I used to have a whole lot of patience for short periods of time, but as I age that ratio seems to diminish and if anything technical is involved, forget it. In that case I start out with a patience deficit that no amount of time can remedy.
The following is a true story. I am not particularly proud of a few revelations contained in the blow-by-blow, but really - I was, and continue to be, sorely tested. You be the judge.
Wednesday
1. Tried to open email at 7am. Failed.
2. Tried a couple more times. Unsuccessful.
3. Rebooted.
4. Tried again. Failed.
5. Called Help Desk. Told to reset modem but that I would lose my personal "Helper" along with the land line so gave "Helper" my cell phone number. "Helper" promised to call me on cell phone with further instructions.
6. Reset modem. Lost land line. Realized cell phone completely dead. Could not find charger. Helper-less.
7. Unsure of next step and out of patience, I ripped off front of desk drawer. This did not help.
8. Called Help Desk back on husband's cell phone. New technician provided complete instructions.
9. Reset modem.
10. Email opened.
11. Inbox contained 10 email attachments - 10 large file photos which needed to be saved to disc or something for meeting next day.
12. Didn't work.
13. Called meeting contact who agreed to deal with attachments.
14. Opened another 8-page attachment; needed to make 50 copies for next day.
15. Document sent in Word format. I do not have Word. (Shameful.) Opened in WordPad.
16. Format screwed up.
17. Tried to open as another type; failed.
18. Opened document in husband's laptop which has Word.
19. For reasons unknown, husband's computer no longer connected to printer; cannot print.
20. Tried saving document to disc.
21. Failed. Cried.
22. Laboriously reformatted WordPad version in my PC.
23. Attempted to print.
24. Printer out of black ink.
25. Called Walgreen's - they had correct cartridge in stock.
26. Drove to Walgreen's - they had wrong cartridge in stock.
27. While at Walgreen's decided to purchase A/C phone charger since I couldn't locate mine.
28. Inexperienced salesperson tried a couple of chargers; none worked.
29. Got in car to drive to Staples (20 minutes away) to purchase ink cartridge.
30. Attempted to charge cell phone with car charger; port damaged.
31. Realized salesperson at Walgreen's "forced" thus damaging port. Returned to Walgreen's to complain.
32. Drove to Staples; purchased correct ink cartridge.
33. Drove to Verizon. Cannot repair old cell phone. Spent $80 on new cell phone.
34. Postponed purchase of new car charger that will fit new phone.
35. Drove home; changed ink cartridge.
36. Wrestled with formatting issues for another 30 minutes.
37. Printed 8 page document.
38. Drove to copy shop.
39. Jammed 3 copy machines during course of print job.
40. Finished print job.
41. Returned home, poured tall Bourbon and 7-Up.
42. Asked husband to repair desk drawer.
43. Five days later my hard drive failed.
44. Replaced hard drive: $300
45. PC can no longer "find" printer.
46. I am all out of patience.
Il Dolce Far Niente
The sweetness of doing nothing, il dolce far niente, is a wonderful Italian expression that perfectly captures the exquisite gift of living in, and fully appreciating, the moment.
Like most Americans, the ability to live in the moment was for me an abstract idea. Proud of my ability to multitask circles around most people, of my job as director of two hospital departments, of never sitting still for a moment, the concept of "the sweet do-nothing" was at once incredibly appealing and completely foreign.
The concept was foreign, that is, until January 2009 when life intervened and I was abruptly "reorganized" out of my job at the hospital where I worked for almost 20 years.So now, at age 60, here I am living an enforced life of "il dolce far niente." I find myself in the enviable position of having a lot of time on my hands and (initially at least) no idea what to do with it. Although I focus a part of each day doggedly searching for a new job, most of my calendar is so empty it echoes.
But to my surprise, rather than feeling adrift in days without schedules, meetings and agendas, I now know that there is such a richness, such a gift in enjoying each day on its own merit. Rather than controlling my time, I'm learning to allow it to unfold and am almost always pleased with what life presents me.
In this blog, I want to share that richness as I discover the beauty of simple things - while still coming to terms with being unemployed for the first time in my life in an economy that's tanking and where jobs are few and far between. What I hope will evolve through this blog (for you as well as for me) is a true appreciation for another way of living. We'll just have to see how it goes.
Like most Americans, the ability to live in the moment was for me an abstract idea. Proud of my ability to multitask circles around most people, of my job as director of two hospital departments, of never sitting still for a moment, the concept of "the sweet do-nothing" was at once incredibly appealing and completely foreign.
The concept was foreign, that is, until January 2009 when life intervened and I was abruptly "reorganized" out of my job at the hospital where I worked for almost 20 years.So now, at age 60, here I am living an enforced life of "il dolce far niente." I find myself in the enviable position of having a lot of time on my hands and (initially at least) no idea what to do with it. Although I focus a part of each day doggedly searching for a new job, most of my calendar is so empty it echoes.
But to my surprise, rather than feeling adrift in days without schedules, meetings and agendas, I now know that there is such a richness, such a gift in enjoying each day on its own merit. Rather than controlling my time, I'm learning to allow it to unfold and am almost always pleased with what life presents me.
In this blog, I want to share that richness as I discover the beauty of simple things - while still coming to terms with being unemployed for the first time in my life in an economy that's tanking and where jobs are few and far between. What I hope will evolve through this blog (for you as well as for me) is a true appreciation for another way of living. We'll just have to see how it goes.
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1 comment:
I so relate to this!
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