Sometimes Less Is More
I recently found myself in the unenviable position of having to help a relative plan a trip out of town. This relative was considerably older, and although incredibly sweet - or so I thought before this experience - completely computer illiterate. I don't just mean the basic "I'm not sure how to get online" type illiterate, either; we're talking full-blown "Where's the little man inside the computer that says 'You've Got Mail'?"
And if you don't know that reference because you're too young to remember AOL, I will be by later to somehow siphon your youth while you sleep (waitaminute...that sounds naughty...never mind).
My natural inclination, of course, was to hit up some of the discount travel sites to see what I could find. Thanks to a few top3 lists, I was able to narrow things down quite dramatically. The problem didn't arise until I tried to get my relative to sign on and purchase tickets. This was not a happy conversation. Our diatribe rapidly deteriorated from a calm, rational conversation about how to log on to her internet, to a screaming match about the legitimacy of my birth and the probability of me having been the adopted spawn of the underworld (because clearly that's the only being who knows how to work these infernal things).
I second the floggings.
After an hour of the aforementioned insanity, I finally convinced said relative to just give me her information and allow me to handle it for her. The resulting process took 3 minutes and 37 seconds. Once the job was done, the evil biiiiit---my-tongue-just-in-time--- was back to her sweet, innocent self.
After an experience like that, the only thing I could do to make myself feel better involved large quantities of alcohol and scantily clad women.
Added: 12 Mar 2012
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