Junior.  Here Junior.  Here Junior.

Wife:  Here Junior.  Here Junior.  Here Junior.  Here Junior.  Here Junior.  Here Junior.

Me:  I SAID, LET’S JUST TAKE A PICTURE OF THE PICTURE, OK?

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It’s at about this point that you’re waiting for me to say, “And then, things started going downhill.”

But I’m not going to.  Things actually improved immediately, but I suspect the reason was the application of several very good corned beef sandwiches to four growling stomachs.

We left their house with all brochure and business card creation complete.  All they needed to do was to finish making the four hundred eighty seven dog cookies and print out however many brochures they needed.

And that’s when things went downhill.

---

It was about ten in the morning when the call came.   The printer would only spit out the wrong thing.

Huh ?

They kept telling it to print a brochure and it wanted to print business cards instead.

Huh ?

Now I’ve heard of computers doing some pretty weird stuff, but this gets a little too close to sentience for my comfort (especially if it involved Windows).  I figured it had experienced a minor aneurysm and advised them to reboot the Laptop from Hell and it would be fine.  Have fun - I’ll talk to you later.

[5 minutes later]

Mom: It’s still printing out the wrong thing.

Me: What happens when you try to print out the right thing?

Mom: It prints out the wrong thing.

Me: Ok, hit the START button.

Mom: Hold on.  Wait, I’ll give the phone to your dad.

Dad: Yes?

Me: I told Mom to hit the START button.

Dad:  Is that on the keyboard?

Me: No, it’s at the bottom left of your screen.  Click it with the mouse.

Dad:  Hold on, I have to get my glasses.

Me: $E(R*WE#W*#&@@@@&*$^&$^#@

Dad: Ok.  What do you want me to do?

Me: The START  button.

[the entire time this is going on, Mom is making all sorts of `helpful' comments to Dad in the background and Wife is looking at me as if she knows exactly the pain I'm feeling.]

Dad: Ok.  Wait - the computer keeps telling me there’s a connection problem.

Me: Yes.  Hit the START button.

Dad: I can’t see a START button.

Me: Ok, let’s try this another way.  I need you to open up your email program and check for an email from me.

Dad: I don’t know, let me ask your mother.   How do we get email?

Mom:  Use the program called Email.

Dad: Ok, wait…. it’s up.  What now?

Me: Look for a message from me.

Dad: Ok, let’s see… Bob… Aunt Stella… Viagra…   Nope - nothing from you.  Where would it be?

Me: Right up top.  Your newest message.

Dad: Nope.  Nothing from you.

Me:  Did you hit CHECK MAIL?

Dad: No, what’s that?

Me:  It’s the button right up top that tells the program to go out and pick up any new mail.

Dad: Where is it?

Me:  It’s right up top.  It’s got a little picture on it.  CHECK MAIL.

Dad: I don’t see it.

Me:  Let me explain this.  I am going to remote-control your pc from my house but you have to open the email with the link to click on so you can go to the site that will allow me to control the Laptop from Hell.

Dad:  Ok, I hit it but there’s nothing from you.

Me:  OMG…

Me:  Ok, one last try.  Look at the bottom right of the screen for a little printer.

Dad:  I don’t see one.

Me: The little row of pictures.  Put the cursor over each one and tell me what it says.

Dad:  Uhhh… antivirus… this one doesn’t say anything.  No printer.

Me:  Ok, bring up Internet Explorer and I’ll send you to the site manually.

Dad:  Where’s that?

Me:  Hit the START button… PROGRAMS…

Dad:  The START button…  ok, wait a minute.  Ok.

Me: Now go to PROGRAMS.

Dad:  There is no PROGRAMS.  Wait, yes there is.

Me: Now click on the blue E.

Dad:  Ok, I did, but Printmaster is coming up.   What is Excel?

Me:  It’s a spreadsheet that you don’t need to worry about at this moment.

Mom:  Let ME do it.   I don’t understand why Excel came up.

Me:  Did you bring up Internet Explorer?

Mom: Well, I clicked on it, but Excel and Printmaster came up.

Me:  Ok, that makes perfect sense.   Are we related to any exorcists?

Mom:  I’m going to throw this computer through the window.

Me:  It might not be the computer.

Mom:  Internet Explorer just came up.

Me: Thank the heavens.  Type in this address… www.

Mom: Wait a minute.  Ok, www dot…  It says it can’t find the page.

Me: Let’s try again.  Type www dot…

Mom:  Ok, what  do I do?

Me:  Type www dot…

Mom:  Ok, www dot… it’s  still not working.

Me:  OK, I GIVE UP.  I HAVE TO COME OVER.  IT WAS SILLY OF ME TO THINK THAT I COULD TALK TWO ADULTS THROUGH ATTEMPTING TO FIND AN EMAIL, WEBSITE, OR PRINTER CABLE.

Me to Wife:  I JUST LOST AN HOUR OF MY LIFE TALKING ON THE PHONE, TRYING TO DIAGNOSE  A SIMPLE COMPUTER ISSUE TO AVOID HAVING TO DRIVE OVER THERE.  NOW I HAVE TO DRIVE OVER THERE ANYWAY.  HAS ANYONE SEEN MY WEEKEND?

Wife:  I know… I’m sorry.  Tell them I said hi.

---

I proceeded to lose another three hours attempting to drive there, diagnose the Laptop from Hell, fix the issue, and go home.  It turned out to be jobs stuck in the print queue.  Due to having a Lexmark printer, they were cursed with a Lexmark printer driver.  This driver is more concerned with telling you it’s printing than letting you actually manage the print jobs.  There was no info whatsoever in the provided (alleged) help to tell us how to kill a job.  It hid the Windows print icon so I had to go fishing to find and kill the job.

My parents asked me what I found.

“You know how people stand at an elevator and keep repeatedly stabbing the button, hoping that will make the elevator come faster?”

Yes.

“It’s very similar to printing.  When you don’t see your printout, you keep hitting PRINT until you see something.  It doesn’t help and you eventually wind up with ten of the same print jobs in the queue that are stuck and nothing will print.”

Oh.

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The phone rings ten minutes later.  I told my wife to tell whoever it was that I had taken the night off dead.  My wife did what she always does for anybody who asks for me: she handed me the phone immediately.

Dad:  You’re not gonna believe this but it happened again.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA>…