Tuesday's Wednesday Whinge

OK, I know, it isn’t Wednesday, it’s Tuesday.  But it's almost Wednesday (I expect it will be Wednesday when you read this) and it is a Whinge.

All I wanted to do was to print my updated CV (in case you are wondering, no, I haven’t got a job yet, but I did register with an agency).

But would the computer let me? No, it would not. First it informed there was no black ink, so I took the cartridge out, shook it about, then put it back. This trick works sometimes, but not, alas, today.

So I thought I would fool it by colouring the text – a nice bright red was what I had in mind. But another message flashed up on the screen, saying I needed black and colour cartridges and would I like to order them online…

Convinced the electronic equipment was lying, and that there must be some secret combination of keys which, when pressed correctly, would make the printer leap into action, I continued to issue commands.

But my efforts were useless, so eventually I headed off to buy cartridges.

I arrived at a major electrical retailer, and had barely crossed the threshold – indeed, I was still on the welcome mat – when I was accosted by an aggressive assistant demanding to know if she could help me.

Now I am the first to complain if shop workers ignore me when I want buy something, but it would be nice if they let you walk on to the sales floor before jumping out at you.

And, as if that wasn’t bad enough, when I replied ‘just browsing’ she barked back: “What for?” The answer ‘nothing’ failed to satisfy her and, glaring at me with steely eyes, she insisted I MUST be looking for SOMETHING.

By this stage I was so terrified I couldn’t remember my own name, let alone what I needed - I’ll bet the Spanish Inquisition were gentler on their victims – so I turned and fled.

Gathering my scattered wits together, I managed to purchase the cartridges from a friendly, helpful assistant in another retail outlet, and returned home.

But my troubles were only just beginning, because opening the packaging proved well nigh impossible. The whole thing was encased in a rigid plastic container which defied all my efforts to prise it apart. Scissors wouldn’t dent it and the carving knife wouldn’t pierce it. I shook it, hammered it, banged it on the table, threw it at the wall, and even shrieked: “Open Sesame!”.

Finally, however,I did manage to wrench the plastic off, then wrestled my way through layers of cardboard and foil to reach the contents.

Now, all I need to do is to remember which way round the cartridges go, press print and - it works!

No Whinge Today

I HAD a Whinge all ready to post this morning, then I heard the news about the dreadful shootings in Cumbria, and somehow it seemed in appropriate to moan about the small, unimportant things in life when people were dead and injured.
My heart goes out to everyone caught in the incident and its aftermath.
It makes you appreciate that normality, however dull or annoying it may sometimes seem, is a wonderful thing and should be valued.  Let us all count our blessings.

The pictures were taken up in the Lakes last year.

The Wednesday Whinge

FOR a while, after I was made redundant, I wrote a Grumpy Old Woman column which, much to my surprise, was favourably received by kind friends and acquaintances.


Now, having taken a leap into cyberspace with Facebook, Blog and Twitter, I am reviving my venomous views on the vicissitudes of life in the Wednesday Whinge.

All comments will be gratefully received – I would like to know someone is reading my efforts, and some of your suggestions may provide inspiration fr future postings.

It’s a chance for me to moan and groan about the many things that irritate me (washing up, loud music, trains that don’t run on time, litter, vandals, apostrophes in the wrong place) and how things are not what they were when I was young.

So, while this may be written with the aid of modern technology, I am accompanying it with a picture of a typewriter, partly because I am in nostalgic mood – and partly as a tribute to the once-great newspaper industry.

Besides, it was always easier to work up a string of invective while bashing away on the keys of this ‘ancient’ machine. As an added bonus unsatisfactory literary efforts could be ripped out, scrunched into a ball, and hurled across the room.

And who needed anger management when you could work off ill-humour and aggression by banging the typewriter up and down on your desk? You can’t do that with a computer!

Traditional newsroom typewriters, covered in protective layers of cigarette ash, Tippex, and food crumbs stood up to a remarkable amount of ill-treatment and, unlike computers, never, ever answered back.

They didn’t produce any of those high-tech messages that mysteriously appear on my screen. You know the kind of thing: “An unknown website wants to open a programme on your computer…”

Or: “Do you really want to delete this file and its contents?” Somehow, this always sounds disapproving, and makes me feel I must be doing something wrong.

Worse still are the notifications stating that the programme is ‘not responding’ and closing it may result in the loss of unsaved data. So what am I supposed to do? Abandon the computer? Force quit? Try to carry on regardless?

Then there are the passwords. Whether it is due to old age and decreptitude or whether, like Pooh, I am a bear of very little brain, I do not know, but I cannot remember passwords – and even when I do get it right, the computer still insists I am wrong and denies me access.

And selecting a password is a nightmare, prompting all kinds of responses from my electronic guide. A simple ‘Open Sesame’ will not suffice. The magical command has to be alphanumeric (with words and numbers). Better still, it should have a mix of upper and lower case characters, as well as symbols. I key in gibberish, and up pops another communication, warning me that my choice poses a high security risk because it is not strong enough.

What a prune!

I never had these problems with my trusty old typewriter – although the entire carriage did once fall off when I pressed the return lever….