Why Am I So Technologically Challenged?

It’s 2016. And I feel like my Dad. Why do I have such a problem with technology? I’m 38. I should be rocking all these modern day advances. But I’m not. Not even close.

When I was a kid I knew how to operate that VCR like no one’s business. I can remember the pride I saw in my father’s eyes when I could put a VHS in and generate a motion picture. I distinctly remember him regaling his friends with stories about how I could “make that machine work”. He was so proud.

I peaked at an early age. Those days are now over.

I have an iphone 6. It has about 10 billion apps on it. It could probably clean my house for me, if I knew how the hell to work it. I use it for texting, emailing, actual phone calls, picture taking, and writing my grocery list. That’s it. I would love to figure out how to use the voice to text. But my brain just doesn’t work that way.

My kids use it for FaceTime, watching movies, talking to Suri like she’s their real mom. Me: what’s the problem, what do you need? Them: don’t worry mom, you won’t know, but Suri will. Oh really? Can Suri shove my foot up your ass? I didn’t think so.

I bought my car in 2009. So that’s roughly seven years ago. I still do not know how to program the radio stations. All of them are set to 105.9. I have to manually turn the dial to find some Taylor Swift to rock out to on the way to work.

I can set the clock when it’s daylight savings. But it takes a few days of playing with all the buttons at red lights before I remember how I did it six months prior.

Even those God damn automatic doors give me grief. If you live on my block or have ever parked next to me at the grocery store, you know what I’m talking about. Those damn things are always sliding back open after I have closed them. Or they won’t open all the way because I’ve hit the damn button too many damn times and it just makes this God awful clicking noise. Or they are frozen and everyone has to climb in through the drivers seat and I’m left to sit in a puddle of their melted snow.

Good luck not drowning, kids.
Good luck not drowning, kids.

I do love the ease of the automatic windows. But my kids wouldn’t know how to roll down a manual window if their lives depended on it. If we drove into a lake, I would be the only one to survive if the windows weren’t automatic. But I don’t think it will ever be an issue for them. Because I don’t plan on driving into a lake. And because I don’t see manual windows coming back anytime soon.

The people at Amazon sure know what the hell they are doing. They know their demographic for Amazon Prime is super dumb moms with limited technological skills. Moms whose brains have literally turned to mush. So they made shopping on their website painless. Basically all you have to do is point and everything is delivered the next day. Like magic. Expensive freaking magic.

Having to deal with change is never easy. Especially when we’re talking about time. And resetting the clocks on the 867 electronic devices that are part of my daily routine. Thankfully most of the modern technology takes care of that for me. But that also adds to my bewilderment. I look at my phone and it says one time, but I walk into the kitchen and the microwave and stove say a different time. I’m so confused I don’t know whether I should scratch my watch or wind my butt.

And why do my stove and microwave both need a clock? I need them for the sole purpose of heating hotdogs. My microwave is capable of recording messages. Because that’s what I need. Another device to document the kind of mother I really am. And don’t even get me started on how impossible it is to set both stove and microwave to the exact same time. They’re always a minute off. Just like me.

The remote control situation is also out of hand. I want to watch a show on Netflix. Which sadly has nothing to do with Steven Avery. But I can only find the one remote. In order to access Netflix, I need the other remote to get me there. It’s like when we were kids and my brother would turn on the spanish channel and leave the room and put the remote way up high out of my reach. There’s just nothing I can do about it but cry.

The lights in my office have all of these options. Why can’t they just turn on and then turn off? They can be set for auto which means they go on when someone enters the room. Which is an awesome feature. But when I walk in carrying seven thousand things and it’s not set to automatic, it’s a nightmare. I don’t know how to turn them back on. I sit there in the dark, alone with my thoughts, and think about what my life has become.

It’s amazing how technology has turned me into my dad. I used to look at him with such pity. The same exact look I now see my four year old giving me.

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