Corporate Peon: Technical Support

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Technical Support

Here I am. On the phone. With my pops. Talking him through Blogspot.

I know what you're thinking - what's to talk through? It's been 26 minutes so far. And counting.

He used to be a technical guy, but lately...I don't know.

"Dad, the blog shows created by Kate's Dad because that's what you created it under."

"No, I had a different name."

"No, dad, really. Sign out of whatever you're in, log back in as Kate's Dad, and see what blogs come up."

(Pause for 10 minutes while I have to talk him through resetting his password.)

"Oh, look, there's my blog."

"Right. If you're going to use different logins for different display names, you might want to write down or email yourself with the login name and password you used for each."

"I know what I used - Kate's Dad, I know that, I don't need to write it down."

And on, and on and on, for 45 minutes. The whole concept of user names and display names was apparently a lot to comprehend.

I was patient. I love my dad, and it's not often I can help him learn something new. He asked for some blogs to look at ("since you don't want me reading yours (and I fully respect that) to see the varieties possible. (I'm guessing that if they link to yours, I wouldn't know which is yours anyway) ... but if you like I'll promise not to check any links."

He's a good guy, my pops.

But then he says things like, "Mom mentioned you and E had a falling out at work."

"Yeah, we had a disagreement yesterday."

"Well, get over it!"

Oh. Um. Gee. Thanks.

He wants to frame an article about my sister that one of the big papers ran recently, so we talked about some different options for that. I told him that - despite having read the article online and conversing with my sister about it - she mailed me a copy. So I could see the pictures of her that didn't show online. And then she called me at 10:30 last night because I hadn't called her once I received it.

"Be nice to your sister!"

Um. Yeah. I am. I just found her behavior a bit ridiculous, but apparently I'm not allowed to express that.

I'm not doing well this week, and it's getting harder and harder to pretend I am.

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