Help! My “That was Easy” Button is Broken! ©

Dumbfounded, I wasn’t sure what to do next. I’d put my coins in the vending machine and pressed B 0 – nothing happened. I pressed those buttons again. Nothing! Then I noticed the LED readout: “Make another choice.” I couldn’t see another choice for the chips I wanted. All I could see was the package that wouldn’t drop from its row. My irritation factor rose from 3 to 9.

A young woman came to my rescue. “Pick B 4,” she said. I looked at B 4. Sure enough, it was exactly the same product. Down the chute it came. Easy! I was so grateful.

As I walked back to my chair in the spiritual workshop I was attending, the metaphor struck me upside the head. How many times in my life had I chosen the tough, go-it-alone route, the path of struggle, of bare survival, when I could have simply asked for help?

Was it not time to “make another choice”?

Like a stubborn “I want to do it myself” four-year old, I have been fiercely independent for most of my life. If something wasn’t working, I’d spend hours in frustration trying to figure it out. Some of the time I’d have to give up, but once in a while I’d succeed. Then victory was sweet! See! I did it – all by myself! (Usually the investment of my precious time was not worth all that effort.)

Of course it’s human nature to want the thrill of victory that occurs when we overcome some obstacle. As a Baby Boomer, I hate to admit that my victories with technology have been few and far between. I confess I’m the low tech tool in the high tech shed. It’s not that I can’t learn – it just takes so damn long. Forget the romance of technology.  I demand a divorce. One instance comes to mind.

Take my cell phone for example – please! That fool thing has more apps and buttons than the space shuttle. I sarcastically asked the clerk, “But does it actually make a phone call?”

My friends, particularly the younger ones, keep  me to keep in touch. I struggle valiantly to reply, but my fingers fumble over the tiny keys. Spelling mistakes abound. I hit the send button by mistake. Oops – didn’t mean to say that! I give up and dial the number – sheer relief washes over me when a real person answers. (Note to self – there are no more dials on phones; those went the way of the dodo bird.)

I’m tired of learning curves that are steeper than Mount Everest. I admit it. I long for easy street – where things just magically happen because I wish them to. “Make it so, Number One,” said Captain Picard. Obviously his “that was easy” button worked – at least on T.V.

Hmm. Now here’s a novel idea. What if I ask for help more often instead of being the lone stranger? Might that be the ticket to easy street? It’s worth a try. I think I’ll just make another choice!