One of the inspector's computers had a total meltdown the other day at work. I could go into specifics that would only bore and confuse most that are not into tres geek.
So I go to swap the puters out, and this new kid in IT tags along. I say kid because he is 22 years old, but acts about 12. He also has the whole Eddie Haskell syndrome going on. This inspector is about 60 years old, and scared to death of computers. I assure her that she did nothing to cause this, and that she is doing an excellent job.
She asks, "What happened to it?" I reply, "It crashed." IT boy starts rambling on to the inspector about the error message and talking about CPU's and motherboards and a bunch of stuff she will never understand. She looks at me all confused and I say, "It's dead", while I give IT boy a dirty look.
On the way back to my lab IT boy starts rambling about the stupid computer. He then tells me that "It's dead" or "It crashed" isn't exactly a professional answer.
I stop for a moment and ponder on how long it will take me to make this boy cringe in fear every time he sees me. I'm guessing a week. Anyway...
I try to explain to him that a lot of the people here are older and are afraid of computers. Trying to explain things they do not understand and do not need to understand only confuses them and makes them more fearful of the computer.
To this he replies, "Well why lower your intellect because people are not as intelligent as you?"
"How smart are you if what you are saying is not understood by anyone around you?" I ask.
This statement shot me straight back into the past. It is funny how you forget things in life as you get older, only to be reminded of things when statements like this come flying out of your mouth.
I was labeled a "gifted" child, and surprisingly enough have a very high IQ. I think I talk about it somewhere in the early posts of my blog, but whatever. Part of my education growing up was private, to keep my brain active since school didn't stimulate me as much as it should.
English has always been my talent, and I excelled in Literature and writing. When I was around 7 I started speaking with a vocabulary most adults would have a hard time following.
This created a bit of tension in the household, because my parents did not see eye to eye on this matter. I think my Father was worried about me getting labeled a "freak" or something by my peers, and my Mother, who always wanted to be an English teacher, was incredibly proud.
My Father's fears were realized one day when I came home all upset from school because some of the girls didn't want to play with me at recess because I was using "big words" they didn't understand all the time.
So my Mom immediately goes into some tirade about not dumbing myself down for others and giving into peer pressure and blah blah blah.
My Father, on the other hand, asks me, "You are very smart, right?" I nod my head yes. "How smart are you if what you are saying is not understood by anyone around you? You can use big words if you are around people that will understand them, but if you can't communicate with people that is not being very smart."
This is why my Father is like the greatest person on Earth. He is just such a realist and could always talk to me in a language that I could not only understand, but really contemplate.
With this great memory given back to me like a present from the past, I decided to let IT boy have two weeks before I make him cower in fear at the mere sight of me.
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