marblehead

my parents were baby-boomers, so that helps explain things. other than that, they were fairly normal. my mom, granted, spent most of my childhood pretending to be four years younger than she actually is, but whatever, grown-ups are weird. source: i’m a grown-up now.

i went to marblehead today to help a man do work on his computer. he’d said over the phone that he needed help with formatting in microsoft office, so i figured he had the tiniest bit of knowledge about it, but no. nope. not this time. which isn’t to talk unnecessary smack. the guy seemed perfectly fine, an environmental lawyer who was now going to be [redacted] in his retirement. probably accomplished more than we’ll ever get the chance to, if i’m being honest. which i can’t quite be sure of these days anymore.

so i clicked and dragged icons to the desktop, recommended he never use internet explorer again, showed him how to double-space shit on word. all in all, it was tremendously boring work, but i felt, for a little while at least, helpful.

“you could probably google the library and see if they have classes available,” i said. “or just call them.” he and i had been discussing the merits of phone calls versus text messages briefly, and i hadn’t wanted to get into it.

“is there a trash barrel,” i said, coffee cup in hand.

“yes, it’s downstairs in the kitchen as you make your way out.”

it’s kind of weird interacting with socially awkward people who don’t know how to use computers and it’s even more weird when you’re teaching them how to right click, but anyway, it was especially weird to be like, “uh, okay, thanks [redacted]!” from the landing because dude wouldn’t show me to the door. and made a bad joke about his dog that doesn’t really bear repeating. and had just given me $40, which, okay, i guess that’s the value of a right click and running malwarebytes these days.

the world is so terribly fucked.

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