A Woman's Reach Should Probably Not Exceed Her Grasp, Or My Trip to the Apple Store
DIH is once again making an all-out assault on her lack of computer skills. So far it is going abut the way she anticipated it would.
My latest effort was yesterday. I signed up for "Get To Know Your iPhone," Level 2. At 3:30 in the afternoon I dutifully showed up at the Apple Store.
I can't remember the last time I took one of the A- Store's free classes, but things have definitley changed over the years. I can remember when these classes were full of young professionals. Everyone in the class I went to yesterday was a grandparent, I think.
The instructor asked all to introduce themselves and state what brought them to class. I was delighted to hear one woman voice a thought I've had many times: "My phone was fine until my daughter fixed it..." Yeah. I hear ya, sister. Dang younger generation and their upgrades. They just spread chaos everywhere, don't they?
The instructor a twenty-something young woman who, I swear, had eyes like Claudia Cardinale, was a pleasant sort who was apparently used to audiences like this one. She very tactfully asked a few people if they could hear her, for example. She even more tactfully nudged a woman in a wheelchair, who had fallen asleep. "You okay? You back? I'll tell you what you missed later."
But there was not much she could do about the silver-haired gentleman who was seated on my right. The instructor forgot his name; he took offense. The instructor mentioned "your phone," He took offense at that too. "It's my wife's phone." After the third or fourth angry "Oh, perfect" the guy muttered under his breath, she finally said, "Well, maybe you need to call Apple Support." He glared at her. "Oh, goody. I can hardly wait."
I could see his point. After about half an hour of computer talk DIH's brain gets overloaded, and these classes are ninety minutes long. I felt his pain. I didn't ever want to hear anything about how to use the Calendar app again, either. Also we weeree akl sitting on these backless wooden cubes, kind of straining. I wondered how much the grandam in the corner would take for a turn in her wheelchair.
In all fairness I probably shouldn't have signed up for a Level 2 class. I probably should have stuck with Level 1. I've taken that class half a dozen times, at least. I feel comfortable there. I thought I had the basics down. You know, phone calls, emails, taking cute little pictures and them forgettting all about them.
But it turns out Apple is always coming up with new "basics." So I may never get out of Level 1, no matter how many classes I go to.
I have an appointment at the Genius Bar tomorrow. Goody. I can't wait.
My latest effort was yesterday. I signed up for "Get To Know Your iPhone," Level 2. At 3:30 in the afternoon I dutifully showed up at the Apple Store.
I can't remember the last time I took one of the A- Store's free classes, but things have definitley changed over the years. I can remember when these classes were full of young professionals. Everyone in the class I went to yesterday was a grandparent, I think.
The instructor asked all to introduce themselves and state what brought them to class. I was delighted to hear one woman voice a thought I've had many times: "My phone was fine until my daughter fixed it..." Yeah. I hear ya, sister. Dang younger generation and their upgrades. They just spread chaos everywhere, don't they?
The instructor a twenty-something young woman who, I swear, had eyes like Claudia Cardinale, was a pleasant sort who was apparently used to audiences like this one. She very tactfully asked a few people if they could hear her, for example. She even more tactfully nudged a woman in a wheelchair, who had fallen asleep. "You okay? You back? I'll tell you what you missed later."
But there was not much she could do about the silver-haired gentleman who was seated on my right. The instructor forgot his name; he took offense. The instructor mentioned "your phone," He took offense at that too. "It's my wife's phone." After the third or fourth angry "Oh, perfect" the guy muttered under his breath, she finally said, "Well, maybe you need to call Apple Support." He glared at her. "Oh, goody. I can hardly wait."
I could see his point. After about half an hour of computer talk DIH's brain gets overloaded, and these classes are ninety minutes long. I felt his pain. I didn't ever want to hear anything about how to use the Calendar app again, either. Also we weeree akl sitting on these backless wooden cubes, kind of straining. I wondered how much the grandam in the corner would take for a turn in her wheelchair.
In all fairness I probably shouldn't have signed up for a Level 2 class. I probably should have stuck with Level 1. I've taken that class half a dozen times, at least. I feel comfortable there. I thought I had the basics down. You know, phone calls, emails, taking cute little pictures and them forgettting all about them.
But it turns out Apple is always coming up with new "basics." So I may never get out of Level 1, no matter how many classes I go to.
I have an appointment at the Genius Bar tomorrow. Goody. I can't wait.
Comments
Post a Comment