I got an iPad for Christmas. Yes, I am one of those people now. In a different time you might have spotted me in a cafe showily opening and closing the protective case while sipping a cappuccino and ‘working’. You might also have seen me muttering obscenities under my breath while unpeeling and re-peeling the protective screen to access the home button after I bought the wrong size screen protector. You may have considered sitting at the next table, thought better of it and moved to a booth out of earshot.
One of those people
In truth the iPad was a Christmas gift that didn’t arrive until after Christmas due to various minor inconveniences such as the ports being full of PPE leaving no room for imports. Something like that, it’s a confused picture. The important thing is that I get my overpriced Apple hardware before the country gets deliveries of lifesaving medicines.
I should say that this isn’t a shiny new toy on which to spiral into a pathetic Candy Crush addiction. Been there, done that. Far from it. I have an Apple pencil so I will actually be working in my hypothetical cafe. I will also be muttering genuine obscenities under my breath as I struggle with the learning curve that accompanies any new piece of kit. If it wasn’t clear before now, I am not a technically savvy person.
Just the other evening I was streaming Parks & Rec from my new toy to the telly. I accidentally pressed the Source button on the TV remote cutting away from the show. I panicked, wailed and randomly jabbed more buttons leading to a confusing maze of sub menus. Phil glanced at me with a mixture of pity and contempt reserved for watching a very drunk person fish the remains of their kebab out of the gutter.
“What are you doing?” she asked, yanking the remote from my grasp and calmly returning us to our regularly scheduled program.
In that moment I glimpsed the world through her eyes. How does this helpless mewling infant cope with real life if he can’t even operate a simple TV remote?
Easy. I ask her to do it for me.
As I did a day or two later when I was about to throw the gadget at the wall in a fit of rage quit while wrestling with a Docusign document. Turns out you can’t edit a Docusign document after it is completed. Who knew? Everyone, it turns out. It was just me pointlessly trying to make the technology do the thing it wasn’t designed to do, cursing and gesticulating like a maniac.
How we all feel after filing a W-8BEN
I have finally reached an accomodation with, if not an assimilation of, the new machinery. My blood pressure has settled back down and I am no longer hugging my knees to my chest, rocking to and fro while weeping, “Why doesn’t it work like Photoshop 2.5?”
It turns out the Photoshop app is little better than Tux Paint.
Expertise may never be achieved but I am no longer accidentally deleting my own work. That is my baseline of competance, everything after that is a bonus. I even bought a screen protecter that fits. I let the old one slip down the side of the sofa where every stray hair, speck of dust and crud permanently glued itself to the sticky side.
Which reminds me, I really should hoover under there some day.
Technology helped bring Kerry and the Knight of the Forest and The Book Tour to you. Now you can harness the mighty power of technology to give them a positive review at the obvious places online where books are reviewed and sold. This is as helpful and easy as using Photoshop 2.5. It deludes editors and publishers into believing I am a beloved and successful author and they will acquire more of my books. This will remain our secret, they need never know the sordid truth.