I'm not talking about that nasty breach of etiquette that came along with the advent of the Web. You know, where people just say whatever comes to mind, with no thought to the consequences of their words? As time and experience with the social nuances of virtual conversation have gone on, most people have learned to be civil. Thank goodness. That was an ugly little blip in time, wasn't it?
No... what I'm talking about is those times when the computer just doesn't do what you expect it to do.
Last night I spent 4 hours (and if you've read the last few entries, you know how precious those hours are) trying to get a program that I've been using for years to work. I found a level of frustration that was here-to-fore unknown. The worst part is that I know this is my own doing. I can follow directions to a T, but if they don't work, I'm doomed to try again and again, pulling out the meager tricks that reside up my short sleeves. It wouldn't be so bad, except it is the program that sorts addresses to get the magazines out. The magazines are here all ready to be sent out, but the mail program freezes the computer when I do anything more than gaze forlornly at the icon. Tech help will contact me soon, and I will have to sound like a blazing idiot to someone who speaks computerese. I speak thing-a-ma-bob.
At some point, this will be fixed. Within a matter of minutes (ok...this might take a little more time than usual because I'm highly peeved) blood pressure will drop back to normal levels, my computer will return to its typical "friendly" mode, and I will all but forget how much I'd like to take a sledge hammer to it. At least that's what I keep telling myself.
Yes... all will be calm. The address labels will be printed and the magazines will be sacked and delivered to the post office, where my favorite postal workers (in Landisville, they are GREAT!) will crack me up with a joke. Soon the magazines will be arriving in shops, and into the hands of subscribers - who will LOVE this issue. Yes... yes... I can see it.