Meet our writers

Win $1,000







Reflections April 2012

Moving On

Peripheral Paraphernalia

By Patsy Pipkin

This week has been extremely testy. I went out all by myself and bought a new printer, uncrated it and connected everything according to four pages of instructions in four languages. I looked at all of the pictures before discovering my native tongue.

Computers and various peripheral paraphernalia have caused me to be very dubious of my innate abilities. Now, there is something else I can’t do.

First, it took grandson’s knowledge to get me on Facebook, and I then I discovered that I really don’t have time to “on go” very often, and on top of that he also put a seven-year-old photo of me out there for everybody to see.

I’ll bet those who “friend me” will expect me to look seven years younger the next time we meet, and Heaven knows what seven years does to a woman. Here ye all, if you are the least bit interested, I don’t look like I did seven years ago! I’m trying to console myself with this question. Does any woman look like she did seven years ago?

Don’t even try to tell me that I can go online, delete that photo, and substitute one in real time. I’ll get around to doing that some day. Right now, just keep on telling me I look just like my picture. My mind is stretched to the limit, and I couldn’t replace that picture if I tried.

This week has been extremely testy. I went out all by myself and bought a new printer, uncrated it and connected everything according to four pages of instructions in four languages. I looked at all of the pictures before discovering my native tongue. Everything lit up like it was supposed to and I printed a copy of a letter just to see if it would work. It did, but then I wrote a bit using Microsoft Word, but it wouldn’t print, no matter how many times I told it to.

Taking all my options, I, (1) e-mailed a friend, (2) went online for HP help, and (3) called tech support at the store where I purchased the printer. Somewhere along the installation quagmire I discovered a statement saying: “This printer might not work with Windows XP.”

Of course, that’s exactly what I have. So I called the fix-it-man where I purchased the printer and he said I could go online to HP and get instructions for “changing/overriding/or otherwise making it work.” He even said it was “easy.”

“For me, nothing is easy when it comes to computer and their peripherals.” I replied. “I’m barely off the computer illiterate list. How about I bring it to the store and you fix it for me?”

“Well, we can do that, but we have to charge you $40.”

Thinking it over, and discussing my dilemma with Husband, we decided to splurge, for sanity’s sake. The man on the phone then said the technician has four other computers to work on when he comes in at noon and probably can’t get to mine until Monday. My Monday not being completely full-up, we made a date.

I was there for the entire process. I wanted to watch this “easy” process that I had worked on every spare moment for a week.

Now, between Friday afternoon and Monday, I have no excuse for not cleaning up my office, but . . . before I even got started, I spied the little bitty printer that came free with my laptop and that has never given me a bit of trouble. So here I sit, writing and printing instead of cleaning. I don’t know what I used for an excuse to not clean before this computer took control of my life.

Anyway, during my trip to the computer expert on Monday, I learned that he can’t work on my computer! Since I bought it from a friend, who had her own business and has since moved to Texas, I’m on my own. I’ve been advised to contact the printer’s website and beg for assistance. If I get up the courage to do so, I’m going to learn a lot. Mr. Expert also informed me that perhaps I can find help at a local fix-it shop.

Well, I’m going online and tell my woes to the first person who will listen. My only hope is to reach an understanding “older” woman who speaks my language, both English and Computer, but I’ll bet they don’t hire many like that!


Patsy Pipkin writes from her home in Searcy, Arkansas
.


Meet Patsy