Tech Trauma - A Cellular Condition

Whoever said what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger hasn’t taken my mother-in-law to Verizon. 

Turns out Nietzsche coined this oft-used aphorism. Apparently, he never met my mother-in-law. Or, more accurately, stood next to her while she balled her hand into a fist and said she wanted to slug the sales associate. Did I mention she’s 90? 

Let me be clear, my mother-in-law has countless amazing attributes. She is an author, an artist, and an activist. But what you really need to know is that her natural habitat is the out of doors.

Go ahead, abandon this woman in the Amazon, she’d be fine! She’d make friends with a poison dart frog while whittling a blowgun. Drop her into the Blue Mountains and she’d construct a lean-to in the first hour. Strand her in the Mojave and she’d find water all while hitting it off with a fringe-toed lizard. I am not kidding. She’s Steve Irwin, Bear Grylls, and that Marlin-Perkins-Mutual-of-Omaha-Wild-Kingdom guy all rolled up into one. She can handle anything from caiman to snakes, just don’t bring her into Verizon.  

I was well aware of the challenge presented as I’m still recovering from last year’s foray into Best Buy when I naively waltzed through their sliding doors thinking, “I’ve got this! I can help with all her tech needs!”

Truth is, I’m the opposite of my intrepid mother-in-law and am exceedingly more comfortable in stores than I am in my own backyard. Give me endless aisles any day. I can navigate a crowd, locate an item, and negotiate a deal in my sleep! What can’t I do? Handle my mother-in-law in an electronics store. It’s as if she’s suddenly in combat where enemy forces appear as flashing screens, fluorescent lights, and unfathomable hardware. 

That day at Best Buy, I watched in alarm as my mother-in-law transformed into a warrior with an attitude problem. Shielding herself from the rays of technology and commercialism, she wasn’t so much Wonder Woman as The Hulk with hemorrhoids. We escaped to the parking lot leaving behind bewildered customers and offended salespeople. I vowed never again.

Never say never. A quote attributed to Charles Dickens, yet another man who never met my mother-in-law. But just like the pain of childbirth, the Best Buy bedlam was erased and I agreed to take her to Verizon. Although, this time, my mission was clear. Get in and out, not as soon as humanly possible, but more like The Flash on speed. 

So there we are, inside the lair of the largest wireless carrier in the U.S. and my mother-in-law is mad. I’m talking capital M mad. She is indignant that the sales representative, let’s call Dave, was not interested in helping us. Yes, he had no warmth or, come to think of it, personality, but is that his fault? 

I could tell my mother-in-law was again in combat mode, but now I wasn’t sure whose side I was on. I picked Dave. He looked less scary. 

As Dave continued to care less, my mother-in-law seethed. Ready to blow, she put the screws to him, grilling Dave about the “bullshit” company policy to attach demo phones to the counter so she couldn’t pick them up. Clearly not up to inquisition, he mumbled, “I like my job.” That’s when I realized, aw, Dave has a sense of humor.

While I assumed the role of mediator, the words “just shoot me now” may never have crossed my lips, but they were among the many thought-bubbles roiling above my head. We eventually left without a phone. And our dignity. Unfortunately, a return visit was in the cards. I’m considering valium.

Do not think bad about my mother-in-law. I owe her tenfold. Like the time we were hiking in Arkansas. As usual, she led the way and cleared my path, knowing the wilderness is my Verizon. As she came upon a huge snake coiled tight, she excitedly waited to show me. Call me Dave at that moment; I too was uninterested and clearly not up to the task. As my fear swirled and I went into my own combat mode, my mother-in-law held my hand and steered me around the terrifying reptile. 

She respected my limitations with understanding. So you see, it’s the least I can do for her. After all, Nietzsche also said, “There is always some madness in love.”

Carole Vasta Folley's In Musing column has won awards from the Vermont Press Association, The New England Newspaper and Press Association, and the National Society of Newspaper Columnists.