It’s been a slightly trying arrival into 2020. My 10-year-old MacBook chose not to celebrate the holidays.
I’m not sure what prompted me to go with an Apple 10 years ago. Probably input from friend who went to high school with Steve Jobs. Possibly the promise of no viruses. And my little laptop had served me faithfully, well past the time when many things hit their obsolescence. Having such a dated bit of technology became a point of pride. I would sometimes take it into the Apple store, just to see the young staffers wince.
But I had been expecting its demise of late. It had gotten quite reluctant to do any number of tasks and moved very slowly on those it would do. I had begun research on a less-expensive PC to replace it, trying to be penny-wise. I turned to the “experts” and made a decision, but when they tried to transfer my data, “Computer said ‘no.’” On to purchase two, with advice from my tech-savvy, PC-loving daughter. The next PC did talk to my Mac and home I skipped, prepared to master the nuances of a not-Apple computer.
I have used a PC, but not recently. In fact, I cut my teeth on them back in 1973, and retrained three or four more times on different versions at different newspapers. I could find my way around it, but that just sucked me into a false sense of security. I spent a full week trying to make it my friend, but the new creature was just too high-strung and temperamental.
I knew where to find everything, but it seemed I had to manage way too many extra steps to get there. The biggest hurdle, however, was the touchpad. Apparently, I use a touchpad much like I drive. Heavy foot, heavy fingers. Unintentional touches kept sending me flying off to places and settings that mystified me. Often, getting back to my original intent was a serious challenge. I may have muttered copious curses. I truly gave up when the PC mysteriously changed the language on my Facebook page to German and refused to let me change it back (Autsch!).
I agonized about it, getting opinions from my resident expert — my daughter — and then called that same friend of Steve Jobs. “Well, “ she laughed. “Having an Apple is much like living at the Hotel California.” She was teasing, but for me it rang true — especially after 10 years. She then turned my attention to the world of refurbished computers, and I was a happy woman.
I felt so guilty returning the PC, after all the time and effort to get all my data transferred, and days of trying hard to get on easy footing with it. I hate to admit defeat and I reassure myself that I could have, and would have, eventually mastered it. I just wasn’t up for the learning curve.
Be kind to me, PC fans. Don’t chastise or write me mean letters. I am well aware of my limitations. I hold no grudge and am aware of the positive side of PCs. However, I would offer that life is demanding enough without adding extra, unnecessary struggles. I’m a big fan of the shortest route to simplicity and the absence of gnashing my teeth.
Jean Gillette is a freelance writer who is content to go on living in the Hotel Apple. Contact her at [email protected].
