Beech Tree News Network

One day at church, my friend, Suzanne, said, “You should never rob people of their experiences.  That’s how they learn.  That’s how we all learn.”

                Since she said that, I’ve thought about that a lot.  I’ve looked back over my own individual experiences and those in which I was a part, and I’ve realized that occasionally, I’ve been robbed, and sometimes I’ve even robbed others.  Let me explain.

                I was raised by very capable parents.  There was very little one or the other of them couldn’t do.  As a result, we children were given only the menial tasks and were never allowed to take on the more complicated ones.  When I married Garey, there wasn’t a lot I knew how to do.  Luckily for me, he was a good teacher. 

                Garey taught me how to cook, how to drive a stick shift and how to use power tools.  He also taught me how to drive the tractor and how to operate the levers on the backhoe, which comes in handy when I have to raise him up in the bucket in order to change the shop lights.  Together, we’ve planted and harvested food, roofed the barn and fenced in the farm.

  It takes a lot of patience to watch somebody do something you know you can do better, but it is important to allow the other person their experiences, because growth is a building process.  You can’t get from point A to point C without going through point B.

Anyone who knows me knows my least favorite part of my job is dealing with technology.  I love the people part, but dealing with computer glitches and breakdowns is maddening.  Our system includes the Lube Soft program, and we have a really good IT support group, ISI, based in Seattle, Washington.  The techs who work there will stay with you until any problem is resolved.  Still, it is mind-bending to stare at a screen or crawl under the desk to check cables and modem connections while a phone is attached to your ear. 

A few weeks ago, we had to install a new printer.  I knew it was going to involve a lot more than putting it on the desk and plugging it in.  It had to work with the existing system, and the installation had to be done after work, in order not to interrupt customer service.  It was one experience I was hoping someone would rob me of, but no one stepped up to the plate, so it was up to me.

Before I called ISI, I checked to see how the old printers were set up, and I made sure I had USB and Ethernet cords that were long enough to feed from my new printer through the opening in my desk and down to the back of the computer and into the modem.  I made the call and began the process.

I spent the next hour under the office desk unhooking and hooking up cables and cords while holding a flashlight in my mouth and a phone to my ear, listening as the tech on the other end of the line tested connections.  I hit my head on the underneath of the desk no less than five times and the dust down there caused a sneezing fit that warranted a brief intermission, which I took. 

After I blew my nose, I was ready for the next step.  “This next part is going to be a little tricky,” the tech said.  “The previous steps weren’t tricky,” I thought, “God help me!”

I soon realized what the tech meant.  The back of the cash drawer connected to our computer system is approximately two inches from the back wall.  On the back of the cash drawer are tiny—with emphasis on the word tiny—toggle switches.  “You will have to use something with a point, like a metal finger nail file, to flip those switches,” the tech said, “But first, unplug the cash drawer.”

                I saw where this was going—electrical socket plus metal file equals electrocution.  I traced the cord from the cash drawer to the surge strip and unplugged it.  I squeezed my small flashlight, my hand and the fingernail file into the two-inch opening and began pressing the toggle switches as the tech walked me through.  When I completed both circuits, I plugged in the drawer.  The tech sent a test to the drawer and I heard the familiar ding and the sound of the drawer opening.  I felt like I could diffuse a bomb for the Butler County SWAT team, if we had a Butler County SWAT team.

                Do you remember the song, “The Hard Way?” (Mary Chapin Carpenter).  The lyrics go: “… you know we got this far, darling, not by luck but by never turning back…everything we got, we got the hard way.”  That’s what our experiences are, The Hard Way, but they are our way, and sometimes, the only way.