THE GREYING OF AMERICA: Making It Work For You

It’s not just the graying of America.  It’s the wising up, too.  If we’ve got to wear the moniker of “boomer” we may as well make some noise…even if it may sound like whining.    

I’ve found numerous ways to make the whole age thing work for me.  I just got off the phone with a wonderful young man at the phone company.  Having overcome the very real desire to ask to speak to someone who shared my first language, I was launched into a mind-boggling comparative analysis of rate plans, speeds of connectivity, and bundling options.  I’d absorbed all that I possibly could, taken as many notes as a doctoral candidate, hummed my own version of “I Am Woman Hear Me Roar,” and was on the brink of flying off the top edge of the learning curve, when I heard myself say, “Don’t sell me anything you wouldn’t want

Photo by Juhan Sonin

your mother to have.”  (Did I mention this sweet young voice sounded - and turned out to be - younger than some of my shoes?)   And as if that weren’t shocking enough, I followed up with … ”or God will get you.”  A laugh is very important at this juncture because placing curses on people is counterproductive.

I’ve found that kids (er, young people) are so taken aback by the maternal reference that technological information is delivered in slower cadence and more dulcet tones.  It’s distilled and shared in more palatable, bite-sized chunks.  The patience level (for both of us) is elevated, and most importantly, I’ve found that I’m talking to someone in which I now have implicit trust.  After all who would lie to his mother?! 

This kinder, gentler voice not only gave me 2 months of free local service, but waived the service and line connection fee.  I was able to speak (at least marginally) intelligently to the issue of wireless routers and modems.  (Haven’t I spent enough time listening to my four sons-in-law at Thanksgiving dinners?)  But I fear he could hear me pouting as he asked me to disentangle the interlaced ambiguity of wires and BPBs (black plastic boxes [I can create my own acronym – everyone else does]) which I’d tried to disguise as my wicker hamper.  Count the phone jacks on the back of which one?  I began to curse the day I’d decided to take the leap into the world of digital voice - which brought still another glowing wonder into my hamper.  There’s a satisfaction guarantee (or was that “risk free”?) to determine that my wireless router would function properly with this provider’s new system. I received the double assurance from my new friend that I was “obviously clever enough” to handle the CD’d instructions for installation by myself and “would enjoy mastering a new skill.” 

There weren’t enough hours in the day to explain what it’s like to have to scale the walls of Donna Reed-ville (escaping the limits of the 60’s) in order to venture into the iPod jungle, learn about managing web sites, and master the vagaries of spreadsheets.  He doesn’t realize that I’ve imbibed more high tech knowledge in the last 5 years, than I did in the first 55 years of my life.  When I did inquire into whether or not the guarantee would extend into my not killing myself if this mélange of wires didn’t function properly, he rather somberly assured me that he would never suggest anything to his mother that would lead her to that.  (I couldn’t believe he’d given credence to my playing of the mother card!)

I did sense a little shutter when I suggested that perhaps he’d like to come install my newest collection of pulsating green lights destined to connect me to the universe through his service provider.  He has, after all encouraged me to take my technological life quite literally in my own hands.  “But I’m in Nebraska” was his plaintive reply.  (Did I detect a note of genuine familial regret in his voice?)

It’s nice to think that all my connections will work harmoniously…that dream of having a provider that really does provide (not just promise) all the services needed to function in this ADHD’d environment.

But right now I have to go back into my bedroom and unbraid the maze of coaxial cables, phone lines, and extension cords that form the nest in which my 3 BPB’s snuggle, lights blinking happily away.

Next week when my new modem arrives, I’ll rejoice in knowing that while I’m “expanding my horizons,” somewhere in Nebraska is a nice young man feeling happy to have helped make my life a little better…he even gave me his direct number.  Surely he didn’t think that after all my technological successes up to this point, I’d do something foolish!