Battle of the Sexes

by Kevin Tippett

Frankly, when it comes to the Battle of the Sexes, I don't care. Depending upon who you talk to, man was first, woman was second. Then again, there are folks that believe it the other way around, and that's fine by me, too. Like I say, I don't care. To me it's pretty much two heads of the same coin. Or maybe it's more like who came first, the chicken or the egg? Me, I'd rather be an egg (insert off-color joke here). If there's a debate about leaving the toilet seat up or down, my only response is that if you're too stupid to look before leaping -as it were- then you shouldn't be using indoor plumbing.

The REAL struggle is not between Woman and Man, or even Good and Evil --- it is between tech and non- tech. Bare in mind that my day job is tech support for an outsourcing company, so daily I deal with end-users. Speaking with authority, then, there is no more contested arena, no bloodier a battlefield, than at home. Uh, oops. With technology, I mean. In truth I have been married for ten years, amazingly to the same woman. We compliment each other as does mustard to a pretzel. When it comes to technology, and especially computers, Susan and I are as dissimilar as oil and water, fire and ice, or peanut butter and bologna.

When Susan sits before the computer she becomes so tense that the biological flight or fight mechanism takes hold, and you can almost hear her sphincter clang shut. She'll ask, "Now what?" I'll suggest turning on the computer. "Now what?" "Well, what do you want to do?" "Write a letter to my mother". And so it begins...

45-minutes later it's not a pretty picture. She's clenching, I'm sweating, and our dog and two cats are looking at road maps trying to find an exit to anywhere. This scenario has been replayed numerous times. For awhile we reached a mutual agreement: I would shut up and leave whenever she got within five feet of the PC. This arrangement worked wonders, largely because she never went near the thing.

Then one day she found out her aunt is surfing the 'net. When she told me I felt a deep, dark foreboding. I knew what to expect: "I want to get on the Internet".

After four years in the Navy, in the fleet, I know how to play poker. And because I can never keep the rules straight as to what beats what, I know how to bluff. I looked her straight in the eye, and with nary a twitch said, "Excellent". Meanwhile my inner child ran screaming from the room.

Fortunately, Susan's Aunt Maggie gave her a tutorial on surfing the 'net. I don't know what was involved, as I was banished from their presence. I don't know why, really. I'm a good teacher, kind and patient. Many times as Susan was struggling to master the concept of "click" I would pat her fondly on her head and say, "My, my, but you're doing well". When we got home from Maggie's, Susan hopped on the PC, dialed up my ISP, launched Netscape, and hit the web. Watching her I realized the truth: she just wanted to turn the key and drive. Style and understanding was of secondary concern. When she got to a search engine, I suggested she try a Boolean search. "If you want to find something, say 'Cajun recipes', try typing 'Cajun', 'and', and 'recipes'". My wife flashed me a look of contempt, turned back to the monitor, and careened on her way.

As of this writing, the gap between Susan and me has narrowed. She has actually made a purchase on-line (and the item was even delivered), and with the help of cartalk.com's "Caroscope" has discovered that she's driving a car that is appropriate for her taste and attitudes. She's playing a stock broker game at etrade.com, and has made/lost thousands of dollars (mythical money, thank heaven). Her day job is as a host for a top-rated radio morning show, and she's starting to cruise looking for inane bits of humor to use on-air, and her email traffic has grown exponentially. I'm very proud of my little techno-muffin of love.

I just wish I could get some time on my damn computer.

The Lighter Side - Previous Columns:
September 20: Go to DOS and type F-D-I-S-K
September 13: Fried at Fry's